#i put to much thought into virgil and remus's dresses

[purplealicorn]

All the sides in dresses!

I wanted to give the sides dresses :3c

#digital art #sanders sides #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #ts remus #ts roman #ts janus #Dresses #i put to much thought into virgil and remus's dresses #remus is a creature #cassiopeia and Urasla major are my favorite constellation so logan gets them on his dress #this took 12 hours my hand hurts #thatsthat24

[elementary-my-dear-daddy]

Captivated

Analogical (Virgil & Logan)

Warnings: Intoxicated sex, smoking, blood/violence mention, jerking off

Read it on AO3!

Summary: Punk!AU where Logan is absolutely fascinated by the lead of a local band at a house show.

The harsh ring of feedback coming from the shitty speakers set up in the backyard of the house show Logan was at seemed to make his skull buzz. Contrary to what Remus tells all of their friends, he was not dragged, lied to, or forced to be here. He liked the thrum of loud music and enraged lyrics spat towards him, it was a good place to decompress and let go of the rigid persona he typically presented. He could give up the polos and ties and neatly combed hair for a night in favor of a less maintained appearance, which felt rather freeing. Tonight he’d borrowed a pair of ragged crust pants from Remus and opted to wear a sleeveless tank that showed the slightest bit of his Oxytocin formula tattoo on his shoulder, and of course exchanged his dress shoes for sturdy boots just in case he’d end up near a mosh pit. Speaking of, Remus found him just as the next song started, waving him over to the gate into the yard so they could actually hear each other. He successfully managed to work his way through the crowd and noticed that Remus was pulling something out of his pockets.

“What’s that?” Logan asked loudly, trying to be heard over the loud screaming of the song.

“I scored a few spliffs!” Remus yelled back, pulling out two of the mentioned items as well as a lighter, “Want one?”

Logan nodded, waiting for him to light his own before taking one for himself. He let the end rest in his mouth while he clicked the lighter a few times to produce a flame. He didn’t see the harm in occasional vices like these, so long as they remained occasional, and if they helped him let loose, well that’s just an added bonus. He exhaled the first hit slowly, just like the other taught him to do when they were skipping classes together in high school. 

“These aren’t laced, right?” He thought to question.

“Probably not.” Remus shrugged, “I got ‘em out of a nightstand, so unless whoever lives here wanted to poison themselves I don’t think so!” 

Logan rolled his eyes, taking another drag. Of course Remus stole them, “Let’s hope we don’t get caught then.”

“Have I ever gotten caught?”

“Don’t you remember junior year when we-”

“Have I ever faced consequences?” He shot with a grin.

Logan frowned, “Unfortunately, no.”

“Fuck you too, stiff.” Remus blew a cloud of smoke in his face with a laugh.

When the taste and smell of burning filter hit them they flicked their spliffs to the ground, taking care to stomp both of them out (If Remus was going to cause a fire, it would be intentional). There’d been a lull in sound as a new band started to set up after the last. It wasn’t much of a stage, just a few amps, a drum kit, and a platform of old wooden pallets and scrap that raised the performers up slightly. Logan leaned against the cinderblock walls of the yard separating it from the neighbors who so graciously put up with what went on here and watched over the crowd. Small groups chatted, drank, smoked and what could only be described as dicked around the venue. He took it in, smirking to himself as he thought about how just a few years ago he’d be appalled at such deviant behavior. Now, he happily participated in it all.

His attention gravitated towards the new band, notably the man at the front fussing over what looked like a bass. Heavily decorated with tattoos, piercings, and a magenta dyed mess of hair, he seemed so… compelling to Logan. He slung his instrument over himself and wandered up to the microphone set up at the front.

“Hey, shut up we’re gonna start.” He spoke, setting off the feedback on the mic again. The crowd hushed and began to gather towards the stage. The man spoke again, “We’re Fairy Certain by the way and we write songs about gay sex.”

There were four clicks of drumsticks counting the band in before noise assaulted the crowd. A fast driving beat drew people to the front, with a few people starting to headbang and form the beginnings of a pit. There were a few bars of instrumentals, before the man at the front leaned into the mic again.

“We aren’t a crime… Not on my time…”

Logan paced over to the edge of the crowd, gazing up at the stranger with a hazy expression. Lithe fingers plucked over the stings of his instrument quickly as he yelled into the microphone, captivating Logan.

“I’ll be your man…that way you can…”

His mind could have been addled by smoking, or from the rush of adrenaline the music gave him, but the singer seemed to glow up on the stage. He wondered if it was just a trick of light from the porch lamps reflecting in the second hand smoke from various sources or if it was actually radiating from the man.

“Be my boy, let’s destroy the fucking world “

Over the course of the performance, Logan got closer to the stage. He moved with the crowd, shuffling along as the tempo of each song changed. There were a few times he landed at the edge of the pit and absentmindedly pushed its participants back towards the violent center. It was one of those times when the crowd was fully ramped up that he felt a rough shove at his back, launching him forwards into the action. He was caught up in the chaos and tried to get his head on straight to escape it. He dug his shoes into the ground and shoved the nearest body, only to feel himself get slammed by another in his side. When he turned, an elbow collided with his face. In a few seconds, he was completely disoriented and knocked over onto the dusty ground. He had enough sense in him to cover his head and curl up, waiting for the pit to dissipate or for someone to pick him up. Luckily, it was only a few moments before someone was grabbing onto his arm and yanking him back to his feet.

After getting his bearings and dusting himself off, he noticed the music stopped and everyone in the immediate vicinity was staring at him. The person who grabbed him still had a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look and was met with the same man who had been performing this set. Now that he could see his face a little more clearly, he saw the touch of black eyeshadow beneath his brown eyes. He looked at Logan with a worried expression, checking for any distress in his face.

“Hey. You ok?”

Logan opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. He nodded instead.

“Your lip is bleeding.” The stranger pointed out, “Hold on wait here.”

He watched as the other hopped back up on stage and leaned into the mic again.

“Learn your fucking show etiquette assholes, you’re supposed to pick up someone if they fall! That was our last song anyway. Whatever.” He stepped off the stage and returned to Logan, who was more or less at the peak of his trip and was unable to do much besides stare. The man grabbed his hand again and led him back into the house.

Logan was taken past a long line of people to the house’s bathroom, the two of them cutting off the next person in line for it.

“Hey what the fuck?”

“I’m just getting the first aid kit, gimme a sec.” 

Logan waited in the doorway, watching him dig around under the sink until he retrieved what he was looking for. The stranger once again grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the back of the house, grabbing keys from the chain on his belt and unlocking one of the bedrooms. He was sat down on the bed, waiting as the other opened the kit up and found some things from it.

“I’m Logan.” He managed to say. 

“Virgil.” The other responded. He took Logan’s chin in his hand as he analyzed the injury, “Don’t think you’ll need stitches but this looks pretty nasty. You took a few decent hits out there, huh?”

Logan stared at him with wide eyes, blushing, “Is it that obvious I was smoking?”

Virgil looked at him, confused at first, and then with an expression of realization, then a soft smile, “I meant in the pit, but now that you mention it your eyes seem kind of dilated.”

“Oh.”

“Just hold still for me, Logan.” He said, taking a wipe to the cut. Logan winced and would’ve pulled away if not for Virgil’s hand holding him in place. Soon enough the blood and dirt were wiped away and some salve was applied to help it heal. It helped bring him back to earth for now, his high finally dying down enough for him to feel the pain of the injury and the awkwardness of the situation.

“Sorry, I should have been more careful out there.”

“No, not your fault. Some asshole pushed you in, I saw him.”

“He didn’t happen to have no shirt and a mustache, did he?”

“He did.”

“Remus. A friend.”

“An asshole friend.”

“That defines him very well actually.” Logan said, earning a chuckle from Virgil, “Sorry to make you end your set. I liked it a lot.”

“Thanks, but don’t worry about it.” Virgil shrugged, “Rude people don’t get to hear my awesome gay sex music anyway.”

Logan smiled, “Why do you write about it?”

“Dunno. I’m gay. I have sex. I like to yell about it.” He closed the lid on the first aid kit and set it off to the side, turning back to Logan, “Why do you go to these types of shows?”

“They let me relax, as hard as that might be to believe.” Logan answered, “Plus it isn’t a bad way to meet people.”

“True.”

They both sat there on the bed for a moment. Loud music from the next set of musicians started, slightly muted by the walls of the house, filling the brief silence between them.

“I bet you meet a lot of people at these shows.”

“Sometimes.” Virgil responded, “Everyone wants a singer but no one wants a bassist. They cancel each other out.”

“Surely that’s not accurate.”

“It’s true, and yet we’re the best with our fingers.” He joked, holding up two fingers and mimicked the action of plucking a bass, “You trying to say something?”

Logan rubbed his arm nervously, “Oh, I didn’t mean like- well… you are attractive but I meant, sorry.”

Virgil laughed at the other fumbling over his words, “It’s okay, it’s cute.”

“What is?” He asked, still a little dazed.

“You are.”

“Oh…” Logan turned red. It was hard to see in the unlit bedroom, but still noticeable, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Virgil replied, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but do you wanna stay for more than just the music?”

It took Logan a few seconds to process what Virgil meant, but when he got it he looked back at the other man and nodded quickly.

Virgil acted quickly, going to straddle Logan’s hip and capture his lips in a kiss. He was careful to avoid hurting him further, but he couldn’t help but intensify the kiss when the faint taste of blood entered his mouth. Logan was overwhelmed just by a simple kiss. The other’s tongue piercing ran under the roof of his own mouth, while the twin hoops from his spider bites pressed into the flesh of his lips. He tried to match the force that Virgil gave, but found himself content just being the recipient of the affection, only making a lazy attempt to lick into the other’s mouth occasionally.

After a few minutes of this, Virgil pulled away, taking in the sight of a lust drunk Logan. He pushed him to the bed lightly before going at it again, this time letting a hand roam underneath the thin fabric of Logan’s shirt. The feeling of Virgil’s hands exploring his skin excited him and he arched into the touch as soon as his hand ghosted over his pecs. A soft moan left his mouth, causing Virgil to smile against his.

“You like that baby?”

“Mhm.” He responded.

“You want more than this?”

Logan gasped as Virgil ran his thumb over his nipple, “Please, yeah.”

“Let’s get these out of the way then.” Virgil said, playing with the hem of Logan’s shirt and pants.

They both quickly scrambled out of their clothes, flinging them out of the way as they pressed quick kisses and gentle touches to each other's newly exposed skin. When they stripped down to just boxers, Virgil urged Logan to lay down on the bed once again. He rubbed at the other’s thighs as he hovered over him, quickly noticing the small wet patch forming at the top of the tent in Logan’s underwear.

“Fuck, so hard already? That’s fucking adorable.”

“Virgil…” Logan whined.

“I know babe, I know.” He reached to pull his own length out of his boxers, spitting on his hand and slicking himself up, letting a quiet moan leave his lips as he did. Once he worked himself up he took out Logan’s cock, leaning forward until he held them both in his hand. He stroked them together, listening past the loud music coming from outside to hear all of Logan’s noises.

Logan bucked his hips up into Virgil’s hand, looking at how handsome he looked above him. Tattoos covering his chest, arms, and sides, all glistening with the effort of performing both before and now. His expression, lips slightly parted, brow furrowed, messy hair sticking to his forehead, and eyes squeezed shut in focus as he jerked them together, it was so incredibly hot. He let out a groan as the other twisted his wrist just right so his palm ran over the head of his dick. 

Virgil opened his eyes to see Logan writhing in pleasure beneath him, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him. He moved his hand over their lengths faster, gripping them harder than before.

“Fuckkkk Logan, feels good.”

“Uh-huh, faster!”

“You want more? Huh?”

“Yes!”

Virgil increased his pace and leaned forward to kiss him again, not being as gentle as before and biting Logan’s lip between his teeth as they got off. They both thrusted into his grip, moaning into each other’s mouth. It was when Virgil ran his tongue piercing over the fresh cut on his lip that Logan felt that familiar heat curling in his veins.

“ ‘m close!”

“Me too, shit-” Virgil cried as he stroked them as fast as he could. He captured Logan’s mouth in another long-lasting kiss, the other whining constantly as his orgasm built.

With a final couple touches from Virgil, they both toppled over the edge together. They spilled over each other’s cocks and stomachs, panting from the quick fuck. Once they rode out the pleasure, they collapsed beside each other on the bed.

VIrgil was the first one to break the silence of the afterglow, “How’re you doing, Lo?”

“That was really good.” Logan breathed, turning his head to rest against the other boy’s shoulder.

“Good, good.” Virgil sighed and reached for his shirt, cleaning the come off of the both of them. Logan watched and grimaced.

“You’re not going to wear that out, are you?”

“No, I’ll just toss it in the laundry tonight.” He replied, throwing it off to a corner of the room.

“Wait.” Logan finally put the two dots together, “You live here?”

Virgil nodded, “Yeah. I wouldn’t be as much of an ass about everything tonight if it wasn’t my place.”

Logan thought for a moment, “Was your door unlocked when you came in here?”

Virgil looked at him with curiosity, “Uh, yeah, I thought I locked it but I guess I didn’t. Which is weird because I normally check a bunch of times to make sure it’s really-”

“Check your drawers.”

Virgil leaned over to check the bedside dresser drawer where he kept all his smoking stuff that he usually used to relax before bed and, lo and behold, a few joints and spliffs he rolled before were missing.

“How did you-”

“I’ll make Remus pay you back.”

#jamming out #not safe for sanders #fics #nsfs analogical #punk au #sorry i didn't respect the poll results #inspiration works in weird ways and it made me stay up till 4am to write this

[logically-asexual]

I wanted to be seen

summary:

Superheroes AU. Roman, Patton and Virgil are a team of good guys who fight against Evil (Janus and Remus). They get Logan to work for them with like hacking and getting important information from the villains. But Janus tries to convince Logan that he deserves better.

Read on AO3

Part 2

| Previous |

word count: 2,009

When Logan woke up, golden light was illuminating the room through soft white curtains. He wasn’t used to waking when the sun was already up and he became even more disoriented when he didn’t recognize the small bedroom he was in.

It was simple, with a single bed, a clear desk, and a dresser, presumably empty. He stayed motionless for a minute as he tried to piece together where he was now and why.

He remembered meeting Deceit and being handcuffed by him. He remembered trying to escape, but he didn’t remember being successful. He remembered being carried and then sitting in the backseat of a car.

Finally, it all clicked.

They left him. They never came back for him. He made a bet with Deceit and Logan lost it because they left him. Now he was kidnapped somewhere and had no idea what Deceit would do with him.

A commonly known fact about this villain was that he was good at scheming, and always made sure no one would be around to witness his actions. That meant nobody knew anything about him other than rumors about his appearance, which originated from cryptic pictures some people claimed to have caught. Though it was a very similar situation as with UFO’s. People would photograph anyone wearing a bowler hat and claim it was Deceit. Nobody actually knew the truth.

If that was the case… And Logan had met this man face to face… What would happen to him? Would he be killed for knowing too much? Would he be kept captive forever? Would his memories be erased? No, that was impossible. Logan’s mind was spiraling. He needed to come back to reality.

As he began sitting up, someone barged into his room.

It was a man dressed in an outfit that Logan wouldn’t know how to begin describing. The puffy sleeves, high neck and flares at the hem of the shirt and ends of the sleeves reminded him of medieval nobility. Most of the fabric was black, with some bright green accents, like the sash, and covered in glitter.

The man wore black pants and high boots. His eyes were a bright red and he had purple eyeshadow around them, making him look ill. However, the crazed look in his eyes and the energy with which he entered suggested otherwise.

“Baby Techie! Good morning!” He yelled. “Are you ready for your adventure?”

“What?” He replied tiredly.

“I’m taking you to the office! Boss’s orders. We’d thought you’d be up by now.” He looked downwards at Logan’s body still half under the covers.

Logan realized at that moment that he was in his underwear. He felt his face heat in embarrassment, which the other man must have seen because he explained:

“Oh, we burned your clothes. They were disgusting. There’s new ones in there.” He pointed to the dresser. “Put them on if you want to and I’ll see you outside!”

He slammed the door closed and left Logan back in silence.

They… took his clothes off? While he slept? And then burned them? What was he doing here again?

He stood and went to the dresser. There he found several new sets of clothes. First, there was a horrifying blue and orange jester costume. He carefully put it aside, hoping someone had made a mistake when putting it there. Then, another costume, but this was a gray mouse onesie. Logan wondered if this was some kind of joke, or a nightmare.

After some digging, he found simple black pants and a silver gray button up shirt. He put them on quickly, before walking out of the room.

He met the man in green again on the other side of the door, who pouted upon seeing Logan’s choice of clothing.

”Nooo! Why so boring?” He exclaimed.

Logan paid him no mind, and followed as they began walking along the hallway. It was wide, with identical doors to one side and framed pieces of art on the opposite wall. All the paintings included a variety of snakes, dark forests, or close-up eyes. The interior design seemed otherwise minimalist, with all walls painted a light gray and the floors made of marble. The frames of the paintings called one’s attention for their striking golden color. Logan wondered if they were made of real gold.

“My name is Remus, by the way. But you can call me Duke, or Dookie, or Daddy, or anything you want, I’m open minded,” the man said with a wink.

“Logan,” he replied.

Remus proceeded to talk Logan’s ears off with gruesome descriptions of how much he hated Logan’s team –or ex-team, he guessed– of superheroes and what he would do to them if he was allowed.

How had Logan never heard of this guy before? If he worked with Deceit maybe he was just as good as him at covering his footprints. It was also true that Logan only researched what Prince asked him to, maybe Prince had only heard about Deceit and not this partner of his.

They made it to a white stairway with golden railings, walked down and then turned to walk into a small study.

In contrast to the modern design of what –Logan assumed– was Deceit’s mansion, the study looked like it was pulled out from an old detective movie. The antique wooden furniture and the smell of cigarette smoke and coffee made Logan feel like he was in a completely different place and time. Deceit, dressed in an onyx-colored shirt, a vest, dress pants, the bowler hat and gloves, looked like he had come out of one of those movies himself.

Everything seemed too clean. Maybe they wouldn’t kill him yet. Or at least his death wouldn’t involve pouring blood over the carpet. Deceit doesn’t seem to be the kind of person to enjoy having bloodstains. Remus, on the other hand…

Logan tried to stop his mind from reeling and his body from shaking. He would spend his last minutes with dignity.

Deceit dismissed Remus with a subtle rise of an eyebrow, which Logan found quite impressive. Once they were alone and the door was closed, he extended a hand towards a chair in front of his desk. Logan sat down slowly.

Deceit sat across from him. He rested his chin on the back of his hand, looking Logan in the eye.

“So here’s the thing, Logic–”

Logan tilted his head at the name, but stayed quiet.

The villain laid a few papers on the desk. “—you’re going to fact-check all this information for me with the secrets you know about Prince and in a few hours I’ll send Remus to you with more instructions. He will take you now to your work desk.” He signaled for Logan to step out.

His eyes widened. “Wait. What?” he stuttered.

Deceit didn’t grant him any more words as Logan evaluated what had just been said. They wanted him to… work? Well… That meant he would at least be of some use before he died. Should he really be thankful for that? No, that was nonsense. Deceit was toying with him. He needed to get away of this place as soon as possible.

He stood. “What makes you think I’m just going to work for you?”

Deceit stared at him emotionless. “Whatever do you mean, darling?”

Logan blinked. “I’m not just going to follow your orders! This is kidnapping! And you’re a villain! I— I am going to get out of here.” He turned to leave, but was stopped by Deceit speaking again.

“And where are you planning to go?”

“I—“ His hand hesitated over the door knob. “It doesn’t matter. Away.”

Of course Logan was scared of being alone. He didn’t think any of Prince’s enemies would know what he looked like but in the case that they did he was defenseless. He was also scared of what would happen to him here. At least out there there was some likelihood he would never be found, while here he was right in the hands of one of the superheroes’ greatest rivals.

Deceit’s hand pushed the door, even if Logan hadn’t tried to open it yet. “May I remind you that we had a deal, my mouse?” the man spoke from behind him. “You belong to me now.”

“That—“ Logan stuttered, refusing to turn around, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Deceit turned downwards in disappointment, “And here I thought I had finally helped you see the truth.” After a pause, he withdrew his hand from the door and used it to hold Logan’s. “Very well, then. You may go, but first I want to show you something.”

Maybe it was because Logan didn’t know what he would do once he was free and wanted to postpone the pressure of that inevitable decision, but he let Deceit lead him across the mansion and up many flights of stairs and different elevators to the top of the building. They reached the final floor and Deceit walked in front of him along the hallway to a door. He opened it, and the sight froze Logan in place.

The room was huge, with a high ceiling painted with the night sky and with a giant telescope pointing out of it. In the center of the room was a spherical screen, showing a full view of the Earth rotating and its changing weather. The space was surrounded by rows of shelves with uncountable books in them on the right and the racks of computation nodes for a supercomputer on the left. The wall adjacent to the door on that side was covered with screens that at the moment showed footage of the city, a database with information about the superheroes, constant news updates, and more. On the other side of the door, the wall had shelves with equipment for chemical experiments, and a long desk in front of it to work on them.

Logan stood at the entrance with his mouth agape, until he felt the smooth fabric of Deceit’s glove under his chin as he gently pushed his jaw back up.

“Wh— What’s all this?”

“Just a little gift,” Deceit answered, looking proudly at the room, “that I prepared for when you decided to join us.”

Logan stuttered, incapable of speech or thought. “For me?” he managed to say.

“Just for you.”

Looking around him, trying to get over the initial shock, Logan tried to get his thoughts in order. “No. No, this is bribery! I am not exchanging my freedom for—“ his eyes shifted and his voice was trembling “— for any of this. Just… return it to wherever you stole it from. I don’t want anything to do with it!”

“Oh come on, don’t act like a saint with strong principles now.” Deceit rolled his eyes to land directly on Logan’s, and began getting closer. “Don’t pretend you didn’t do whatever it took to comply with your little boss’s directions. I know what you were up to under those incognito accounts.”

Logan stumbled backwards until his back collided with the cold metal of a rack.

“Besides, it’s not only for bribery, I got all this because I do need it.” Deceit had stopped moving only a foot away from him and looked around once again. “Especially the computer. I need it for some exciting plans I am working on. And I need you to operate it.”

“Me?”

Deceit’s expression became softer. “Yes, Logan. I need you.”

Logan’s breath shouldn’t have been taken away by that simple sentence, but it was. He was needed. His entire life, all he had ever wanted was to be needed. He had always been replaceable, inconsequential, he entered and left every room without being noticed or cared for. He thought he was important for Prince’s team, but he wasn’t; it was clear to him now.

Something shifted inside him. Someone needed him. Deceit, the most powerful villain in the world, needed him.

He took a deep breath as soon as his tightened chest allowed him to, and as he let the air out, a word escaped with it.

“Okay.”

#the end is so stupid im sorry #i just wanted to post and get rid of this #to make space for new ideas to continue #logan sanders #sanders sides #janus sanders #remus sanders #loceit

[creativia10]

Punk with Lavender

Summary: Roman is ready to spend Halloween with his usual group of friends. He finds himself more surprised by their costumes than he expected to be.

Relationships: romantic Prinxiety, platonic brotherly Creativitwins, background romantic Dukeceit, romantic Logicality

Wordcount: 1010

Warnings: some mockery (but it's light-hearted teasing among friends)

Notes: Tuliptober Prompt 30-Oneshots

Part of one-shots. Will have more than one.

Set for Halloween

@transexualfoxprince

Based on @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors Pastel/Punk verse

Roman smoothed out his costume and looked himself over in the mirror. He smiled. He thought he cleaned up rather well and made for a great dark prince if he did say so himself. The style looked like that of a typical fairytale prince costume. Except the color scheme was black and red. It fit him better anyways.

There was a knock on his door.

“Is his highness ready to come out yet?”

Roman snickered at Virgil’s unintentional irony.

“It’s funny you say that.”

Roman opened his apartment door only for his jaw to drop when he saw Virgil.

Virgil smirked. Virgil made fists and posed.

“Oo, look at me. I’m punk Roman. Totally a tough guy.”

Virgil was dressed like a punk. He was all in black. Roman didn’t think he’d ever seen Virgil lacking so much color. And he was wearing Roman’s jacket, a clothing item Roman let him borrow more on purpose now. He wore a mini skirt over fishnet stockings unlike Roman’s usual leather pants though. Still with boots though, just a bit more angular. The only thing that matched Virgil’s usual aesthetic, was his lavender-colored hair.

Virgil was still preening at Roman’s reaction. Roman blinked a few times.

“You don’t look completely like me,” Roman said. Virgil rolled his eyes and gestured with his head. They started walking out.

“Yeah, I thought it would be more fun this way.”

He shyly looked up at Roman.

“And uh, you look good too. Even if you couldn’t get a good roast in from your costume.”

Roman let out a little huff and put his arm around Virgil.

“I was perfectly fine with just looking good. Especially for you,” Roman said with a wink. Virgil shook his head.

“Idiot. You don’t have to do it for me.”

Virgil grumbled but leaned into Roman anyways. Roman hmmed.

-

The poetry café has been their group’s meeting spot anyways. The cafe didn’t officially have a Halloween event going on. But, it had become an unofficial tradition to dress up and hang out there around the spooky day anyways.

Apparently this year, Roman was not in on a group coordination effort though.

Remus was also dressed like a punk, but with neon green to replace Roman’s typical reds. He too smirked at Roman.

“Hey Ro, do I rock leather better than you? I bet I look so tough. Oo all this black totally means I’m extra and special.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I think your neon exterior ruins your point.”

Janus hmmed.  His style was closer to Virgil’s current one. Janus wore a dark purple but with a leather skirt, and spiked heels.

“It is fun to see who could be intimidated by this though,” Janus added. Remus cackled and nodded in his agreement.

“Why did you all find it necessary to mock my style tonight?” Roman asked.

“Not everyone,” Logan said.

Roman looked over. Patton giggled. He was wearing a pastel blue sundress, the only one in pastel this time for some reason, which was an odd sight. He also had on blue converse. Patton’s hair was still dyed turquoise though, and his piercings were still in. Patton grabbed the ends of his skirt and spun around with a giggle.

“Oh, I love dressing so differently today! I feel like I look so cute! No wonder you all love to dress like this.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say cute is the correct descriptor for them usually,” Logan said. Indeed, the usual pastel wearers, Janus, Remus, and Virgil seemed offended.

“But uh,” Logan coughed, “You certainly do.”

Roman cooed at them with a smirk, getting a glare from Logan at his efforts. Remus mimed barfing in the background. Logan was the only other one who didn’t seem to be a part of this style-swapping scheme though. He was dressed as…a teacher maybe? Logan dressed like a professional, including a tie.

Janus gestured to the style swappers. “First it was just Virgil who wanted to, he thought roasting his new boyfriend was a good time. Something I can appreciate. Then Remus wanted to join as well. I thought the style sounded fun so I joined of my own volition. Patton didn’t seem to realize the intention was mockery and just wanted to have fun.”

Patton gaped at them.

“Of course, I’m not making fun of you! If anything, I’m honoring your look.”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “Yes, I did not understand it myself. But, it is apparently in good fun.”

“Speaking of, why did you choose to dress in that?” Remus asked. Logan huffed.

“It is different than my usual getup.”

“Yeah, but why a teacher?”

“It was different enough. I didn’t want to put too much effort into this when it is merely for going to our usual venue. I’m not exactly the costume type. Be grateful I dressed up for Halloween at all.”

 Patton cooed at him and linked arms.

“Well, I think it still looks good honey. I can see you being smart enough to be a teacher.”

Logan blushed a bit, “Thank you, dear.”

Janus and Remus made disgusted faces again.

Roman looked back to Virgil. “You’re the only one who went far enough as to change your physical appearance for this though, I noticed.”

“Ah, yeah.” Virgil brushed some of his now lavender hair back behind an ear and looked away.

“I thought it worked with yall’s typical punk aesthetic. Plus, I had kind of been considering getting it colored like this anyways. What do you think?”

Roman smiled at Virgil. He gently tangled some of his fingers into the lavender hair as he brushed it out of Virgil’s eyes.

“I think it really suits you.”

Virgil smiled and shyly looked up at him again.

“Yeah?”

Roman nodded, “Of course.”

Roman leaned in for a kiss.

“Alright lovebirds, let’s get going before yall start falling into tunnel vision again.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but the two of them turned to join the rest of the group to head to their favorite venue. It should be a good Halloween.

#Tuliptober2022 #ts roman #ts virgil #prinxiety #sanders sides #ts remus #ts janus #ts patton #ts logan

[brandstifter-sys]

Hiding Eyes

For @dukexietyweek Day 7: Soulmate            (Ao3) (login required)

Word Count:2797

Rating: T

Characters: Remus, fem Patton, fem Janus, Virgil

Warnings: mtf Virgil, genderbend, background moceit, sex mention, alcohol

In a world where you have one of your soulmate's eyes and can see what they're seeing if you cover your borrowed eye, it should be easy to find your soulmate. Unless you can't see anything when you try and get a look. Remus, a movie star, is unfortunate that he can't see anything. He's ready to give up hope until a chance meeting at his oldest friend's drag show.

---

Sometimes it was hard to look for a soulmate even though they had one of your eyes. If they covered the borrowed eye they could see what you were looking at. For Remus, it was a lot harder to tell. 

He was happy to be finished with his latest movie and wanted to either sleep or get smashed. At least this one wasn't some trashy romcom where he'd have to play straight. It was a trashy macabre romcom where he had to play bi, Cthulhu in Love , and he was the lead! He was just glad that he didn't have to sit in makeup for hours to get his face tentacles done that day and instead just put on a fake beard to match his mustache. And he had the next day off!

Remus carefully removed the color contact from his right eye and closed his eyes. All he could see was darkness but it was nice, sometimes the light was too much. He sighed, not bothering to just cover his right eye to catch a glimpse of his soulmate's world. He never saw anything. Sometimes he wondered if he even had a soulmate. 

He wouldn't be surprised if he didn't, he was aro and he didn't really want to enter some one-sided romance if he could help it. But it would be nice to at least see who got stuck with him. He knew he was a lot to handle. 

"Hey, Remus?" someone called to him from the other side of the door. Remus got up with a grunt and opened it to reveal his costar, Pat, and she looked worn out. 

"What's up Patty-cake?" he asked and leaned against the door frame. 

"Sorry if I'm bothering you, I just thought you might want to get some dinner and see Janice's performance tonight," Pat said and played with her hoodie strings. Remus couldn't really say no, he wanted to see his childhood bestie's drag performance even if she spent the rest of the night with her soulmate. 

"Give me five minutes to get dressed and then we can party!" he grinned, "If you want to watch me strip you can come in!" Pat shook her head and smiled sweetly. 

"I'm spoken for. I'll be here when you're ready!" 

"One of us has to be," Remus shrugged. 

"You have a soulmate, little mister, and I will fight you if you say you don't!" 

"You can't win on an empty stomach!" Remus jeered, "And Jan would get off seeing you beat me up!" 

"Remus," she scowled and adjusted her glasses. 

"I'll be right out!"

.

Remus was incognito, hiding his skunky bangs with a beanie and his body in a hoodie and baggy pants. Pat wasn't as hidden as they entered the bar, reeking of McDonald's. It wasn't terribly crowded, but still full and dimly lit. Remus could see the low stage and the lights. It would be a good show. 

"If you save me a seat, I'll get the drinks," Remus suggested. 

"Okay, can you get me a Hemingway Champagne, please?" she said brightly. Remus ruffled her hair and laughed before sauntering to the bar. 

Remus moved like he was the hottest thing in the world and leaned against the bar with a winning smile. The bartender got one look at him in his bum attire and sighed. She was pretty, with long purple hair that covered her right eye and half of her glasses. She had deathly pale skin that looked more pallid paired with her black hoodie. 

"Hey there gorgeous!" Remus cooed and motioned her over. She moved towards him reluctantly and crossed her arms. 

"I thought I told you I'm not doing it. I'm not falling for it." 

"Falling for what?" 

"Don't play dumb, Roman. A fake mustache and a pale blue color contact are not going to convince me that you're Remus." 

"So you know the boring theater twin!" Remus laughed, "I'm sorry for you, girl!" The bartender's visible eye went wide and she shook her head. 

"I'm not going to kill him, I'm not going to kill him," she sighed as her cheeks turned pink.

"That's my job! And here I thought Roman didn't have hot friends!" 

"Are you gonna order or waste my time?" she huffed. 

"Can I get a Death in the Afternoon and Alligator Sperm? And if you have to spit in one, aim for the gator! Pattycake doesn't deserve my hate," Remus said brightly before he noticed her eye. It was the same brown-green hazel as his. 

"Anything else or do you need to stay sober for your next shoot?" 

"That's all for now. How did you know I'm shooting a new movie?" 

"Jan. She always gushes about her soulmate being a movie star and working with you all the time. I haven't told anyone if you're trying to keep an industry secret or something," she shrugged, not exactly telling the whole truth, but Remus couldn't be sure.

"It's not really a secret, just not well known. I'm sure it's all over my fan pages! I can't hide from them, not that I want to—they're why I have what I do." 

"It's not because you have talent or anything," she scoffed and rolled her eyes. Remus snickered and bobbed his head back and forth.

"Talent? Half the time I don't even speak in my fun movies! It's my hot bod and creepy mannerisms that sell those! I mean it was the fans that petitioned for me to play the creature in Frankenstein. I wasn't considered since I'm not a tall brooding goth prince, but it's my best performance, and I have the fans to thank for that."

"You were better in Cuttle as a tentacle monster. Even if the fanart got weird. I needed to bleach my eyes." 

"Is that why you cover your soul eye?" 

"I keep one eye covered because it's light sensitive, because of genetics," she said flatly and got to work on the drinks, avoiding eye contact.

"Do you put eyeshadow and liner on both sides?" Remus asked. She moved her bangs to reveal that she had an eye patch on her glasses. 

"There's no point. Anything else or are you going to give your friend her drink?" 

"Oh Pat! Right! We're both here for Janice, or should I say, Dante Infernal! You got me there! Can I get your name before I go? Hot bartender isn't a good name." 

"Violetta, but you can call me Vi," she said shyly and slid him both drinks. Remus beamed and took them. 

"Thanks! I like that name! Maybe I'll see you around!" he said and trotted off to find Pat. 

Of course, when he found her, she was with Janice in a more secluded booth, giggling and flirting with the drag king. It was so easy for Dante Infernal to charm anyone with his wry smirk and gentlemanly wiles. It was cute but Remus was not interested in third wheeling just yet. He was too sober to deal with any romance. 

"Should I get you a second straw to share?" he teased and set her drink on the table. Pat giggled and beamed at him. 

"Thank you so much Ree!" 

"Hello Remus, I'm surprised you haven't snapped anyone up yet," Janice teased. Remus shrugged and took a swig of his curdling drink. 

"I just got here, give me some time!" he laughed, "And maybe I want to be a good friend first!" Janice chuckled as he downed the rest of his drink. 

"So you're going to give me a few dollars and sulk at the bar this time?" she hummed knowingly as Pat sipped her drink. 

"Maybe," he pouted, "As long as the hot bartender doesn't get tired of me!" 

"Violetta? Oh, darling, if she figures out you're you, you might get tired of her . She's a huge fan of your horror movies, and your butt." 

"Really? I mean my ass is perfect but she didn't seem interested in it! She's got the big tiddy goth girlfriend vibe so it checks out that she'd like those movies!" 

"She certainly does, even before her top surgery she was gifted," Janice said bitterly. 

"Your tiny titties are cute!" Pat cooed and hugged her. Jan nuzzled her hair and kissed her cheek. Remus blinked and stared at them both. He was still too sober for this.

"I'm gonna go back and get another drink." 

"Remus, don't drink too much, okay?" Pat pouted. Remus flicked his wrist at her and pulled a few bills from his pocket. 

"Don't have too much rockin sex, okay?" he retorted and handed the money to Jan. She knew that meant he wouldn't be close by when she performed. She also knew that Pat was flustered, so she waved Remus off to do whatever he was planning. 

Remus waved impishly and went back to the bar, this time hopping on a stool and setting his empty glass down. Vi glanced at him and sighed. 

"Finished already?" 

"Yeah, can I get another one?" he asked and wiggled his eyebrows as she took the glass. 

"Not for a while. I'm not letting you get drunk, pretty boy. Your romcom fans will eat you alive." 

"I'd rather my horror fans did. Literally!" he jeered, "You know you want to!" 

"Do I?" she asked and set the glass on a tray to go through the wash.

"Well you've got Jennifer's body, so why not enjoy a snack?" 

"What?" she snorted and turned around.

"Is your name Megan because damn you're foxy!" Remus purred with a goofy grin. 

"Shouldn't you save that for your soulmate?" she said with a snicker. Remus wanted to hear her laugh more. 

"I don't think I have one, I'm aro and I don't see anything when I do the eye thing," he said with a shrug, "I don't mind. If I had one, they'd have to deal with the paparazzi, my schedule, and me!" 

"Being aro doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate, I can tell you that much. Blind people exist. And maybe don't treat yourself like a problem. It doesn't help anyone," Vi replied and leaned on the bar across from him. 

"I'm a lot to handle, but I'm a lot of sexy fun too," Remus giggled, "So you're aro spec, huh? And you have a soulmate?" 

"Yeah, but the universe hates me so I don't look anymore. They're only interested in men. But you're not here to listen to my problems." 

"I don't mind, I'm curious—what idiot wouldn't want a babe like you?" he said and held his chin in his hands. 

"Some idiot I knew of in school who's in the film industry now. Roman thinks you might know them, I'm pretty sure you do." 

"Can I see your other eye? It could help me figure out who they could be. And I kinda just want to see both eyes." 

"I'm gonna regret this," Vi sighed and moved her bangs. She lowered her glasses and bit her lip, trying not to squeeze her eyes shut in the dim light. 

Remus gasped when he saw that familiar pale blue iris staring at him. He slapped his hand over his right eye and saw a blurry version of himself gawking and covering his eye. His hand fell to his side and he shook with so much excitement he had no idea how to release it.

"Remus?" Vi asked hesitantly and readjusted her glasses. She was regretting that choice. 

She yelped when he grabbed her face and kissed her like he would die without her lips. 

"Holy shit!" Vi gasped and lurched back. Her lips were tingling and she was staring at Remus in shock. 

"I know I should've asked first," he said softly, "I wasn't thinking." 

"But you—" 

"Love is love, no matter how romantic or platonic or alterous. And I could see myself falling headfirst in a vat of battery acid for you, no romance required." 

"You don't have to do that," she said with a shy laugh. Remus beamed, proud that he could bring that sound out of her. 

"So we went to school together, and you were too shy to say anything to me, huh?" 

"You were—are so confident and bold, and you had friends, it was intimidating, and I was really just a nobody with self esteem issues and I avoided you as much as I could. The easiest way to do that was spending time with Roman." 

"Hmm, well it would be really funny if you were the hot emo who always had headphones and a spiderweb backpack! I had such a mesh it was embarrassing!" 

"Oh god," Vi groaned and went bright red, "I still have that backpack." 

"Okay now I definitely need your number and I need to take you on a date!" Remus laughed, "I can be covert if you like!" 

"Please? I don't need the paparazzi tearing into me because I'm an edgy trans woman." 

"The only one tearing into you is gonna be me!" Remus jeered. Vi shook her head and readjusted herself. 

"Go watch the show, my shift is over in five so I'll find you, before Jan can rub it in," Vi said, "And don't think you're gonna be the one tearing into anyone." 

"I'm looking forward to proving Pat right! And getting to know you!" Remus grinned and waved impishly before trotting off to join his co-star. 

Unfortunately for Remus, he missed Janice's performance, but he was able to take his seat by the lovers without drawing attention to himself. 

"There you are, Remus," Jan hummed and ran her fingers through Pat's hair, "finally tired of your biggest fan?" 

"Nope! I just wanted to check in on you and tell you that I owe Pattycake a puppy!" 

"You found your soulmate!" Pat gasped and sat up. Remus nodded excitedly with a bright grin. Pat squeaked and hugged him, far too excited to contain herself. 

"Did you meet them or did you finally see something?" Pat squealed, "Do you know what they look like? Are they handsome?" 

"Darling, let him breathe," Janus hummed, "One question at a time." 

"I finally got to see and I met my soulmate," Remus giggled and shimmied excitedly. Pat was so happy, hanging off his every word. Jan was more interested in the figure looming towards them. 

"And she is the most beautiful woman with the most sultry voice and she could burn me alive with her stare!" Remus gushed, and swooned, leaning into the seat, "And I want her to step on me."

"That's no way to describe someone to your witnesses," Vi said and sat next to Remus. Remus leaned against her and beamed. 

"Well, this is an unexpected twist," Jan hummed with a smirk. Vi flipped her off and flipped her hair over her shoulder. 

"Sounds like you expected it," Remus giggled and wrapped his arm around Vi. She leaned against him and placed her hand on his thigh.

"I did, but I didn't expect you to be so, adoring," Jan hummed. Remus shrugged. 

"It's not romantic adoration, it's all about power, beauty, the macabre, personal connection, and lust!" 

"Lust?" Pat squeaked and inched closer to Jan.

"I'm a horny little bastard!" Remus giggled, "And it takes a lot to tame me!" 

"I doubt it," Vi jeered.

"You would be the first to say that!" Remus jeered. 

"Wait until your brother hears!" Pat gasped, looking for any reason to change the topic. 

"He's known since high school. He'll be insufferable," Vi sighed, "More insufferable than Remus' rabid fans who hate his soulmate because he's not theirs and he won't ever see them like that." 

"They what?" Remus gasped. 

"They're usually kids. They get over it. Online I actually like to claim that yes, your soulmate is a raging bitch who would whip you and make you beg for the tiniest scrap of love," Vi said with a tiny smirk. 

"You shouldn't be so mean to yourself, and you shouldn't lie just to belittle yourself either," Pat pouted. Vi shrugged and glanced at Remus. He was fighting back a fit of giggles.

"I'm not lying," she said softly. Remus' jaw dropped before a gleeful giggle escaped him. 

"You really are my soulmate! Please tell me you have more than just whips and begging in mind!" he squealed and kissed her cheek, pulling her closer. 

"I'll tell you more about it when we go on a real date." 

"There's a nice diner that Jan and I go to, it's quaint and it doesn't have a pretty face, and it's open 24/7," Pat suggested. 

"Are you free tonight?" Remus asked.

"No. I'm supposed to be going to a diner with my soulmate," Vi teased. Remus laughed brightly. Yeah, he was more than happy with his soulmate.

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #mtf!virgil #dukexietyweek2023 #day 7 #fem!patton #fem!janus #fem!moceit #moceit #janus sanders #patton sanders #alcohol ment tw #sex mention tw

[thefairytower]

The last year

Virgil sat up and stretched himself. Wings fluttering to shake out any creases

His thoughts drifted to his dream for a moment. An open field. Flying without a care with the most important person in the world by his side… he shook his head.  No time for daydreaming.

He had to make his rounds and then tend to the prince. He got up and went through his morning routine. Halting briefly as he picked out some clothes. Usually, he didn’t care much. Going for a simple standard uniform. But the prince had been quite sullen lately. And today, of all days, Virgil wanted to give him a reason to smile. If only briefly.

His mind made up he picked out the double layered purple skirt with intricate silver patterns, the matching leaf top that was a pain to button up on his own but he managed to do so without being bothered too much by his wings. He put on the dark hood with the silver leaf clasp, black pants and his good armor boots. He carefully picked up his captain’s crown, a silver branch that went from temple to temple around the back of his head and his sword. He never ceased to feel the weight of responsibility that these symbols of his calling carried.

He rarely bothered with the crown nowadays. Feeling undeserving of the nobility it implied and lacking an audience that needed reminders of his standing which did not match his 20 years. But he was all dressed up in his ceremonial wear so he might as well go all the way.

The prince loved pretty things and he ‘d gushed about this uniform plenty in the past.

Virgil went down to check on the princes’ caretaker and to get some breakfast.

“Good morning, Patton,” he greeted. Patton looked up from his oven and grinned widely as he whipped his hands on his messy apron.

“Well, don’t you look nice today Virgil!” he exclaimed, his light blue butterfly wings fluttering in excitement as Virgil took some bread and cheese.

“I’d hug you but I wouldn’t dare ruin that fabulous outfit,” he teased.

Virgil allowed a smile but straightened his back. He was still working. He was always working since they came to this forsaken tower.

“Yes, I felt that the occasion called for it. Just one more year,” he said formally.

Patton nodded, a soft longing in his eyes. “I’m sure the princes will be happy with that. The last four years have been pretty hard on them.”

Virgil nodded. “The Duke of the dark forest seems to make do mostly. I’m more worried about his highness our future king,” he admitted. “I fear he takes harder to us being in exile with him than to his own isolation.” Not that the prince would admit to it. He could see it though. Any time anyone gave even the smallest indication of longing for home or even just the grassy field beyond the walls of their tower and the Prince seemed to bow under his guilt over their circumstances. Circumstances that weren’t his fault. It was the dragon witch, his uncle, who had made the threats and his father, the king, who chose to hide his son until his coronation. And their companionship was all by choice. They all volunteered to join the prince, including his brother.

“Well, maybe having a handsome knight like yourself bring him this special birthday pie will cheer him up!” Patton suggested as he uncovered a delicious looking pie and nudged it towards Virgil who chose to ignore the handsome knight comment. “Janus already took the duke’s pie downstairs. I believe the young prince fell asleep in the training room again,” Patton stated with an exasperated but fond sigh.

“I rather he expends his energy in that room than anywhere he can be a hazard to us. I’m sure Master Logan would agree,” he stated as he carefully picked up the pie. Patton nodded. “He and Janus have their hands full teaching those boys,” he admitted.

“Well, some things never change,” Virgil grinned before nodding at Patton in goodbye and making his way up. He could hear the sound of Prince Remus going on about something to Janus downstairs. He didn’t understand what, but the Duke’s voice was unmistakable.

He passed Master Logan’s study. Logan had been the one to take him in as a young troubled kid and given him the education and opportunities he needed to make it where he was today. Patton was nice and kind. But if Virgil had to point at anyone he felt closest to in this tower, it would be Logan.

Not counting the prince, his future king, but that was unfair.

Virgil had been dedicated to his protection and wellbeing since he was twelve. And they’d been as close as a commoner or a guard could hope to be with the heir to the fairy throne.

His loyalty and devotion were unwavering. And he felt like the prince cared for and appreciated him. People gossiped and teased about it. But Virgil didn’t care. And neither did the prince.

“Your highness?” Virgil asked as he knocked on the door carefully.

“Come in,” the prince’s voice called.

Virgil walked in and found his prince sitting on the windowsill looking out over their surroundings. He was wearing a white dress with golden edges, around his waist a red band that had a long red cape attached to the back, standing it would likely end at his ankles. His big, elegant red wings, befitting his status, fluttering slowly in longing for the sky he was looking at.

He wasn’t wearing his golden flower crown, which was an indication to his saddened mood. It broke Virgil’s heart. He was aware that after today, he’d known the prince longer in captivity than he’d known him when he was happy and free.

Virgil straightened his back and spread his wings, he had to put on a strong front, for the Prince’s sake here. No drooping wings, no wavering posture.

Virgil’s wings weren’t as elegant as those of the prince and the duke's, or pretty like Patton’s nor where they practical and modest like Janus’ or Logan’s.

On the streets of the capitol he’d gotten in a lot of trouble for wings shaped like those of a dragon. But at the court, it was a something for which he was to be respected. Still, Virgil had trouble to unlearn the bad things he’d been taught about it. The prince’s uncle was born with the same wing type. But he’d gone down a dark path, leading to his nickname. But at the court no one judged Virgil for the actions of a man he’d never met.

Wingtypes weren’t genetically. They revealed something about your inner self. Or so people believed. Their color their shape. It all supposedly played a part. Anyway, none of that was important right now.

“Patton asked me to bring you something to eat,” he said as he walked to the small table in the room and put down the pie. The prince sighed and finally looked towards Virgil and his eyes widened.

“Virgil… You look stunning,” he said.

Virgil fought down a blush. The prince never bothered with formalities, not when they were kids and by the time he turned sixteen and people started to tell him that he couldn’t be so casual with staff members, his life was threatened and he was sent away for five years where no one could tell him what to do for appearances sake.

“Thank you milord,” Virgil said calmly. “I figured today’s occasion deserved me putting in a little effort. Happy birthday,” he bid.

“Thank you Virgil… Can I make one request for my birthday though? Please?”

Virgil knew he would have a hard time denying his prince anything, but the prince didn’t need, couldn’t be allowed, to know that.

“If it is within my power,” he allowed.

The prince smiled, excitement springing to life in his eyes once again. “It is! Just… Call me by my name? Just for today?” he pleaded.

Virgil felt almost angry. This was not right. Such a humble request could not be the one gift the prince asked of him. It just didn’t make sense! But he didn’t say any of that aloud.

“Well… I suppose that can be arranged… Roman,” he allowed. It felt odd to say his name aloud. He hadn't ever done that, not even when they were kids and he helped him evade tutors.

The prince, Roman, beamed happily. “One more thing?” he asked, looking like he felt he was testing his luck. Virgil nodded, indicating he could continue.

“This pie is too big for me… Have breakfast with me?” he asked hopefully.

Roman always tried to get them in a more casual setting. Virgil almost continuously ept Roman company so long as he didn’t need to make his rounds, which weren’t that extensive in a tower built to house six people and little more that he could not leave.

Normally he insisted on some form of formality but… It was his birthday. And Roman was denied so much already. He could grant him whatever he desired today if it was in his power to give it.

“Alright. But only because Patton’s cooking is irresistible,” he allowed in a slightly teasing tone.

Roman lit up and as they ate, he rambled about all kinds of things and Virgil listened and engaged in the conversation until…

“And then Logan said the floating lights are coming back tonight! Can you believe it? On our birthday! That has to be a good sign!”

Virgil pondered that, though Roman didn’t realize it. He was still rambling on.

The floating lights had worried them the first time they appeared.

But Logan and Janus concluded that they weren’t dangerous. They were a natural part of the magic in this valley. Logan had figured out what caused them to appear, though Virgil never quite understood it.

Roman adored the lights. The first time he’d seen them he’d talked at length about how amazing it would be to fly amongst them.

Virgil didn’t do bad ideas… But now he was entertaining one of his own…

“I need you to talk me out of something,” he pleaded.

Janus looked up from their books in surprise. Virgil had found them in their study during his round of the tower. Roman was in a much better mood when Virgil left his room, though he was clearly still not back to his old self. He hadn’t been for years.

“Whatever do you mean? Isn’t it usually your job to do that?” Janus asked intrigued.

“I know, so please return the favor. Be as petty as you need to. But I need you to tell me not to have a midnight birthday picnic with everyone to watch the floating lights and to let us all stretch our wings,” he rambled.

Janus smirked. “It would make our future king ecstatic though,” they mused.

“That’s not how you are supposed to do it! You are supposed to remind me that there is a threat against his life. That leaving the tower is strictly forbidden by the king. That it is my job to keep us all in. That a taste of freedom might make tomorrow harder on him…”

“You are doing a good job yourself,” Janus pointed out.

“Then why do I still want to tell Patton to get a basket ready?” Virgil demanded.

“Because…” Janus stated slowly, their eyes mischievous but not unkind.  “The heir is in your charge. You’d do anything for his safety, it’s your calling. But protecting him is about more than physical wellbeing. You see him wither away and you want to protect him from that too. You want to make him shine again.

It’ll be dark and the lights will likely obscure our presence rather than reveal it. I can go into the details but basically, they outshine us and as long as we don’t fly out above them anyone flying by will likely notice the tower before they notice us.

Tonight might be the safest time to take a little risk,” Janus said.

Virgil groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have counted on you,” he grumbled as he turned to leave.

“Now where are you going?” Janus smiled smugly, knowing full well that Virgil wasn’t going to admit that the sorcerer had told him exactly what he’d been wanting to hear.

“To get a dumb picnic ready!” Virgil growled before slamming the door.

Virgil knocked on the door to Roman’s room. Patton was getting everything ready. Everyone was alerted of the plan. Except for the one he was doing this for.

That came now.

The door swung open, Roman was now wearing his crown.

Virgil wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that simply having breakfast with him and acting more like equals had put him in that much of a better mood.

The fatigue and sadness hadn’t completely left his face. Hopefully this news would do the trick.

“Virgil you’re back!” he grinned.

“I was literally down the hall and I was gone for maybe half an hour,” he pointed out.

Roman chuckled. “Yes, but between having you call me by my name and suckering you into having breakfast with me, I wasn’t sure if you’d had your fill of my company for the day,” he joked. At least, Virgil hoped he was joking.

“I wouldn’t do that to you on your birthday. Speaking of which…” he took a deep breath.

“We’ll be having a midnight picnic to watch the lights. So you might want to take a nap so you can be well rested for our outing,” he said formally.

Roman clapped his hands and jumped several fairy feet in the air, making a spin and giggling.

“Oh wonderful yes! Oh! I’ll make some space on the floor then! I have some nice blankets we can use and…”

“Not in here Roman”, Virgil said, anticipating the moment Roman would realize what he meant.

Roman lowered himself to the ground.

“But… My room has the best view and enough room. Remus’ might have a good view too, but it is a mess.”

“Not in here,” Virgil repeated.

Roman’s frown persisted for a bit moment and then slowly it started to give way to incredulous awe.

“You… You can’t mean…”

“There are conditions,” Virgil warned. “We can’t fly too high and the moment I think someone might be coming we head inside right away. We can’t be too loud either. Understood?”

Roman gasped teary eyed holding his hands in front of his face and nodded.

“Yes, yes, I promise Virgil!” he said earnestly.

Virgil nodded. “Good, in that case. We still have a few hours before sunset. You think you can try to focus on your swordplay practice?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded again and followed him to the training room.

Hours later, the sun had set and Virgil was standing in front of the door to the outside. The door only he could open. The one he was supposed to keep closed until it was time to get Roman to his coronation and no moment sooner.

But if he didn’t do this now, then Roman would lose his light by the time he was sat on the throne.

He took a deep breath and broke the seal he’d put in on the order of the king four years ago.

It gave way almost too easy. But Virgil knew that no one but him would be able to do this.

The door opened and Virgil was knocked to the side into Logan and Patton.

Duke Remus had rushed outside and was doing laps already.

“Well that is a complete surprise,” Janus drawled bemused as they walked after the duke their staff in hand.

“Oh goodness. This is so exciting!” Patton giggled as he walked on with Logan, his favorite dress flowing in the late-night breeze.

Virgil sighed. No turning back. He looked back and found Roman looking at the outside world with wide eyes, a little hesitant.

“Roman?” he asked confused. He’d imagined the young prince would’ve been right behind his brother.

Roman smiled apologetically. “It seems I’m more nervous about going out there than I thought I’d be,” he admitted quietly.

Virgil nodded, he could understand that. “I’ll be right at your side the whole time. No one is getting past me,” he promised. If it went wrong today, he would give the others the ability to get to the tower. Logan had a received a master key. He could lock the door again and keep it that way until after the deadline. He didn’t tell Roman this though. He would object.

Roman nodded. “Yeah… Yeah you are right,” he smiled and walked outside alongside Virgil.

The second Roman’s feet hit the grass he froze. He lifted his head closed his eyes and took in the feeling of grass tickling the edges of his feet. Virgil had insisted the princes at least wore sandals.

Virgil watched as a smile slowly spread across Roman’s face. His wings spread out and slowly he lifted from the ground. Just when Virgil contemplated following him up, Roman gave a few powerful beats of his wings and rose fast.

In a panic Virgil chased after him. He couldn’t lose sight of him.

The wind was rushing across his skin, welcoming him like an old friend, but he had no time to greet him in return.

Suddenly Roman came to a stop and without warning he made a dive, laughing in ecstasy.

Virgil dove after him, recalling the pull of gravity and effortlessly bending his wings to adjust his fall.

Both came to a halt near the ground, a stone’s throw away from where Patton and Logan were setting up the picnic.

“That was amazing! I’d forgotten how good that feels!” Roman exclaimed in a whisper shout.

Virgil appreciated his effort to adhere to the rules he’d made.

“Glad you like your present,” he smiled, his annoyance at the scare already forgotten.

Roman turned and nodded eagerly. He was about to say something, but master Logan interrupted.

“It is time,” he announced.

Remus skidded to a stop nearby and Janus apparrated in their cluster. And a moment later it was like small orbs of light grew from the earth and floated up.

The group gasped in collective awe.

“Virgil… Can we?” Roman asked after a few minutes.

Virgil nodded. The lights would stay all night. They could have a quick fly around the field before eating.

Roman grinned. “Race ya!” he exclaimed as he took of. Virgil chuckled. Definitely worth it.

“Virgil look!” Roman exclaimed suddenly. Virgil followed his gaze and saw a light seemed stuck in the branches of a nearby tree. Which came as a surprise. Getting stuck implied being solid. And Virgil was fairly sure even Logan didn’t think the lights had a body to get stuck with.

It was very high up for any creature. Especially one the size of a toadstool. And Roman had never gone so high. But Virgil had.

Virgil nodded. “I see it, stay here,” he instructed as he flew up. The closer he got the clearer it was that the light was struggling to get away.

“Calm down okay? I'm here,” he assured the light before pushing the branches to the side to allow the light some space to move. When it got loose if spun around him and, amazingly, shifted hues. Going through the whole rainbow before settling on Virgil's purple.

“Cool,” Virgil whispered. He turned to look at Roman and see if he was just as blown away by this as him. But then he saw Roman… talking? To a red light.

Not feeling comfortable with being left out of that conversation, Virgil let himself freefall as far as he could and landed by Roman's side.

To his relief, Roman was beaming.

“Virgil! Meet her majesty, queen of the wishing lights! She thanks you for saving one of her young charges.”

Virgil blinked. Tonight just got way more complicated than he'd planned for.

“ uh… welcome?” he said hesitantly.

The queen light did the rainbow thing before settling on purple too.

“Greetings knight Virgil. I look forward to knowing you,” she spoke seemingly in his head.

Before he could recover from that, a bunch of other lights swarmed him, Roman and the others who'd come to join them. No words in this time. Just burning curiosity.

“Oh boy,” Virgil sighed.

#sanders sides #ts sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #prinxiety #ask blog #ask the fairies #fairytower

[loganscroftersstash]

love from the spotlight; chapter two

green tea and green eyes.

—

cw for food!

—

After a bit more convincing and a bit of reassuring (not that Logan needed it), he drove himself to the address Remus gave him. Apparently it was one of the bandmate’s homes— which seemed unprofessional, but whatever. Not his prerogative. He parked on the street and walked up to the blue house, glancing up and down the door before he used his sleeve-covered hand to knock on the door.

In a few moments, a slightly taller man threw open the door and grinned. “Hey! You must be Logan! Come on in, mister!”

Logan glanced them up and down quickly, examining the current state of what he was working with. He seemed clean, if not excessively casual, and his nose was instantly attacked with a warm sweet scent. He didn’t hate it, but it was certainly strange in his mind. Who would want a sweet scented candle…?

Patton ushered him inside and shut the door, grinning. “I made some cookies if you want some! They’re for the whole group! Thought we could have a little tea party and get to know each other! What kind of tea do you like?”

That is where the sweet scent was coming from— did they say tea party? Logan wanted to cringe at the childish phrasing but he held his tongue; he was meant to be agreeable. He’d be spending a considerable amount time with these people… “…That is tolerable. Any kind of tea is fine.”

“Perfect! If you continue down the hall and take a left, there’s the living room. You’ll see the others in there the moment ya walk in! Can’t miss ‘em!” Patton grinned, and dashed back into the kitchen.

Logan was a little hesitant, but complied. A slow stroll down the hallway gave him time to eye the decor of the house. There were a lot of photos. Mostly of the alleged Patton growing up, but a few of his bandmates as well. Everything felt so cozy and warm, like a nice tight hug. Logan hated it.

After a few moments of dawdling he made his way into the living room, and was immediately met with four different pairs of eyes on him. One was immediately recognizable— he looked just like Remus but without the creepy mustache— but the other three not so much.

“Ah! You must be Mr. Esther!” His lookalike stood, grinning. “I’m Roman. I’m the lead singer and guitarist. Welcome to the team!” He extended a hand to shake.

“I don’t do handshakes. And thank you. I hope to be a suitable replacement for the time being.”

“Oh— alright,” Roman awkwardly put his hand down. Weird, but whatever. This whole guy was kinda weird. Scrawny, a pretty face, but he dressed like an English teacher. An argyle black sweater overtop a black button up and blue tie and dress pants? Roman thinks this guy missed the school bus.

“This is Virgil Foster! He’s our drummer—” He grinned and motioned towards the purple-haired fellow, who dressed like he was on his way to somewhere between a JoAnn’s Fabric and a Fall Out Boy Concert. Although Logan did appreciate the aesthetic he carried, even if the eye makeup was a bit… heavy for his preference.

Roman leaned down to whisper to Logan, “If you ask me, he’s pretty intense. You’ll get used to him,” He pulled away suddenly, grinning again. “And this is our manager, Janus Drake! He helps book all our gigs and stuff, I don’t really know.”

“…Right.” Logan murmurs. This seems highly unorganized. “Well, greetings Virgil, Janus. I’ve already met Patton so it seems I have become accustomed with everyone here. Wonderful to meet you all.”

“Yes! Yes, of course.” Roman grinned. “Here, have a seat,” He motions to the couch, and Logan sits, glancing around. Again, the room was very ornately decorated with framed photos and little trinkets, even some stuffed plushies. Was this Patton’s choice of decor…?

Logan looked up as Patton entered the room, holding a tray in his hand. There was a kettle and five mugs, as well as a plate of cookies. The supposed tea he was talking about seemed to be green tea. “Here, you guys! Dish ‘em out however you want!” Patton grinned, setting it down on the coffee table.

“Oooh!! Wonderful, Patton! Thank you!” Roman grins, taking a cookie. Virgil does the same, while Janus pours himself some tea. Logan just watches… is this normal? He feels very out of place.

“So! Logan— tell us about yourself! Whaddya do? What’s your life like?” Patton asked, starry eyed and smiling brightly, so much so Logan wants to look away from the horridly emotional display.

“Well…” He glanced down. “I am a college student majoring in education and minoring in astronomy. I play piano, guitar, bass, violin, viola, triangle, and—”

“Woah! You play a lot,” Patton grinned, glancing over at the other members. Virgil didn’t seem to be paying all that much attention, neither did Janus, but Roman seemed… He couldn’t decipher the emotion on his face.

“Yes, indeed I do.” Logan nodded. “I also study several languages such as Spanish, French, Italian, and Latin.”

“We gotta real egghead over here.” Virgil remarked, smirking. “Why would a nerdy guy like you wanna be in a band?”

“To put it simply, I don’t. I do not categorize myself as a performer. However, I ‘owe Remus one’ so here I am.” Logan nodded. “I am skilled enough to suffice until you are able to find a permanent replacement.”

“Wow, how straightforward of you, Esther.” Janus murmured, glancing up at Logan. “You seem so dedicated.”

Logan sighed. “I understand I do not seem enthusiastic, but I am treating this as a job. I guarantee you I will put forth my best effort and dedicate all the time and energy to this I deem necessary.”

“Well, that sounds good enough for me!” Patton grinned, taking another cookie from the plate. “What are your pronouns, kiddo?”

“I’m a grown adult, and they are he and him.” Logan adjusted his glasses with his left hand, glancing around. “How about you all?”

“I’m he/they! So is Ro! Virgil is he/it and Janus is they/he.” Patton grinned. “Ooh— here’s another question for you! What’s your favorite color?”

Dear god, he felt like he was being interviewed by a kindergartner. He couldn’t bring himself to be too upset at Patton, though. They just seemed so… wholesome.

“I quite enjoy blue.” Logan hummed.

Patton gasped. “Oh my goodness— no way!!! Blue is my favorite color too!!” He grinned, pointing to his pastel blue shirt. “We’re twinsies, Lo!!”

“…Right.” Logan murmured.

“Do you always wear a tie?” Roman asked suddenly, leaning forward with his hand on his knee.

These were a random variety of questions. Logan did not enjoy it much at all. “I do.”

“It makes you look like a nerd.” Roman snickered, earning a glare from Patton.

Logan sighed. Of course. Even in college he could not escape the dreaded high school insulting. “How insightful of you, Roman,” He muttered, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

Virgil was smirking a bit— glad someone was appreciative of his rebuttal— but Roman was far from impressed. He shrugged. “Just saying. Maybe not the particular vibe for the band… we’re advertising to youth! People who want to let go and get whisked away by the music! Not middle school liberians.”

Logan couldn’t help the slight glare on his face. Roman certainly seemed to enjoy stirring trouble… Before Logan had the chance to reply in any way, Janus was speaking.

“Ehem. Anyway, Logan; I’ve printed you out our rehearsal schedule. We usually rehearse every Friday at around five and get dinner after we are finished. Extra rehearsals may be in the cards, depending on how we feel as a group, or how fast you pick up.” They pulled a piece of paper from their folder, handing it to Logan.

“That is fine. I should not have any conflicts with this.” Logan nodded, glancing down. At least someone here was organized.

“Wonderful. Perfect, then. Do you have a bass?” Janus asked.

He had to think for a moment, but nodded. “Yes. I do.”

“Alright. Then, I believe that’s all the official business taken care of. Before you leave, see Roman for sheet music on your parts.” Janus hummed, throwing a glance towards the aforementioned Roman, who was whispering back and forth with Patton.

It was a certain purple-clad person’s turn for interrogating. “So. L. What gotcha into music anyway?” Virgil asked, sipping some tea.

“Well… I suppose I’ve enjoyed it all my life— who doesn’t enjoy music— but as a child, I had a lot of downtime on my hands. I took many advanced classes and was in high school by the time I was nine or ten. However, graduating and going to college wasn’t possible for my family, even with scholarships, so they decided to keep me in high school, for that reason and to hopefully better socialize me. I took a lot of music centric electives out of sheer boredom.”

“Holy shit. So you’re like, actually really smart.” Virgil chuckled.

“I certainly am.” Logan confirmed. He’d gotten used to the shock and surprise when people found out he was basically a living super computer.

“Can you sing at all?” It asked, shifting their jacket sleeve in between their fingers.

“…If you are asking if I can make musical sounds with the voice, especially words with a set tune, then yes. I can. If you are asking if I can do it well, I believe that yes, I can.”

Virgil blinked at the deadpan answer, but quickly shook it off. “Think you can give Princey a run for his money as vocalist?”

Roman wasn’t paying attention at all, but he had just tuned in as Virgil jabbed at him. “Excuse me! How very dare you, Virgil!”

He just laughed, leaning against the couch. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just funny to see you get all worked up.” He admitted, earning a slap to the knee from Roman.

“Trying to take away my spot…” He murmured with a sigh.

“Okay, okay. Anyways.” Virgil chuckled as he spoke. “Welcome in, Logan. If you can’t tell already, Roman is… a bit much.”

“I certainly can tell. He and his brother have that in common…” Logan sighed.

Virgil laughed. “Oooh, shit, I forgot you live with Remus. My condolences.”

Logan smiled a bit. “Thank you. Sometimes I wonder how I put up with him…”

“Yeah. How do you deal with… with him?”

“I am not sure. We typically keep our spaces separate and interact very little, aside from watching crime series together. Other than that, we maybe interact two or three times a day.” He murmured, glancing down.

“Lo! You gonna make me eat all these cookies myself?” Patton asked with a chuckle, a subtle plea to ask Logan to try one.

“Oh. No, of course not. I just simply don’t usually consume treats like this.” Logan said.

Janus glanced up, before back to the side.

“Oh! Okay. Well, no pressure.” Patton grinned, taking another cookie for himself. “Oooh— guys, let’s tell him about our gigs!!”

—

Their conversation had gone well! Logan said he had some business to attend to, so after about an hour or so of talking, he had gone. Patton led him to the door and made sure he got in his car all safe before closing the door, grinning.

“Okay, is it just me, or does Logan seem like a total… a total bitch?!” Roman huffed, exasperated as he crossed his arms.

“What?! Roman, I’m surprised at you!” Patton scolded. “I thought he was a nice young man!”

“Yeah, dude. What the hell is your problem?” Virgil asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as well.

Roman glared. “He’s so… he’s so stuck up. Like he’s better than us all! He’s so smart and ohhh look he knows so much!! He doesn’t even want to be in the band! He just… ugh, I don’t like him.”

“Well, suck it up, Roman. He’s all we got for at least two weeks, so, maybe try to stick it out?” Virgil offered. “Besides, he’s not that bad. He’s a little… quiet, maybe takes shit too literally, but he’s not a bad guy.”

“Yeah! Logan is a little different but I think he’s awesome!” Patton grinned. “I think he just feels uneasy with a new group, is all. Try to make him feel welcome, Ro…” He puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling. “Give him a shot. Okay?”

“Fine. Whatever..” He sighed. “I’m sure he’s… fine.”

They smile again, nodding. “I know you’re stressed. There’s been a lotta change really quick. But it’s okay, Ro! You’ve got us! We’re here for ya, okay, kiddo?”

“Yeah. What he said, I guess,” Virgil murmurs from his corner.

“…Right. Thank you.” Roman sighs. “You’re right. I have been stressed…”

Janus peeks in from the other room, eying the group as they console Roman. He already knows how this is going to unfold, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little excited for it.

—

woo! chapter two is DONE! honestly im speedwriting this bc i cant stop thinking abt it. my writing still feels rusty cuz its been so long, but i hope u guys enjoy anyway!!! reblog if u enjoy, if you wanna be added to a tag list for updates lmk! and feel free to pester me abt my au in my asks <3 ty!

#love from the spotlight! #sanders sides #logan sanders #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #anxiety sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #dark creativity sanders #creativity sanders #logic sanders #morality sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides au #sanders sides fic #logince #slowburn

[areweevercameraready]

more than beliefs (11: a girl worth fighting for)

A/N: happy thursday!

WARNINGS: a bit of a scuffle and a black eye — i don't think there's much else but, as usual, if you spot something and think it should be flagged, please let me know!

Words: 5,884

here it is on AO3!

here are the MtB masterpost and the full Chivalry series masterpost!

enjoy!!

As much as Roman had mentioned her, none of them really thought the Dragon Witch would be a real person. Or, rather, real character. Someone this real. A house. A role. 

She was draped in very regal, medieval clothing. A scarf was wrapped around her hair, so long that the ends billowed and glittered above her cape. When she walked, it was hard to tell if her legs were moving down there or if she was just hovering in a line. Logan watched to see. He was impressed by the accuracy of her clothing. Sure, her dress was much closer to the fourteenth century than the fifth, when King Arthur allegedly ruled, but Roman must have put in a lot of thought to make her as accurate as he did to a time period, at least. And Logan was pretty sure that was an accurate way of pinning a headscarf. Roman must have done his research. Or Remus, because he seemed familiar with her.

Remus was chatting away in answer of her questions. Given that her home was on his side, it was probably safe to assume he knew her. Maybe they were friendly, even. That made her seem a little less of a stranger, like he were following the connected threads between them, though it still made her seem hostile. Someone that was friendly toward Roman and Remus both. Everyone was still trying to wrap their heads around the idea that the twins were friendly toward each other. Remus had seemed so concerned about his brother. 

Out of all of them, Janus just wanted to talk with Roman. That’s all. 

There hasn’t exactly been opportunity for it given Romans hatred of him now. But it was warranted somewhat. But if only Roman could understand that it was for Thomas’ good, that it was for the best.

If only he’d allow Janus to make his case. This was just so frustrating. 

And none of these advisors WERE Roman. Yes, it was good to talk with them, to hear bits and pieces of what Roman thought of him. The Damsel’s assertion (or, rather, laughter) over how little Roman liked him was enough to fully convince him that he needed to talk with Roman specifically. Not any part of him. No fragmented communication was as useful or as thorough as a direct conversation. But, well. Thomas nor Roman were known for their abilities of confrontation.

As they walked deeper into the cave, the sides began straightening and smoothing out, jagged red surfaces turning into carved walls. At some point, the torches and lanterns shifted into chandelier lights, and the scorched rock beneath their feet turned into a thick gray rug. 

The Damsel and the Thief were following closely after her as well. Janus brought up the rear, continuing to hide from view, but he wanted to get a better view. Virgil was next up at the front, eyeing everything with an air of distrust. This was technically Remus’ side, that’s where she lived. But this newcomer, the Witch, seemed to be influenced by both Creativities. Virgil was trying to size her up. 

“Should we introduce ourselves?” Patton whispered to Logan while they walked. 

It must not have been quiet enough because she turned to look over her shoulder at them. Patton let out a small “meep,” but she chuckled warmly. 

“You don’t have to, but you can if you would like. I know who you are, Morality,” the Witch had a cackle in her voice, just a little foreboding. 

“Makes sense. Did Roman tell you about us?” Virgil asked. 

She nodded. “A lot more than you would think. And Remus. I’ve heard a lot about you all over the years.”

Logan tilted his head at the phrasing. “Over the years?” he repeated. “How long have you existed?”

To that, the Dragon Witch just grinned. It was hard to tell if she meant it to be intimidating or if that happened accidentally, because she had rows of jagged dragon teeth. “Longer than you would expect, Logic.”

He glanced to the side, swallowing the excess water in his mouth. The motion made her laugh, at least, and she waved her hand.

“I was among the first forms that the Imagination made. Back when…Before Roman and Remus,” she sighed, looking back down the hall. “Come. The others are waiting for us.”

The Witch continued walking down the hall and, now, Remus was quiet. He was skipping, but he looked back at all of them with some kind of smugness. 

Happy that they understood. Or, rather, were going to understand. Maybe they understood nothing. These fuckers were SO confident in their everythings that when things like this, people like Vi and things like the Tree, evidence of their depth, whenever that was displayed, they all seemed to lose it. And Remus kind of reveled in it? He loved throwing them off, surprising them. It wasn’t that hard. But it felt fulfilling. 

Roman needed their help, though. Remus scowled at the thought, but that didn’t change how true it was. That’s half what he was, he was the truth-teller, he was the one without secrets. Without things to hide. He was an open book and the writing on the pages. Roman was the actor, the one who wanted no one to know anything about the reality of him. Remus was only ever a secret because no one, not Janus, not Thomas, no one ever wanted to ask.

Oh, he was going to beat the ever loving shit out of Roman for making him be responsible like this. Oh! The fucking nerve! 

At the end of the hall was an ornate door and a very normal looking shoe rack, almost homely, almost intimidating. Vi didn’t take off any shoes but Remus immediately dropped to the floor, one leg kicking out in a death drop, and then began trying to pull his knee-length boots off. 

Virgil, out of everyone, snorted at the motion. He’d been digging his nails into his palms for the whole walk, trying to size the Dragon Witch up. Unlike the Dragon or even the Damsel, it was hard. She was nothing like how she looked. Like, right now she just looked really pristine. But when she was a dragon, she was bigger than THE Dragon. Virgil had felt her nails. And she had Remus batting for her. 

It was enough of a threat that she was friends with Remus. But she was also with Roman. 

That was important, all of them were thinking. 

What did it mean, she’d known Remus and Roman before they were two separates? They could barely remember Creativity, when he was around. The split had happened when they were so young, when they first started daydreaming, really. Patton remembered him the most, but…only the wonder and the horror. 

They all had slowly taken off their shoes, dropping them near the shoe rack. Once everyone’s shoes were off, the Dragon Witch waved a hand toward the door, and its lock clicked unceremoniously. Inside was a homely foyer, like the inside of a Victorian house. Not much like a cave. 

Patton was the first in, as usual, looking around with less apprehension and more curiosity. He was followed almost immediately by Remus, who barged in and shouted, “HEY FUCKOS, GUESS WHO’S HOME!”

Logan took a moment to organize the shoes in a row out of the way of the hall, the last one into the house. Once he was in, the door snapped shut, with the Dragon Witch still standing by it. 

“Thank you,” she hummed. “You’re very organized.”

Logan didn’t know how to feel about that. He tried not to. “I do appreciate order,” he agreed. 

At that, she chuckled.

“AYOOOOOO REMUS,” they heard the Dragon shout from around an opening forward. It looked like it led to a kitchen of sorts. 

“You’re very afraid of disorder. I don’t know why. It doesn’t bite,” the Dragon Witch continued with Logan, and then she gestured toward the opening, saying louder for everyone, “Everyone’s in the dining room.”

The Sides didn’t seem very ready to move on. The foyer was huge, photos lining the walls, a coatrack with some cloaks and jackets that could belong to either of the twins. Patton was looking over the photos, many of which looked like paintings. Virgil was to one of his sides, eyeing Janus, who was at the other. 

The twins had managed to hide all of this. Janus’ eyes were glued to a photo, an old one, a polaroid that was framed. It was of Roman and Remus, both maybe ten years old. They were holding foam swords and standing on top of a dragon, looking proud — the very same Dragon Witch who was ushering them into the dining area.

“Everyone’s here. They bring updates, so I’ve heard,” the Dragon Witch explained as she drifted into the dining area.

The Thief and the Damsel were first to lead the pack in, but their departure drew Logan. The room was an interesting look into a past that none of them were privy to. Remus followed close behind, familiar with these things.

Around the room were mementos of the past. Family photos of Remus and Roman as children. As teenagers. The Dragon Witch in the background and holding hands with both, her hands curling over both of their shoulders like a proud mother. There were a few paintings and decor on the walls, too. One of Remus and Roman standing over her dragon form, as if having won a fight, and even she looked happy about it.

Patton stayed by the wall, eyes turned upward at everything. There was so much history here, so much he hadn’t known. They hadn’t even known Roman and Remus were friends, really. They seemed to not like each other quite a bit. So this was interesting. Even hearing the Damsel was calling Remus in to help was unexpected. But…well. He shouldn’t assume to know everything about Roman, right, after all of this. 

It was settling in, how much they’d all assumed. How much he’d assumed, Patton specifically. He thought he knew enough about Roman to be able to guess what he might be thinking or what he might want…but if he didn’t even know what Roman’s relationship to Remus looked like…

How much was Roman hiding? How much of his own feelings was he hiding? 

Had he been hiding them at all? Had Patton just not been looking, not been paying attention? Had none of them been paying enough attention? 

Had none of them asked? Even Virgil seemed surprised by everything, and Virgil had been on Roman’s side.

The Bard was helping bandage something on the Artist’s shoulder, his paint-covered hoodie sitting on the ground by his feet. It looks like they’d gotten into a scuffle with one of Remus’ creations, to which Remus acknowledged with a loud snort. The Artist shot him a glare. 

“Don’t hate the player,” Remus put his hands up in mock surrender. 

At least the playful sentiment got the Artist to roll his eyes. It must be a familiar argument. 

The Thief shuffled besides the Bard, who looked up to him with a wan grin. 

“Hey, hey,” he greeted, voice soft, but the smile dropped as he saw the Thief’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

The Thief, jaw firmly set, looked away. 

The Damsel, too, grimaced. Neither of them seemed to want to say anything about it. 

Janus would have been fine breaking the news had he not been wary of the other advisors being upset with him. Logan opened his mouth to explain, but the Dragon interrupted. 

“Wait,” the Dragon asked, wings falling to his sides with a scowl. “Where’s Gavin?” 

The Artist perked up, brow furrowing, and the Bard blinked in surprise. His eyes scanned through the crowd again — Virgil shoved his hands further into his pockets, dreading the upcoming confrontation — before he turned around to the Thief again. 

“....Eric, I’m so sorry,” the Bard whispered, tucking the final bit of bandage around the Artist’s arm quickly. “Eric, baby.”

The Artist stood, stepping away from the Bard and the Thief as he put his clothing back on. When he moved away, the Thief all but collapsed into his vacant seat, and the Bard quickly wrapped his arms around the Thief’s cloaked figure.

They pressed into each other, the Bard biting his lip worriedly, and the Thief just…curled up. His arms pressed into his chest and he fought against the safety of the Bard’s embrace, trying to keep himself from crying, because if he thought too hard about how he’d failed the Child…

“The Child has gone missing,” Logan explained, voice more gentle, now. 

No one interrupted. The Dragon nodded, mouth pressed into a firm line. The Damsel had shuffled to sit at the table beside him and he knocked his crowned head against the Dragon’s hip. 

“Do you have any-any theories, Logan? I have one, but I would-I am interested in-in your analysis,” the Damsel invited. 

Oh. Logan tried to keep his surprise to a minimum, but it was difficult. He hadn’t anticipated being called on like that. 

Patton wrapped his arm around Logan’s, though kept quiet, as if he understood how big this moment was. As if it were anything at all. Virgil sat down; Janus elected to stand closer to the Dragon Witch. The animosity was lowest here. 

“Well,” Logan began, clearing his throat. “Evidence tells us that something happened to the Playwright. And regardless of if he’d gone willingly to his assailant, it would stand to reason that, should they attack again, they would expect your guards to be up. Two is unlikely to be a coincidence, in this situation. I would hazard…that it could be three. That perhaps the Playwright and the Child are in the same place as Roman.”

The Damsel nodded in agreement, lips pursed. Janus, too, hummed softly. They were all on the same wavelength. They didn’t know where Roman went, but with advisors being kidnapped, it was all the more reason to believe either Roman too was kidnapped, or Roman…might be doing the kidnapping. To what ends, though? And is he alone?

“Hey, Eric,” the Artist asked. 

He’d put his jacket back on and was rotating the shoulder that the Bard had just bandaged. He wasn’t as much of a tactical fighter as he was a no-holds-barred-anything-goes fighter. He was struck and he’d live with that injury, since the Bard was trying to conserve energy. And his arms were full of the Thief. If only the Playwright were here, though….

The Thief turned ever so slightly toward the Artist, and Virgil got the sinking suspicion that no matter what the Artist asked, it wouldn’t end well. The Artist must have had a similar understanding, because he put his hands up in as nonthreatening a way as he could.

“I don’t mean this in like, a judgemental way, but…what happened?” 

Oh, god. No. 

Janus winced at the question, and Virgil hunched more in on himself. He was sitting by the Damsel, almost hidden behind him, with Patton to his other side. Hopefully this wouldn’t be too explosive. 

Whatever contrarian energy the Thief may have had earlier dissipated, though, as his shoulders slumped. Maybe it was the precursor that the Artist wasn’t trying to accuse, and maybe it was because they were searching for the same thing.

“Gav and I had an argument. He…He wanted to go out, help find Playwright with you all. I said we had to stay safe, stay home, keep everyone else out of trouble,” the Thief’s voice was heavy with grief as he explained. “I…when I was washing the dishes, I lost track of him. Or maybe even before that. I didn’t even hear the door open.”

He shook his head. The Artist winced at the explanation, as did the Dragon. And the Bard gave the Thief a squeeze. 

It seemed that everyone knew how harsh this blow was to him. Logan wondered, what did this mean for everyone, that they were so intertwined. What was the impact on Roman. You’d hope that it meant Roman was at ease with himself. 

After all, everyone was working together here. But Roman was the only outlier, he seemed to be in disagreement with all of them. 

There were rarely moments where Thomas was in disagreement with all of the Sides. Considering how these advisors were like Sides to Roman…Logan rubbed his jaw a little in thought. 

Thomas would turn on most of them if he was listening to one specifically. Similar to the play years ago, the one Deceit disguised as Patton had them put on, Thomas was only paying attention to one Side. 

Perhaps Roman was listening to only one of them. 

But all seven were here, in agreement, and Roman was nowhere to be found.

Were there seven?

“We didn’t find much over here,” the Artist confessed. “Just got here, actually, a few minutes before y’all.”

It felt like an effort to change to a more productive topic. The Artist blew out a long exhale before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, man. We’re going to find them.”

“I don’t know who…” the Thief’s voice trailed off. 

“I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything with anyone, and no one I’ve made’d really do that. Everyone with a brain knows not to meddle with you meddlesome kids!” Remus squeaked in dismay, and then he cocked his head to the side in thought. Then, he shook his head again. “Nope, none’ve them’d.”

“Them’d?” the Damsel asked, and Remus snorted at him. 

“I haven’t noticed anyone traversing too oddly, other than the border dweller. And even he’s been more reclusive lately,” the Dragon Witch agreed with a hum. 

“Oh, a new border dweller? You’ve got a neighbor?” Remus asked. 

Logan looked up immediately. That would make sense.

“We should stay on—” the Damsel tried to interrupt, but the Dragon Witch let out a small chuckle in continuation. His authority meant less here, anyway. And meant less to the Dragon Witch.

For good reason, too. “No, no, Roman’s border. The advisor,” the Dragon Witch waved a clawed hand. “He’s been lovely the few times we’ve spoken, but he’s a bit paranoid. He might know something.”

The word advisor sat with everyone for a long while. It took some understanding at the insinuation. 

An advisor, who lived near the border between Roman and Remus’ edges of the Imagination. The Damsel frowned in confusion at the Dragon Witch, mouthing “border?” to himself. The Dragon must not have caught the insinuation at all, because he seemed even more confused by everyone else’s silence. 

Slowly, the Thief peeled off the Bard with a squinted, teary-eyed face to stare at the Dragon Witch. Even the Artist was watching her, brow pinched but mouth hanging open. 

“Excuse me?” the Bard asked, teeth gritted. He seemed to have made the connection first. “Sorry, advisor like. Like us, advisor?”

“That’s who Roman has been listening to,” Logan said. 

Patton frowned, nudging his side gently. “What do you mean?”

“If the advisors are Roman’s Sides….well, we’ve seen what happens when Thomas only considers the opinions of one of us. He acts drastically and without much forethought. Roman seems to be acting the same way,” Logan explained, though he kept his gaze on the agitated advisors watching him. “It means he could be solely listening to another advisor.”

The Dragon Witch must not have known this border dweller was new, because she looked worried. She put a hand over her mouth and turned aside, breaking eye contact with the Bard.

He winced, waving his hand and approaching. “Hey. Hey, Vi. Do you mean advisor like us?”

“....Yes. No wonder he’s not here,” she responded. “I thought you knew of him. He mentioned he’s met some of you.”

The other advisors were missing something. Some sort of crucial information, some epiphany, some kind of connection, because it looked like something was happening in the brains of all of Roman’s advisors. The Dragon’s confused frown turned angry, the Damsel’s hardened into a scowl. The Bard was helpless, frown tight and nostrils flared as he glanced at the Artist, whose eyes were wide. His mouth was slightly open still, but now from breathing. 

Virgil reached over and held his hand. At the very least, the Artist gripped back tight. All this tension was going to make the search later a lot harder, no one’d be able to focus.

The only person who seemed to not be angry was the Thief, who had been staring idly at the Dragon Witch’s feet, eyebrows raising. He must have been making some kind of realization, though, because his hand shot up to his mouth. 

“Oh my god,” the Thief mumbled, voice muffled. “Oh my god, I think I’ve met him.”

The Artist turned so hard his back cracked, and he winced in pain, though he was undeterred from shouting, “YOU HAVE?”

The Thief nodded, eyes closing tight. He hadn’t thought it was real, but if this was someone new, someone who lived by the edge, and was going to start kidnapping them all….well. He always thought he was just good at escaping things. “I…I thought he was…I’ve-I probably have. Maybe I’m going insane. I don’t know. But I think I’ve been-I’ve had dreams where I wake up at the edge. And if there’s one of us that lives there, that’s on the border into the Subconscious normally, then it’s him. It has to be. It can’t not be.”

A dream. It sounded less plausible the more they turned it over in their minds. Janus scoffed — a dream — and Logan bit his tongue to not say anything, but the reality of their situation was damning. 

It didn’t sound likely that a dream was where this mysterious eighth would introduce themselves, though dreams were as real as reality here. More than just the other Sides must have drawn this conclusion, because the Damsel pointedly put his hands behind his back, shoulders stiff and hiked. Guarding his own thoughts, as always. Or maybe guarding himself from the riling Artist, whose hands were pulling through his hair hard enough to pull his bun out of order.

“I’d’ve thought the one of us who knew him was Playwright,” the Artist shouted finally. “That fucker was always knowing more than he ever fucking said. He fucking-God DAMNIT.”

The Dragon leaned over, putting his hands on the Artist’s back in as comforting a way as he could, but the Artist just let go of Virgil’s hand and shrugged the Dragon’s hands off of himself. He jumped to his feet, pacing with his fists curled. Anger dripped off him. 

The colors on his sweater, swirling and abstract, tinged orange. “He fucking-He promised Roman he’d find all of us. He probably fucking found this other guy—Vi, what’s his name?” 

Everyone’s eyes returned to the Dragon Witch, who’d backed up a step. Her hands smoothed down the front of her shirt and she cleared her throat softly. It was something more painful than fear that danced in her expression as she played with the hem of her cape.

“He called himself the Director,” she confessed. “I’m so sorry, I…when I met him, he seemed level-headed. I didn’t expect this of him.”

The Director. As ominous a name as the Damsel, or the Dragon, or the Thief. Their titles were telling. 

The Damsel turned the name over in his head. Director. Someone who sees themselves as a leader. But not in the same way as a Prince, no. They see it as fake. As a facade that they run and, well, more than lead. Direct. They have opinions. Strong ones. 

Immediately, he likens the Director to himself. And…when he was formed, he had some pretty objectionable goals. With the disappearance of the Playwright and the Child gone…with Roman gone…could this Director be a catalyst of some sort? Some other conflict-resolution member? Why would he be hiding in the woods? Why would he have waited all this time?

Had he been alone, holed up by himself, when the likeness to Roman faded away? Had the brown hair and brown eyes, charming voice and sturdy posture, faded away into something else without him understanding why? It had ostensibly been years since then, though the Sides only experienced it in mere months. Did Roman know about him? Or had Roman happened upon him? 

Did he get Roman to do this? 

Logan met his eyes in a quick glance. They must be thinking similar questions. 

They should get going. With a new player, there’s no telling what this Director would have Roman do. Even a name like that…gave implications.

“It sounds like a fair assumption, that Marlowe would know and wouldn’t say anything. He does seem the type to keep things close to his chest,” Janus quipped, shaking his head. “In any case, we should—”

The Artist’s fist collided with his snake eye before he could finish the sentence.

Janus was so surprised and there was so much energy rolled into the attack that he was knocked off his feet, stumbling backward and scooting away. Everyone was surprised; the Thief jumped to his feet, sword drawn immediately, while the Dragon’s tail wrapped around the Artist’s arm without warning. The Bard shouted, “DAVID!” in a scandalized way, just behind the Dragon while he pulled the Artist back. 

In a quick move, Janus was blocked by Virgil, whose arms were spread out in front of him. He leveled a glare at the Artist, panic and anger matched in tandem. Immediately, too, Patton hurried to Janus’ side, holding his arm and pulling him back even more into his own grip. 

The Artist’s eyes were wide, teeth grit in an angry, glaring grimace.

Virgil’s eyes were wider. His hands dropped in front of himself, preparing for the worst. If there were a fight, Virgil knew he could win. He wasn’t a fighter. Thomas wasn’t a fighter. But to protect one of them, he’d do fucking anything. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Virgil hissed, voice dipping lower in panic. 

Logan stood by the Damsel, who was watching the scene play out. He glanced at the stoic prince, shoulders and back straight as he surveyed the turmoil, and stood solidly besides him. There wasn’t much they needed to do. 

Even while he got yanked away, the Artist’s fists were shaking, and when the Dragon wrapped him in his arms, the Artist tried pulling himself out. 

“Let me go, you stupid fucking—fuck,” he snarled. The Artist pointed rough at Janus, who was doing his best to not look over. “Keep Marlowe’s name out of your manipulative fuckin’ mouth, snake!”

The Dragon just sighed, holding him a little tighter. He cast Virgil a look that was bordering on apologetic, and Virgil didn’t move a bit. 

Behind him, Patton held Janus’ shoulders gently. Janus hadn’t expected to be attacked, no sir. He knew Roman was pissed at him, so the advisors must be mad with him, but this was out of left field. This was unexpected. He’d messed up, sure, but this was uncalled for. 

Roman was insane. He wasn’t in his right mind. Janus was fine to just say sorry and move on. Roman just had to stop being a dramatic baby, pushing him away, LITERALLY PUNCHING HIM. 

“Oh,” Patton tutted, and his thumb brushed over Janus’ cheekbone as he cupped his face. 

It was a soft hold, and Janus couldn’t help but lean into it ever so slightly. His eye was puffing up already, he could feel it. 

“That’s gonna be a black eye,” Patton assessed. “Hey, Logie, can you take a look?” 

God fucking damnit. Patton was always so gentle, so caring. 

They weren’t dating anymore. That was behind them all now. 

Patton leaned into a squat, looking back at Logan for advice, and Logan blinked as if he were surprised. An opportunity to be helpful and dispense some information wasn’t going underutilized, however, so Logan knelt down beside them and inspected Janus’ face as well. While he moved — while the Artist’s struggling in the Dragon’s arms grew weaker — while the Damsel and the Dragon Witch watched — the Bard pulled out his ukulele. 

“We’re getting a little too riled up here, eh?” he asked the Thief, who was now hiding his face in his hands, head leant against the Bard’s shoulder. 

“There’s a lot to get riled up over, Denny,” the Thief’s voice was muffled in his hands. 

The Bard tutted and began to play his ukulele. The sound that escaped was smooth, resonating around the room, soothing like calm waves over everyone in the area. It pushed and pulled attention. He didn’t sing, but the ukulele’s tune did its own work, though a soft pink light danced between the strings and the Bard’s fingers. Maybe it was just his painted nails. Maybe it was something else altogether. He hummed along to the tune. 

It was easy to forget the Bard’s healing magic when you weren’t paying attention to him. He swayed side to side as the song loosened the Thief’s shoulders and alleviated the tension behind Janus’ cheek, lifting some of the pain. He waved his hand at Logan and Patton, trying to dissuade worry, but Patton held his hand. 

Patton just held his hand. 

Janus held back. 

Logan stood, reaching down to help pull Janus up as well. Once he was standing, Janus fixed his hat and rubbed the scales by his eye gently. It was going to swell and bruise, but whatever.

In the Dragon’s arms, the Artist’s pushing turned to shaking, body pressed against the Dragon’s broad chest. He rubbed the Artist’s back tenderly before just stranding there, swaying to the Bard’s music as well. He smiled weakly at Janus when they made eye contact. 

Maybe the music wasn’t even magic. Maybe it was just the power of a pause in the action, a break in the narrative, giving everyone a moment to collect their thoughts and feelings. The Artist had even begun to cry. 

The song began to slow, until the Bard plucked the final string. His humming lasted a little longer, but not by much, and he finally gave the Damsel a smile and a wink. 

The Damsel returned the smile warmly. “Thank you, Bard. Your-Your calming nature is always welcomed.”

The Bard attempted a curtsy in his seat, and the Thief snorted at his attempt. “My pleasure, Princey. I hope your eye feels alright, Janey, wouldn’t want that pretty face getting too hurt.”

So forward. But maybe he should expect that from the Bard. He’s not exactly the most subtle one, and he’s often one of the more forgiving, understanding, and kind ones. Janus was still a bit afraid to make eye contact as he stood behind Virgil. 

“I do,” he said, staring at the back of Virgil’s hoodie. “Thank you.”

“This is…fine.”

What?

Janus frowned, turning around. Patton and Logan to his either side, flanking him while Virgil still stood in front. While the threat of the Artist was gone, Virgil still seemed hesitant to let Janus and the other advisors talk face to face. 

“I’m glad,” the Damsel responded. 

His fingers drummed against his cane briefly before he pointed toward the Dragon Witch. “Guinevere. Are you able to take-to take us where you saw the other advisor?” 

“It’s going to work. I trust him. If he thinks it’s going to work, then it’s gonna fucking work.”

Janus turned around again. Someone was talking, almost begging something to be real. It wasn’t. It was a lie. 

He could hear someone lying to themselves, but everyone else was in front of him. It was so loud. They were lying about something very, very big, so big it was echoing. 

“I should be able to, but I don’t know where he lives,” the Dragon Witch explained, still planning with the others. “I can take you to the part of the edge where I saw him.”

Sometimes, he could hear it, when the other Sides told a lie. They were basically incapable of lying to him, he could hear that all the time, but when they were telling huge lies, he could hear it through walls. It was like a beacon drawing him closer. It was something to protect, for him. Something to hide.

He could hear someone lying to themselves. It wasn’t Roman, but it felt like Roman. He didn’t think he could hear the advisors like this, but it had been a long time since he’d been in the Imagination. And if the advisors had a part of Roman’s essence within them, then it stood to reason…

“Roman knows what he’s doing.”

Janus didn’t want to interrupt. He’d caused a lot of problems, and maybe he couldn’t identify them, but he knew they were problems. 

“That’s all we need,” the Damsel murmured. “If we poke around enough, we’re sure to find an-to find an entrance.”

“I hear someone,” Janus whispered, soft enough that only the other Sides around him could hear.

“It’s going to be perfect. This’ll….it’ll fix everything.” 

“What?” Virgil asked. 

“Oh, fuck off,” the Artist scoffed, and the Dragon shushed him harshly.

Janus’ brow furrowed. This plan. The person was trusting Roman and talking about a plan. This had been planned?

“Someone,” his voice was drawn out as he tried to focus on the voice. “Is lying.”

A brief pause floated over the group while they traded looks. Patton was the first to gesture around the room and ask, “Here?” 

Janus shook his head. “No,” he frowned at the ground.

“The kid’ll go away and-and Roman’ll be okay. It’ll be fine. It’ll be better than fine, Roman’ll be that much better. Without. The kid.”

Janus’ eyebrows raised. 

The implications were staggering, and the weight of the lie was getting stronger. Janus might be able to….

“I think the Director is lying to themself,” Janus stated, eyes wide enough to make his bruised one throb. 

“Can you hear it?” Logan asked. After Janus’ ability to hear and appear during heightened deceit was revealed during Roman’s previous breakdown, Logan had wondered how far reaching the ability went, and if it followed into the Imagination. It seemed as though it did. 

Janus nodded, then closed his eyes. He had to focus. 

“We don’t fucking need the kid. We don’t. We don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t fucking need him.”

“I’m going,” Janus muttered. 

Then, he disappeared with a soft popping sound. Virgil flinched, turning around all the way, as if to confirm there was no one behind him now. “JANIE?!” Remus shouted in similar surprise, looking around. 

He hadn’t been very privy to the conversation, it seemed. Patton reached over, the lack of a hand in his making him search for Logan's. Luckily, Logan seemed aware, or at least he didn't seem to mind when Patton latched onto him. Virgil let out a long exhale and when he looked up at the other two, his determined gaze found two of the same.

The Damsel stood. With one hand, he patted Remus’ shoulder, and the other he used to lean on his cane. “We have to-We have to go, too, then,” he said, glancing at the Dragon Witch. “Please take us, Vi.”

“Of course, Prince.”

#more than beliefs #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #tss roman #sanders sides roman #roman sanders #lets fucking gooooooooooo #im finally on chapter 14 and bro its gettin crazy LMAO #GET HIS ASS DAVID GET HIM !!!!

[nonbinaryroyalty43]

Loceit Day 1

Yay, I’m so excited! Loceit Week, here we go! @loceitweek2022

Prompt: Self care

Characters: All Sides, Thomas mentioned

Warnings: Bad self care habits, exhaustion, arguing

Summary: Janus didn’t need to be responsible for everyone else’s wellbeing. Logan just needed to Janus to see that.

________________

It was exhausting.

Janus ran around all day everyday trying to get the other Sides to relax. To convince Virgil Thomas wasn’t going to die, to get Roman to slow down with his ideas, to get Logan away from his work, to keep Patton from hiding his feelings, to help Remus deal with his thoughts.

It took so much time and so much work. Janus didn’t rest and didn’t sleep. Someone was always having an issue, which meant Janus needed to fix it. It was okay because the others were more important. They kept Thomas functioning and that was what mattered, right?

That was why Janus found himself stumbling into his room late one night. He had just managed to convince Virgil to sleep and for once he thought he might actually get to sleep, too. He slipped his shoes off and was just about to slip into bed when a light came on.

He hissed and shielded his eyes. Once he’d had a chance to adjust to the light, he put his hand down and surveyed the room. 

Logan was sitting on the edge of Janus’ bed. Logan being in the room wasn’t all that unusual (they were dating after all) but the fact that Logan was still awake was surprising.

“Who was it this time?” Logan asked softly. Logan hated Janus’ job. Hated that Janus was forced to give up so much in order to keep everyone else going. Hated that he had once been a part of that.

“It’s nothing, Lo. Nothing I can’t handle.” Janus was dead on his feet, swaying slightly.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Logan stood, grabbing Janus and leading him to the bed. He got Janus undressed and laid him under the covers. “You need to rest too.”

“I don’t have time.” Janus’ voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes were already slipping shut. 

“Then I’ll make time.” It was the last thing Janus heard before he fell asleep.

*****

Janus woke up late. It was already lunch time. He dressed quickly and practically ran downstairs, scared of what he might find.

There was no one. A quick search of the house confirmed that everyone was in their rooms. What was going on? It was never this peaceful. Janus was usually woken up at 3 am from sort of noise.

“Jan?”

Janus turned around. There was Logan, fully dressed with a face full of concern.

“Logan. What is going on? Where is everyone? Is everything okay?” The questions were out of his mouth faster than he could think.

“Everyone is fine, Jan,” Logan said soothingly. “We had a talk. Eventually we agreed that some of their problems should be fixed on their own. You are not supposed to be everyone’s keeper. That is not your role in Thomas.”

Logan didn’t mention the arguing he had to get through to get that agreement. Roman and Patton were the most against it, their ignorance making Logan quite angry. Remus and Virgil were the easier ones to convince, given that they’d known Janus the longest.

“I....That’s not true. This is what I’m...” Janus was going to say that this was his job, but was it really? It didn’t feel right. Janus was Deceit, lies and subterfuge. He wasn’t supposed to be the only one worried about self-care.

“You see? There’s more to you than just what you can do for others.” Logan wrapped an arm around Janus’ shoulders, steering him back to his room. “Rest now. I won’t let you sleep too long.”

Janus obeyed, slipping into bed. He grabbed Logan’s arm as he turned to leave. “Stay?”

Logan smiled softly, slipping into bed beside Janus. It was there, wrapped around Logan and more relaxed than he had felt in months, that Janus fell asleep.

#loceitweek2022 #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #all sides involved #janus sanders #loceit #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #day 1 selfcare

[shadow-whisperer152]

Father’s Day (Chapter 7)

(Aaaaaaah this is the chapter I basically formed this entire fic around! Can’t believe this was just meant to be a one shot, yet here we are at chapter 7 (and we aren’t even done yet). Hope you enjoy!)

(Chapter 6)

~Time Skip~ 

Janus could never have fathomed that everything would go so wrong. It felt like only yesterday his boys were bringing half-cooked pancakes to him in bed and cuddling with him under their one soft blanket on the couch. He tried not to think about those days too much; the memories only made the ache in his heart all the more prominent, the cold on his skin all the more biting, the tears down his face all the more sorrowful. It had been a long time since Virgil had disappeared from their lives. For a time, Janus and Remus had been filled with resentment at how Virgil had chosen the others over his own family. Remus had refused to allow Janus to blame himself, begging to be let upstairs to show those impostors even a fraction of the pain and fear they themselves felt. And, like a fool, Janus had let him. He doesn’t understand how he could possibly have been idiotic enough to make the same mistake twice. But back then, he didn’t understand how it was a mistake. Now he knew better. 

Remus had gone up, wreaked havoc, done what Remus does best. And in turn those Sides had greeted him with patience and understanding. It had taken some time, but much too soon he was up there all the time, and then he was never down here at all. Janus wanted to say that the Sides had blinded him, manipulated him, turned him against the only person who could ever love him. But after all this time, he finally understood: he’d been the monster under the stairs the entire time. It wasn’t the other Sides that were the problem: it was him. He was the reason Virgil and Remus had left because he’d been the one imprisoning them. Janus had been so blinded by his own fear that he’d corrupted the two young sides, making them feel like they were monsters too if only to feel less lonely in his misery. The other Sides had greeted his sons with such warmth and acceptance because they deserved it. Janus didn’t. He was different, always had been, always would be. He would never be treated like one of them because ever since his manifestation he’d been the villain, someone to be feared. Every time he went up there he was yelled at and denied and ignored, while his sons got the chance they deserved. Maybe this was how it was meant to be; Janus would spend the rest of his days alone while his sons would live on with their new happy famILY. 

All these negative thoughts and feelings poisoned Janus on the inside. He became a recluse, and stopped answering the other’s calls entirely. He spent his hours trying to squash the useless flicker of hope that still remained, desperately trying to save himself from the pain of being hurt by abandoning the idea that he would ever see his boys again. He didn’t even bother to dress in his usual attire, everything replaced with what he wore as pajamas. Everything except his hat. (He couldn’t bear to part with it, no matter how many times he put it away he’d always end up taking it out again.) Janus would have stayed like this for the rest of eternity if he could’ve. 

Unfortunately, he ran out of tea. 

Now this wasn’t a problem he’d ever had to face. He’d either ask Remus to summon him some, or he’d go to his little garden on Remus' side of the Imagination to pick some tea leaves himself. But Remus wasn’t around anymore, and he couldn’t go into the Imagination without either of the twins finding out. He’d stopped eating or sleeping properly since he’d been left behind he couldn’t remember when, so summoning the tea himself was out of the question. There was only one option left. He had to go up there, to the place he swore he’d never go again. Janus wished he could just go on without tea, drink water or soda or nothing at all. But the warmth of a cup of tea was the only joy he had left in his miserable existence, and without it he might discorporate from sorrow. 

He made a plan. He’d go up to the door underneath the stairs, cross to the kitchen, steal some tea, and run back down. That’s all. He wouldn’t look at anyone, wouldn’t talk to anyone, and if they tried to stop him he’d……he’d……well, hopefully there wouldn’t be anyone there to stop him. He clutched his hat in his hands in an attempt to gather some courage, slowly making his way out of the Dark Side to cross the Subconscious. 

Janus could hear voices. The door was very slightly ajar, and he listened closely. He couldn’t hear exactly what was going on, but they seemed to be whispering. Not just that, but they were at least in the living room. The light in the hallway was off, and so was the one in the kitchen. He could slip through, get his tea, and run back down. Excellent. Janus carefully nudged the door, slipping out and darting across to the kitchen before anyone could see him. He hid behind the counter, heart racing. No screaming, no noise. He hadn’t been spotted. 

Janus slowly stood, backing up until he felt the counter behind him. He turned, snatched the box of tea bags from the cupboard, and creeped back towards the doorway. Halfway home. He stepped out into the hallway again and- 

The lights suddenly turned on, startling him as he whipped towards the living room. Virgil, Remus, Roman, and Logan all sprung up from behind the couch, confetti filling the air. It was only now that Janus noticed the balloons, the table full of food, and the banner strung across the back wall. “Happy Father’s Day!” it read in big bubble letters. Janus stood frozen, mouth opened in a shocked expression. It was Father’s Day already? And……and they were throwing a party? For him? A feeling of warmth, like sticky honey, filled his chest. For the first time in what felt like years he felt a genuine smile spread on his face. He was about to step out of the darkness when a new voice surprised him from atop the stairs. 

“Oh my goodness! Is this all for me?!” Patton ran down the steps, rushing forward. The others all met him in the middle, engulfing him in a big hug. 

“’Course, Pat. We had to celebrate our favorite popstar’s special day after all.” Virgil gave him a crooked smile, nuzzling over his shoulder into his neck. “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.” 

Remus enveloped all the sides in his tentacles, which led to squeals and shrieks of surprise. “Yeah! We’re gonna squeeze you full of joy until your eyes pop out of your head! Happy Daddy’s Day!” He grinned. 

The others spoke as well, and there must have been music, but Janus couldn’t tell. His ears began to ring as he stared at his two sons, the biggest smiles he’d ever seen on their faces as they wrapped themselves further into Patton’s arms. A hiccup made its way out of his mouth, lost under the sound of the other’s chatter. They’d……they’d replaced him. After all he’d done, after all they’d gone through together, they’d found a new father. A good, kind, caring father who could give them everything they’d ever wanted. Janus felt lightheaded, and just like all those years ago, the ground disappeared from under him and he fell, away from the searing warmth and the blinding lights and the hurt hurt hurt hurt that filled his head. He crashed onto the cold, musty floor of the Dark Side and here, where no one could see, where no one would ever see him again, Janus began to wail. His sobs and screams of pain filled the air around him, shaking the Dark Side to its core. He was so ashamed, so destroyed, that he failed to notice he was missing something important.

Upstairs his hat sat surrounded by the discarded tea bags, alone and abandoned in the dark hallway. It wasn’t until hours later, when the food had been eaten and the gifts had been opened, that a figure in purple noticed it lying on the floor.

(It broke my heart to write this one, but it’s going to start looking up for our poor snakey side. Just gotta throw in a little more angst first >:) Hope you enjoyed!)

#tw slight body horror #janus sanders angst #sanders side #patton sanders #virgil sanders #leoni_writes #roman sanders #remus sanders #dark sides #angst #Father's Day

[helloiwantwaffelfries]

A Mistake and a Snake

It had been four days. Four days since Janus had made a mistake that he couldn’t wouldn’t admit to. Four days and the Prince he had insulted hadn’t come out of his room the entire time. Roman hadn’t shown his face the entire time. 

For some reason I knew I had screwed up. Normal the insults I dished out never were mistakes, the insults never cause I... Guilt; after all, I wasn’t getting hurt, so why should he care? Self-preservation stepped on anyone that got in his way, and he didn’t care. But this was something odd. The last time I had insulted Roman to such an existent--So much that I had wanted to apologies, (But never had) had been the ‘mustache incident.’

That had caused a single day of silence from Roman, and five days where he ignored I. It was better than this. Four whole days without any form of communication, and this was from ROMAN. Roman who never shut up unless I made him. Roman who was the EGO, the full extent of pride and ego, part of Thomas that couldn’t SHOULDN’T be ignored. 

It was clear Roman was bruised, and the only way to fix it was to tell him he was ... Sorry. 

Oh this was going to be hard.

I took the long route, and almost didn’t knock.  Then I heard the Lies.

God they were loud. So unnecessarily LOUD. Like thunderclaps in a storm, or hammers pounding on metal bars. They drowned out everything else that I could hear. 

It wasn’t a secret that the Virgil could ‘heard fears’ and that the Duke could hear his own hemisphere, and the thought followed for I could hear lies. 

Roman was DROWNDING in them. 

The EGO was full of self-depreciating lies. I-- I felt bad. That-I wasn’t supposed to care about anyone else. I was Self preservation. I didn’t care about Roman anyone.

‘He’s right.‘

‘They don’t care. They shouldn’t, I... Laughed at Janus’s name, and he was right then. I’m the Villain. I’m the bad creativity, and I’m-‘ It was was to much noise. I couldn’t bear it. But for a new(?) reason. There was something else behind the fact that I needed to stop Thomas’ ego from bruising himself. It wasn’t self-serving. I actually cared... about Roman. Of all sides. The creative prefect prince of dreams and the actor; the good side if there ever was a good side, no, the prefect side. It couldn’t be fair,  how could Roman ever care about ‘a slimy snake‘ when he was the hero. 

‘Janus was right when he said I should have been a dark side. I don’t deserve to be a hero-Because I hurt the ones I love.‘

That was hard to ignore- In fact I couldn’t ignore it. I had snapped at Roman and it had bruised him. I learned a long time ago that words were often worse then swords. They were a poison that made a man destroy himself. and I had given Roman a lethal Dose. 

I could only hope the antidote was enough. 

I barely brushed the door with his glove when it swung open. He almost hit Roman on the nose. But I wasn’t paying attention to that. The prince looked, for back of a better word, like a raging dumpster fire somebody had filled with rotten strawberries and doused in chemicals. The usually well dressed regal prince looked like he lost a fight with Virgil (a racoon) and rolled through Remus’s room while covered in Velcro. Put simply Roman looked like shit.

Roman also immediately tried to close the door on me. resulting in me scuffing my boot. Also now my toe hurt.

“Ow?!“

“Oh-Sorry. I seem to mess everything up.“ Romans usually upturned face and cheerful voice were gone, there were bags under his eyes so harsh that it looked like he was trying to imitate Virgil - without using makeup. 

“God-Roman what is-“ Roman lifted a hand, causing me to slow trail off.

“Stop. I get it. I screwed up, I’m a failure- No more talk. if you don’t mind-“

It took almost every inch of me to stop myself from laughing at the ridiculous statement. A swift flick of the wrist shut Roman up before he could finish,  “Roman, that's not- Well that's kind of why I’m here. Not to insult you however. Care I come in?” Romans face went through several changes, first hopeful, and then a lie pounded into Romans mind, ‘Why would he care? He’s a liar and a monster. Like you.’ I suppressed a hiss at the lie, was that really what everyone thought of him? Romans face fell, and slowly emotion melted away, until it was a blank mask, void of emotion in a way Roman never should be.

 You make it easy to think that way. You enjoy their fear too. Stop lying to yourself about it. You probably won’t change.

But Roman still slowly inched out of the way, giving a small amount of room for me to enter.

After he stepped in Roman swiftly shut the door, and he also immediately spun and looked at me, “Well?”

“I’m- I am... I’m sorry.“ The words left a bitter taste in my mouth, but as he continued the taste disappeared. “I shouldn’t have called you your brother, or a dark side. I shouldn’t have ever insulted you like that and- Honestly-“ That word was even worse to chock out, “I don’t want to hurt you. Or any of the sides.“ The last part was just to save face. I loved insulting Virgil after he betrayed us for the light sides, then again wasn’t I doing the same thing?

“Thanks I-Wait what did you say?“ Roman looked about as confused as I felt. 

“I-“ I could finish the sentence. Because Roman had collapsed. 

I wasn’t big on getting touched, but I still lunged to catch the now asleep prince. Given the dark circles around his eyes, I could assume he just needed sleep, but good God he was heavy. I dragged him over to his bed and kind of let him flop onto it. After making sure he could breath I sat next to the sleeping beauty.

He somehow managed to curl up into a ball, and rest his head on my lap. I couldn’t move, Roman just looked so... peaceful. 

He just ran his hand through Romans hair and let him sleep. “There we go. Just sleep my prince.“

It took four hours, before Roman woke up, and he was extremely flustered. 

“I-Um. Were you sitting there for four hours?“

“No?“

He blinked, clearly skeptical of my tone. I hung my head. Why was it so hard to lie to him? “Yes.”

He sighed, “Well. Um. I haven’t really-”

“Slept? at all?“ I hissed. 

He hung his head, “Well. yeah. but you and Virgil do it all the time.“ 

“I am the incarnation of Deceit, and you think I’m healthy?“

Roman started to say something, but his words were interrupted with a yawn. “I need a nap-another one.“

I immediately stood. “Alright- I should-”

“Wait, can... can you stay? I“ Before Roman could finish I heard another lie, duller, also a fear, but a lie no the less. I was fairly curtain that if Virgil had been hear he would have heard the next statement like a scream. I don’t need him for the nightmares. I can sleep without them.

That somehow changed my mind. It also relieved me a bit, that I wasn’t the only cause of his problems-How can you think that you selfish bastard? He is unable to sleep and it’s a GOOD THING? 

I quickly nodded. “Yes- Of course. If you need.” The words came out annoyingly jumbled, I took a breath, “I can as long as you need.”

He smiled, slowly dragging himself back onto the bed. “Janus? Why did you come?“

I could lie soooo easily, JUST SAY PATTON MADE ME! But an ungodly honestly answered, “I couldn’t let myself lie to you like that. I couldn’t... make myself not care.” 

He blinked, “Why?” Why is he asking such personal questions!

I still answered truthfully. You can make it a lie if he doesn’t feel the same. he’ll believe that more than he would the truth. “I care about you.“

His eyes were wide, and I almost bit my forked tongue off. “You do? Honestly?”

No going back, “Yes.“ I looked away, scared of the rejection I was sure was coming.

I heard Roman rustle on the bed, and then go still, but he didn’t reply, and I wasn’t looking. Until I felt lips brush my cheek, and my eyes flew open.  Roman had-What? WHAT? WHAT?

The idiot had the audacity to pull away and SMILE. I wanted to slap him. Don’t lie. You want to kiss him.

I did, I really did. 

So I returned the favor.

This was a much more effective way of shutting Roman up. 

He let out a sigh, and slow flopped back onto the bed. I hadn’t even realized we had moved. A small part of me was reminded that Roman hadn’t slept in roughly four days. “You need sleep. A lot of it.”

“I don’t want to. I might dream.“ The creative prince looked away for a second, so vulnerable. Any other side I would have insulted of laughed at, something other than say what I spoke to Roman, “I’ll be here to help. The nightmares can’t fight us both.“

He streched, trying to reply but his speech was silenced with a yawn. “Maybe. Are you sure it’s fine?” 

I almost lied. “It’s perfectly fine, Roman.”

The half asleep flirt smirked, “Maybe another kiss would help.“

i wasn’t going to say no, and Roman barely had time to murmur ‘Thank you’ before he was asleep as I pulled back slowly.

All I could do was smile, “You’re not welcome.“ 

#Janus Sanders #roman sanders #self-deprecation #gay #sanders side fic #sanders sides #cussing warning #deciet sanders #roceit #roceit fic

[starshard17]

More brainrot... here we go

For @haysgrove

-----

Virgil stared at the presents under the tree. His eyes shifted to the empty plate and glass on the table.

"He accepted the offering..." Virgil muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing into slits. He had seen the other sides set out the same offering in years before. And none of them were dead so it must have worked for them.

"Hey Tickle Me Emo- WHOA!" Remus yelled, jumping back as Virgil swatted at him.

"REMUS HE WAS HERE LAST NIGHT!" Virgil shouted, gripping Remus' shirt and shaking him back and forth.

"Woah woah, okay calm down! What if he's not real? I mean we saw Janus dressed as Santa Claus. And if he was here he would've gotten caught in one of the many traps I set up. So unless he's some sort of sneaky little bitch, or he's not real, he's in our house right now." Remus explained, shrugging. Virgil went pale. Paler than usual.

"THERE COULD BE A FREAKY MAN IN OUR HOUSE?!" Virgil screamed. Remus snorted.

"There's already one." Remus said, pointing to himself. "Now there could be two."

Virgil looked as if he could burst into tears. He slipped down to the floor, gripping Remus' clothes the whole way down. Remus shook his head.

"Come on. Let's go find Santa. And while we're at it we'll find Janus too!" Remus cheered, leaning down and carefully lifting Virgil up from the floor. He held the emo like a little cat and started his trek around the house to see if a mysterious man set off any of his traps.

---

"REMUS? VIRGIL? BOYS?!" Janus yelled from the basement, trying to reach up to untie the rope that had grabbed his foot. He had managed to step over it while setting out the presents but as he was moving to grab the last few he had forgotten all about it. And it had caught his foot. And he'd been dangling upside down for a good six hours. He was feeling nauseous and he'd been yelling all night in hope that one of them would hear him. He waited and waited and no one came to his rescue.

That was until he heard footsteps traversing down the stairs.

"Boys!!" Janus yelled, hoping that was who was walking down the stairs.

"Oh my god Janus!" Virgil exclaimed, scrambling out of Remus' arms and running over to him.

"What are you doing in my Santa trap?" Remus asked, untying the rope, causing him to fall and hit his head on the basement floor.

"Ouch! I uh... Santa Trap?" Janus asked, rubbing his head. Remus nodded as he watched Virgil kneel beside their parental figure.

"Yeah. Didn't want Virge freaking out if an old man broke into our house so I set up things around the house to keep him away from us." Remus said. "How'd you get stuck in one?"

"Merry Christmas..." Janus grumbled, standing himself up and moving over to the last two presents waiting in the basement. He brought them over to Remus and Virgil and watched as their faces twisted in confusion.

"This paper looks just like the wrapping on the ones upstairs." Virgil mumbled. He took the box and looked at Janus' face.

"Well no kidding. I put the presents there." Janus said, crossing his arms. "Even wrapped them myself.

"You. YOU'RE SANTA AREN'T YOU! THAT'S WHY YOU WERE IN THE TRAP!" Remus yelled, summoning his morningstar.

"To a certain extent." Janus said, raising a hand in defense. "I Thought it was fun to watch you boys scramble and yell about why you hate Santa so much but after hanging upside down for six whole hours I think I'd prefer that you know that Santa Claus is in fact, not real. No more traps, no more worrying. Please just go open your goddamm presents." Janus groaned, moving up to the living room.

Remus and Virgil looked at each other then up at the stairs.

"Santa's not real. No one broke into our house." Virgil mumbled. "Thank God!" The emo exclaimed, running up the stairs. Remus followed close behind him.

As they got to the top of the stairs they looked and saw Janus sitting on the couch, rubbing his head.

"Sorry for getting you stuck in my trap." Remus mumbled, sitting on the floor beside him and resting his head on Janus' knee. Virgil sat beside Remus, leaning onto Janus' other knee.

"Sorry for being so paranoid." Virgil muttered, looking up at Janus.

"Oh boys. Don't apologize. Just never ever set up traps to catch a fictional man ever again. Please." Janus spoke, setting his hands on their heads.

"Now how about you open those presents that I got for you. It was a lot of work to get them set under that tree. Much more work than it needed to be." Janus grumbled, ruffling his boys hair. They both smiled and nodded, moving up onto the couch and hugging Janus tightly before they moved over to the tree.

"Merry Christmas you two." Janus said with a smile.

#moonblade writing #sanders sides #ts janus #ts remus #ts virgil #i just cannot write anything for these three without it turning into Jamus being their father.. #I love them so much #happy holdiays btw!! 💚💛💜

[creativia10]

First Halloween with the Ghost Boyfriend

Virgil is excited for Halloween. He is hoping to spend a good one in his new relationship that includes ghost roommate Logan.

Relationships: romantic Analogical, romantic LAMP, background Dukeceit

Wordcount: 1517

Warnings: I'm not sure if this is mcd for a ghost fic, Logan is dead (this is pretty much fluff though)

Notes: Tuliptober Prompt 30-Oneshots continued

Recursive of Halloween Ghost au. Where the relationships are reversed with who is dating a ghost. Yes I know for the series this is a recursive of, this is a sequel. I plan to write recursive of the first ghost fic, that one is just longer than this one. I think the Halloween fluff can still be appreciated though. Please let me know if you have any questions.

Based on @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors Ghost au

Virgil loved Halloween. Anyone who knew him knew this. It was the holiday he expressed the most enthusiasm for. Remus was a fan of Halloween as well. Although his interest seemed to lie more with the gruesome elements.

Virgil wasn’t sure how Logan would react to Halloween though.

“Hey, Virgil,” said Remus, “We’re short on candy again.”

Virgil restrained a laugh. “Logan!”

Logan popped into existence next to Virgil. Logan cleared his throat and straightened himself as though to maintain some dignity. As though they couldn’t see the evidence of his candy consumption on his face. Not to mention his pockets bulging with squirreled-away wrappers.

“I bought you your own bag, you know,” Virgil said. Okay, he was definitely failing to hide his amusement.

Logan huffed. “I ran out.” He crossed his arms. “And, I haven’t eaten sweets in centuries. Surely it makes sense I’d be curious about the consumption again. I’ve gone so long without anything like it. I think I’m allowed.”

“Are you pulling the ‘I’m dead’ card, to get away with away with stuff, now?” Virgil asked.

Logan scoffed. “Get away with? I am not a child. I don’t need to ‘get away’ with anything. It’s perfectly fine.”

And with that, he stepped forward and looped his arms around Virgil’s neck.

Virgil sighed. “You can’t always get your way just by being my super sexy boyfriend, either.”

Logan smirked at that and hmmed. “We’ll see.”

Remus snickered and shook his head. “Alright. Can I get some help assembling this skele spook?”

It was a small animatronic skeleton. Virgil went over to Remus and helped him untangle the wire guts from Remus’s fingers. Then they made an effort to carry it onto the porch. Before they could though, Logan sighed and flicked his fingers to set the Skele floating.

Janus came out to join them as he did. Janus huffed and gave Logan a look.

“You can’t just levitate the skeleton decoration, Logan.”

“Why not?”

Janus put his hands on his hips. “Why do you think?” He gestured to the way the skeleton appeared to be floating.

“It’s Halloween,” said Logan. He flicked his hands again to drop the thing into Remus’s arms. “People will assume it’s part of a performance.”

Janus just looked at Logan for a moment.

“Logan, it’s a floating skeleton. In broad daylight, with no visible possibilities for rigging, and no audience. Does that sound believable as a mere magic trick?”

Logan hmphed and grumbled something.

Janus claimed he tagged along with Remus for Halloween to reign his boyfriend in from anything too chaotic. But Virgil was pretty sure Janus was just as into the spooky holiday. Janus had a flair for the dramatic, of course he would love a holiday where he could dress up extravagantly.

They all got into their costumes as it got closer to evening time. Remus was a zombie, of course. Very fitting for his style. Virgil and Janus had fought before over who would get to dress as a vampire, as they didn’t want to both be vampires. Virgil had ended up relenting, letting Janus be the vampire this year. Virgil dressed as a purple color schemed demon. He thought this was just as cool anyways. Logan flickered and shifted into his most dated outfit. He let himself have a faint silver sheen that was passable as pearlescent makeup.

Remus shook his head. “That’s almost cheating, you know, to go as a ghost.”

Logan merely shrugged. “I don’t feel inclined to put in any more effort for a frivolous holiday. I’m not sure I could do much else anyways.”

Not that they had really tried.

Logan had been a bit unclear on how he felt about the spooky holiday. He seemed to maintain some level of enjoyment in Virgil’s excitement at least. Yet he didn’t say whether he liked the holiday himself.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Whatever. We should head downstairs. There’ll be trick-or-treaters coming to the door soon.”

Remus snickered, “Don’t get too distracted by sucking face!”

Logan and Virgil both sputtered as the other couple headed down and left them. Virgil flipped the bird at the other couple, a bit delayed. Logan covered his mouth to laugh a little. Then he cleared his throat and shuffled a bit.

“Your, uh, costume looks very nice dear.”

Virgil smiled at him. “Thanks.” He put his hands on Logan’s shoulders.

“In a sexy way?”

Logan’s eyes widened and he stuttered. “Uh, well, is that what you were going for? Uh, I mean,”

Virgil laughed a little and shook his head. “It’s fine, L. I want to look good for my boyfriend.”

Logan smiled at him, and they both leaned forward for a kiss.

They heard a dramatic gasp behind them. Virgil turned to give Roman an amused smile.

“You are starting kissing without me!” Roman dramatically proclaimed, wearing his Phantom of the Opera getup. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t intentional. Didn’t know how long your highness would take to get ready anyways.”

Roman scoffed. “I’m not a prince this year!”

“For once,” Virgil mumbled with a smirk. Roman flicked Virgil in retaliation. “Just for that, Logan gets my kisses first.”

“Wha-hey, I’m not saying anything untrue.”

Logan was laughing when Roman went in for a kiss. Roman sighed but he was smiling.

“I suppose that will do for now.”

Patton joined them, in his great pumpkin costume, giggling.

“Alright,” Logan said, “Let’s get down already. Kids could be waiting, and I want to be ready to impress them for Virgil’s sake.”

Never mind nobody had actually asked Logan to do that. Although Virgil had his own suspicions about Logan’s motives. He was looking forward to seeing Logan in action though. As soon as Virgil finished getting his costume together, Logan vanished.

“Come on now!”

Virgil heard Logan’s voice halfway down the stairs to the living room.

“I’m coming, I’m coming Lo! Relax!” Virgil laughed as he hurried to keep up with him. He was ready to get the satisfaction of winning the bet against Roman. On how much Logan was actually into  Halloween. Roman had doubted it.

The first sign, to Virgil, had been after they had watched Monster house together. Logan hadn’t expressed a clear opinion on it. But Virgil had caught Logan trying to imitate the tricks he saw the house doing for two weeks. Logan claimed it was more of a scientific curiosity. If you could even call using ghost powers as scientific in any way. When the doorbell rang for the first time of the night, Logan flickered and appeared across the room. He lifted the bowl and answered the door. Virgil saw that grin though.

“Trick-or-treat!” A bunch of kids chimed. Virgil and Remus settled in behind Logan. (There was only so much space in front of the doorway after all.) Now they would get to see Logan’s show.

Logan held out the bowl. As the children reached for the bowl, a chill filled the air around them. Virgil shivered. Cloudy breaths puffed out from the children in front of them. The house groaned ominously. The lighting grew darker suddenly. All this added to a more menacing atmosphere.

The children gasped and chattered excitedly amongst themselves.

“Nice surround sound!” One of the older ones said, who was in some sort of elf costume. Virgil bit his lips, but a small hum of a laugh still seeped out. No one seemed to pay it any mind though.

“What are you, Mister?” said a little mermaid.

“I’m a ghost,” Logan said. His lips twitched into a smile as his eyes twinkled. “I died in this very house.”

“Cool!” said a Frankenstein’s monster. Janus barely managed to pull Remus away, into the kitchen, before Remus howled with laughter. The children grabbed big handfuls of candy. Logan snuck another one into his mouth before he shut the door.

“Wow,” Virgil drawled. But he was smiling. Logan shrugged with a smirk.

“I mean, it’s true. It’s nice to be able to say so without people thinking I’m insane.”

Remus returned, still with tears in his eyes from the laughter. Janus followed him with an exasperated look.

They took turns with who stood by the door and who got to spook the kids. Although notably, Logan always added something to the general spooky effect. They also alternated between refilling the candy and stealing from said candy bowl. As it got darker trick-or-treaters trickled in less. So they switched to scarier Halloween movies. The quaple took up the couch. Janus and Remus squeezed into a nearby armchair. Many of them were nodding off later in the night.

“Good Halloween?” Virgil asked Logan softly with a peck to the cheek. Logan hmmed and leaned into Virgil.

“Rather so. Excellent even. I enjoyed myself.”

Virgil grinned.

“We can go more all out next year though,” Logan said.

“…Is that for my sake?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged.

“This house is actually haunted. We should totally own this neighborhood on the spookiness.”

Virgil giggled and turned the volume down. He wondered whether he should wake Roman to get his bet winnings.

#Tuliptober2022 #sanders sides #ts virgil #ts logan #analogical

[djpurple3]

heartbreak and healing - a sanders sides fic

ship: royality characters: Roman (main), Patton, Virgil, Remus, Janus, Logan, c!Thomas content: magical style semi-terminal illness (sort of like hanahaki), mild body horror, food, light swearing, angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, tensions, kissing, mild suicidal ideations (more lack of selfcare / apathy), discussions of death, close encounter with death. wordcount 17,520 words .........lot longer than intended LMAO

A/N: do people write royality anymore? no clue. i had this idea and it took me two weeks to write this when i orignally thought it was gonna be like 5k words and would take me one sitting. i never learn.

Anyhoo, head the warnings, this can get heavy, but it has a sickeningly sweet ending. I finished this at 1:30am so hopefully it’s coherent all the way through. semi-edited. cant think of anyone to tag so i wont lmao

--- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---  

Roman’s shaking a little. He is shaking but he folds his arms over his chest and raises his chin anyway, glaring down his shirtless reflection and pressing his arms against himself tight, like it would bind him back together.

But no. The cracks are still there. …Cracks. Cracks. Like a porcelain doll. Etching out like a spiderweb, like a broken mirror, from his heart. Roman tears his eyes away from the deep red fissures and stares himself in the eye.

There’s an answer to the number of questions in here, pinging around his skull like popcorn. There’s an answer he doesn’t like but has to face is true.

He… Well, it’s hard to put into words, really. But…

His arms fall to his sides, and he traces the tallest crack with a fingertip, feeling how it hurts a little to press down, tracing it even though it only travels about an inch and a half up his chest, snaking off towards his right collarbone by the time it hits his sternum. It’s red, but barely so. When Roman first noticed them, he almost thought they were black.

When Roman had first noticed them, they’d been hairline fractures. He had panicked, and after spending an hour fretting and prodding and poking in front of the mirror, had gone to bed with the hope that he could sleep it off.

But things were starting to add up, now. Because they had only formed after… after the wedding. They had only formed after Roman had gone down in the hallway from a shock of grief so palpable it soared straight over emotion and landed firmly in pain had lanced through his chest.

Roman presses the pads of his fingers over his heart and feels how it hurts, trying to fight down his grimace. Curse him. Curse his imaginary form and how his creative status took euphemism and metaphor takes things so literally. His heart has broken, it seems, and it is now tearing him apart.

Roman lets his hand fall, debating covering it with foundation or something, before there’s a knock at his door.

“Roman,” comes Virgil’s voice. “There’s waffles up for grabs, if you want.”

“I’ll be right down,” Roman calls back, turning away from the mirror and fumbling for his undershirt.

“Want me to wait, or…?”

“No, no. Go get a headstart.”

Virgil’s footsteps shuffle away from the door hesitantly. Roman pulls on his shirt and grimaces again at how he can feel the slight way the cracks make his skin tug in weird ways as his muscles move.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman comes downstairs when he is fully and immaculately dressed. It takes a while to lace his boots, it always does, but he likes them too much to leave style by the wayside. But by the time he comes downstairs, everyone is there. And nowadays, he means everyone.

Virgil is sitting at the dinner table with two plates in front of him. One is empty, and the other has three waffles on it, while the communal help-yourself plate is empty too. It seems Virgil grabbed some for him before they disappeared, which is nice of him. Logan sits at the opposite end of the table, alone, frowning down at his phone as he cleans up the last of his own waffles which must have been appropriately drowned in crofters. Remus is sitting on the couch – upside down, feet hanging over the back of the couch and kind-of in Virgil’s face (and clearly on purpose), but he’s watching… some cartoon or other. Roman can’t be bothered to check.

And Patton and Janus are in the kitchen. They’re in the kitchen, cleaning up batter and bowls and laughing to each other. Patton’s face is lit up with laughter, probably from a joke Roman didn’t hear, and Janus’ eyes are glittering with mirth, and both look far more light-hearted than Roman’s seen in a long time.

The cracks throb and ache a little at that, but it’s not enough to throw Roman off his paces. Not yet, at least.

The laughter immediately quiets as he walks in, though. Patton’s eyes lock with his for only a second before his grin drops into a polite smile that grates to see, and a silence falls across the room.

Roman realises he’s just kind of standing there, and winces. He doesn’t say anything. He just drops his head and hurries over to the seat Virgil’s pulling out for him to take. No grand entrance, no declarations, no songs, no quips. Roman has learnt over the years to read the room, and he can well tell that it is not a room welcome to such antics anymore.

Or at least; as his eyes flick up at the sound of quiet humming, and sees Patton shoot a smile at Janus, who’s started humming… god, is that Phantom? under his breath; such antics aren’t welcome from him anymore.

Roman clears his plate without really realising it, and he eats them dry. No sauces or toppings or anything. He’s a little more on autopilot than he’d like to admit, and Virgil seems to be taking notice.

“You alright?”

“Just dandy,” Roman shoots back, smiling a little at his own subtle gay joke, before setting his cutlery down on the plate in front of him.

“You seem out of it.”

“Accidentally stayed up late,” Roman says automatically, punctuating it with a shrug. “Got a new project, it’s kind of stressing me out.”

Janus’ eyes flick to him, almost imperceptibly. It’s not a lie, Roman chants in his head. Or perhaps more accurately, it’s enough of the truth for now.

“…Need help?”

“No.” Roman reaches over and slides Virgil’s used plate towards himself and stacks it under his own. “But I’ll let you know if I do down the line.”

That is a lie. They all know him well enough to know it, too. Virgil sees it for what it actually is, though – an end to the conversation – and he shrugs and goes back to his phone too.

Roman gets up and makes his way around the table. He pauses at Logan’s elbow, waiting until the other side acknowledges him, before quietly holding out one hand, balancing the plates in the other.

Logan blinks for a moment, before handing over his own plate. He doesn’t thank Roman as the prince takes it. That’s okay. Roman’s not hunting for it. He just adds it to the stack and walks on eggshells all the way into the kitchen, where the fun conversation quiets down with every step closer he takes.

He hates this. He hates that it went this far. He hates that he’s done this to the people he loves. And he hates how it’s all his fault.

That thought is not a new one, really, but it brings around a new effect. His heart aches, sharp and hot, a new pain that stabs right through him and makes him stumble. Stumble straight into the wall. And he drops the plates.

Smash.

He didn’t mean to.

He didn’t mean to.

Roman needs to move, to clean this up, to fix it, but all that is going through him in this moment in time, enough to blind out the pain, is that he didn’t mean to.

There are curses shouted around the room, mostly from people scared by the sudden noise, but Roman is just staring down at the most recent pile of mistakes, the newest thing he’s destroyed by laying his hands on, and-

Is someone calling his name?

He only snaps to when someone all but elbows him out of the way. He stumbles backwards even more, hand latching to his sash (totally not over his heart) as the elbower manages to hit him right where it hurts.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and realises it’s Logan who’s elbowed him aside, looking sour. “I was… I…”

“Would you at least mind moving from standing in it?” Logan orders him sharply, and Roman does his best to leap backwards like he’s been stung.

“It was an accident,” Roman is still talking. “I didn’t mean to, I was only trying to help.”

“And clearly, it has gone the same way your help usually goes,” Logan says, sharp and to the point as he crouches down to start picking the larger pieces out of the mess to put into a rubbish bag Patton’s holding open for him. “Surely one would learn to keep their nose out of it by now.”

Roman’s eyes widen. He fights to try and defend himself but no words come. The room finds a way to be even more silent, until Logan finally looks at him, with a bitter glare.

“Why don’t you keep out of the way,” he snaps, “while we fix your mistakes again?”

Roman’s grip over his heart tightens because oh, that hurt. That hurt so bad, it hurt bad enough that it’s stabbing, and he can’t breathe and he’s pretty sure he can feel the cracks widening without having to see it.

He takes one step back. Then another. Patton is staring at Logan, mouth open, and those are the only two in Roman’s tunnel vision at the moment.

Roman does not stay to hear what Patton will say. He couldn’t take it, not from him.

He doesn’t even bother to go for the stairs. He sinks out on the spot, hoping he doesn’t look too much like a wounded animal as he goes.

--- --- --- --- ---  

“You can’t say that,” Patton finally manages to break the shocked silence of the kitchen. “You… that was cruel, Logan.”

“It was true,” Logan grouses, turning back to the pile.

“Get up,” Virgil says gruffly, and suddenly he’s standing behind Logan, face stormy. “I’ll finish this.”

“No, it’s fine-”

“It’s clearly not. Get up, and either go apologise or have a fucking nap. I don’t care, just don’t pull that stunt again.”

Logan stands before Virgil makes him (because he has that look about him) and tries to swallow his anger.

“I’m sorry,” he says formally, swallowing hard and adjusting his tie. “I… I have not slept very well this past week and my patience seems to be growing thin.”

Virgil shoots him a hard look. Patton swallows. Janus has moved to stand beside Patton in the kitchen doorway, leaning on the doorframe with a similarly hard look on his face. Remus is watching from over the edge of the couch with something far too interested for Logan’s liking.

“Go sleep,” Patton nods to the stairs. “We’ll… let’s deal with this tonight. You’ve clearly woken up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“My bed is pressed up against two walls, I can only get out of one side of it, there is no wrong side-”

“It’s an expression,” Janus cuts in before Logan can continue, and Logan is left to shake his head and all but storm away as everyone else watches, and slowly, the mess gets cleared up.

As Virgil stands, stepping back so Janus can vacuum, Patton catches his arm and pulls him aside.

“Can you… check on Roman?” Patton asks him, and Virgil studies his face. Patton was always pretty good at hiding his emotions, more than they ever really realised, but the way his eyes are shining with something grieving finally sways him. It’s clear he doesn’t know if he should do check on Roman himself – and doesn’t even know if he wants to, but despite everything, he’s still worried about the prince.

“Okay,” Virgil agrees, choosing not to have a go at him. “I might give him a little time, though. I don’t think he wants to see anyone right now.”

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman makes it to his room, and his back thumps against the door as he gasps for air. By the gods, that hurt. It hurts so bad. He fumbles to get his layers off and staggers over to the dresser again to realise with hitching breaths that it wasn’t just him feeling things.

The cracks are bigger. And they’ve solidified into a wine red. The more horizontal cracks have begun to reach around his ribs and he might yet wake up to find them on his back tomorrow.

He makes it to his bed and sits, falls backward and pants at the ceiling. This is the worst it’s felt yet, and Roman thinks he can see the pattern now.

It has to be heartbreak. The thing that makes this worse is the grief over hearing and knowing and processing his myriad of mistakes. And it’s probably only going to go downhill from here.

He presses his hand lightly over his heart again and thinks about Logan’s words. It hurts, everything throbs as he reflects, but he makes himself reflect because Logan is right. And Logan’s been very patient with him in the past. They were just plates, sure, but it was clearly the last straw.

I’ll eat separately from now on, maybe, he thinks to himself. So I don’t have to risk upsetting Logan like that again.

It will probably be better for them all all-round. He’s not as stupid as they all think. He can take a cue, and he can play his role accordingly.

The… the transformation, the whatever it is, has left him exhausted. Roman manages to crawl into bed, he flicks his wrist to magic off his boots because he doesn’t have it in him to do it for real, and he pulls the covers up over his shoulders right up to his chin and rolls over, all but passing out.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Virgil knocks lightly on his door an hour later, calling his name. He sticks his head in the room and his expression softens when he sees Roman sleeping. He flicks the light out and carefully closes the door.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman wakes up in less pain than he fell asleep in, which is nice. A quick glance at his clock tells him it’s the same day – though barely, as it’s now about quarter to midnight, and the thing that actually woke him is not chest pains but hunger pains.

Roman sits up, the blankets sliding off his bare chest, and he blinks twice as he could swear his new afflictions are… glowing? It dies away pretty quick, if it is. It’s a trick of the light if it isn’t. The light is low, so that’s possible, even though Roman doesn’t remember turning them off himself. But still. He changes into his pyjamas, pausing in front of the mirror to make sure everything’s covered, before shuffling to his door.

The house is pretty quiet when he emerges into the corridor. He leaves his door ajar and wanders down the hall and down the stairs. The TV is on and Patton is asleep in front of it. It looks like he was supposed to be waiting up for someone, but took an impromptu nap. Roman grasps the banister as he quickly has to wonder if he’s waiting for him.

What does he want? To console him? To tell him Logan was wrong? Or, what is more likely, that Logan was right?

Sure, he’ll probably tell him that Logan was too harsh, but…

Roman shake his head and manages to sneak past. He has too many feelings about Patton to sort out, and waking him now would not help.

He steals his way into the kitchen and stands there for a moment with hands on his hips, trying to figure out what to do. He combs the fridge and finds leftovers from what they must have eaten tonight, and he can recognise Logan’s cooking when he sees it.

Maybe Logan’s remorseful. Maybe Roman’s on his first strike. Roman takes it and a fork and sits at the table, and eats as quietly as he can. Patton stirs but does not wake.

“Oh.”

Roman flinches, almost drops his fork, but saves himself last-minute even as the snappy movements make his chest ache.

He looks up and sees Janus at the top of the stairs, face unreadable, and Roman flushes before he can try and scrape together a poker face.

“You…” Janus trails off, his voice also low so as not to disturb Patton, “…made quite the spectacle, earlier.”

Roman swallows hard, sets his fork down, and chooses his words carefully.

“It won’t happen again.”

Janus descends the last of the stairs and closes the distance until the only thing separating them is the table.

“Why’d you drop the plates?”

“Dizzy spell,” Roman lies. It’s compulsive, and again, close enough to the truth that it will do, “I’ve been getting them a lot lately. I’ll be more careful.”

He doesn’t really want to tell Janus what’s up. He doesn’t want to tell the guy who… doesn’t… like him? Roman has to assume he doesn’t. Despite what he really wants, Janus’ actions have been clear, he mustn’t like Roman. But Janus is now studying him with something in his eyes that almost looks soft. It might even be pity.

“You do that,” he agrees. “And if you find the time to tell the truth some time, we’re here for that too.”

Roman’s hands tighten on the table, and he can only look away.

“I need to understand what’s happening first,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, and can’t meet Janus’ eyes. After all this time, after everything, the most agonizing thing about this is the honesty, but if it gets Janus off his back, then it gets him off his back. “I… I don’t want to hurt everyone any more.”

He stands, and he can’t look at Janus. It hurts too much, he can’t breathe past the lump in his throat, and the subtle feeling of something prickling even further across his skin. He almost rubs over his heart, but manages to keep his hands still. He can’t give the game away so soon.

Janus folds his arms, and studies Roman. “You have people who want to help you,” he points out, and raises an eyebrow as Roman shakes his head.

“Goodnight, Janus,” he says, and skirts both the table and him and makes for the stairs.

“Aren’t you going to finish your food?”

“I’m not hungry,” he lies one last time for the night. “Goodnight.”

Janus watches him go, before slowly turning to clear Roman’s mess up behind him.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman stays up til 4am, sleeps a little more, wakes up at 10am and bides his time until he can strike the least busy sweet-spot between breakfast and lunch to approach the kitchen. He feels ragged and hopes he doesn’t look it, but it’s so much effort to get into his normal outfit that he nearly doesn’t.

He must be deteriorating faster than he expected.

Roman magicks his clothes so they slide onto his limbs by themselves and makes his way downstairs. The only people there are Virgil and Logan, sitting on the couch and discussing the thing they’re watching. It looks to be a deep space documentary.

Roman tries to sneak down the stairs as quietly as he can but they hear him pretty quick. Virgil shoots him a sympathetic look that says talk later, and Logan’s is… fragile, to say the least.

Roman offers them a stiff nod and hurries into the kitchen to make a sandwich or something.

He stands there and eats, vaguely out of sight, and debates sinking out from here. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even realise the others have already closed the distance, and Logan only gets his attention by clearing his throat.

Logan’s in the doorway now, only a couple metres away from where Roman has been leaning against the fridge. He jumps, clutching at his heart over his shirt as the lurch hurts, before putting on a smile as he gathers himself.

“Hello,” he says.

“Hello,” Logan shoots back, and he’s toeing the ground like an anxious teenager. “Roman, about yesterday-”

“I’m not mad,” Roman launches out, not meaning to, but the words have left his mouth before he can think.

Logan looks up, and grimaces a little. “I… You have every right to be. I was in a foul mood, and you did not deserve to be the recipient of that.”

Roman shrugs, and takes another bite of his sandwich. He hates how closely the two of them are watching him. It makes his skin crawl, and his skin’s taking enough abuse as is.

“I get it,” he says eventually. “Hell, it’d be hypocritical if I said I didn’t forgive you.”

Logan looks at him funny. Roman finishes his sandwich, swallows, and tucks his hands behind his back as he stands up straight.

“Thank you for your apology,” he says formally. “But it’s not warranted.”

They’re looking at him funny. He doesn’t understand why. Logan was right, of course, yesterday. He’s just trying to actually begin to take accountability for his mistakes.

“And I’ll make sure something like that doesn’t happen again,” Roman smiles; all teeth and nothing happy.

“I…” Logan looks baffled, like Roman’s thrown him for a loop.

Why isn’t it working? It’s supposed to be working. He’s supposed to be working to fix this all.

It’s beginning to dawn on Roman that… maybe he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he hopes Logan knows he means it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I would like to get back to work.”

Virgil tries to catch his arm on his way past. Roman manages to slip his way out of it and shoot him a friendly smile as he disappears up the stairs.

He makes it back to his room before the floodgates open.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman is woken by knocks on the door. It is now late afternoon, almost four o’clock, and he’s accidentally fallen asleep at his desk. He doesn’t understand why he’s sleeping so much. This ailment must be taking it out of him.

The knocks come again, and Roman gets to his feet and goes to answer the door.

It’s Patton.

Patton!

He hasn’t spoken to Patton one-on-one in a very long time. Since before the wedding, maybe even before the trial. For someone so near and dear to his heart, Patton has been drifting away from Roman for a very long time, and Roman’s a little afraid of what might happen now with him so close.

He has never really gotten over Patton.

Patton’s eyes search his face, before he smiles gently, in that way that’s not been directed at Roman in months. “Hey, Roman,” he says softly. “Can I come in?”

Roman’s hand shoots up to lean on the doorframe.

“I just want to talk,” Patton says. “Not even about anything in particular, if you don’t want. I guess I realised we… haven’t caught up in a while.”

For a reason, I’m sure.

Roman’s chest aches. He shouldn’t, but he’s always been weak for Patton. He steps back, steps aside, and lets Patton in.

Patton closes the door behind him as Roman pads across the room to sit on his bed. He gestures for Patton to take the chair, but Patton hesitates, crosses the room, and lingers over him.

“Can I sit next to you?”

Roman looks down, before looking back up at Patton and smiling. “If you want.”

It hurts. Not literally, not this time, not yet. It hurts because he is so close to the person he loves so deeply and has hurt so much. Patton deserves better. Patton deserves someone who won’t hurt him. Someone like-

Roman grasps at his chest before he can even think about hiding it, gasping sharp and high as the cracks run deeper. Patton kneels in front of him, taking the hand gripping his own knee and calling his name, asking if he’s alright.

Roman grits his teeth and tries to pull through it, riding out the wave and trying his best not to concern Patton too much. Patton cares so much, too much, too much for his own good.

Eventually, he can straighten up, breathe deep, and meet Patton in the eye.

The wide look of concern there almost breaks him again.

“Oh, hon, are you okay?”

Hon.

“I’m fine,” Roman lies, quick as you please, and smiles despite himself. “I… I think I’ve just been… sick, recently.”

“Can I help?” Patton’s eyes are liquidy and earnest. Roman is overcome with an instinct, and instinct he’s had a few times but only ever acted on once – one Christmas years ago when the two of them were younger and bumbling and unafraid of their feelings and trying each other on for size.

But no, he can’t do that now. Especially when Janus is such a better choice for Patton now than Roman could ever be.

“No,” Roman says, his words wandering out from his lips before he can think them through, and his honesty cuts them both right to the quick. “I don’t think you can.”

Goddammit. Roman can’t tell the truth when he wants to, and can’t lie when he needs to. Patton’s face falls, and he slowly shifts from kneeling in front of Roman to sitting beside him. Roman feels  how the bed dips under Patton’s weight.

“It looks like it hurts,” he says softly.

Understatement of the century.

“I guess I’m just having some heart problems,” Roman half-laughs. “I’m figuring it out.”

He does have some running theories. Patton doesn’t look convinced.

“Look, Logan said he apologised to you,” he starts, and Roman nods along. “But both him and Virgil are worried because you, well, they said you… took it weird.”

Roman shrugs. “I mean…” he quickly trails off before he says what he actually thinks, but he’s clearly said too much as it is.

Patton takes a sharp breath in, one that Roman feels lance through his own chest, before a gentle hand cups his jaw and turns his head back to meet Patton’s eyes.

“You don’t think you deserve it, do you?” Patton asks, plain and simple, voice cracking.

Roman’s lip wobbles. It’d be so easy to lie, but he’s so sick of it by now. And part of him wants to just let it spill to him, let it all spill, but he can’t afford that, not now, not after everything, because maybe Patton doesn’t even remember that one night when they decided to see what the fuss about mistletoe even was.

He can’t put words together. Any words, truth or lie. His eyes probably say enough, though, enough to make Patton’s own expression crumble.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, and pulls Roman into a gentle hug. “Honey, no.”

Roman’s hands have shot into the air, hovering over Patton’s sides but not touching because it’s been so long since he’s been hugged that it almost feels like he’s forgotten what the protocol is. And he doesn’t know whether he’s allowed to touch Patton or not.

But Patton’s breathing hitches, and Roman feels his lips move against his own throat.

“Please,” Patton begs him. “Please hug me back.”

…How could Roman deny him that?

He does. He wraps his arms around Patton as tightly as he dares and enjoys the hug for what it’s worth. He might not get one of these again, especially not from Patton, especially when Patton finally realises that he really isn’t going to be worth all the work that it’s going to take to piece this broken prince of his back together again.

Roman’s got a couple running theories about his condition now.

The first, of course, is that it’s heartbreak. Something metaphorical that has inflicted itself so very thoroughly across and into his skin like a brand, like a punishment. Thomas is broken up over many things right now, Roman is too, and maybe like his ego, which bruises, Thomas’ subconscious is giving it form.

On the other hand, perhaps it’s rot. Maybe he’s rotting away from the inside, because finally his core, the very heart of his function, has finally given out from the weight of the shit Roman keeps doing and doing, against the nature of what he should be for his family. For Thomas.

Maybe this was always set to happen, from the moment Janus put on Patton’s smile.

Dammit, he has always been so weak for Patton’s smile.

Roman’s hands tighten on Patton’s shirt as new, fresh pain lances through him. This time, he might be crying.

Patton’s arms tighten around him, and even though it doubles the agony, Roman doesn’t tell  him to stop. He’s been hungry for this. He’s been missing Patton so badly.

“What helps?” Patton’s lips are still ghosting his throat. “What helps make the pain go away?”

“…Sleep,” Roman shrugs. As best as he can tell, it’s sleep.

“Do… do you want to have a sleepover? Like old times? Build a pillow fort? I can do most the building.”

“…Not today,” Roman whispers, but he’s so touched, he’s so touched Patton’s offered, that Patton’s remembered.

Though honestly, what is he on about? He’s Patton. He never forgets.

Patton ends up trying to help him get ready for bed. Roman is greedy, he’s so greedy, he feels like he’s just lapping up the attention like a kicked puppy, but he can’t help himself. It’s only when Patton quietly asks if he needs help getting changed or not that he’s jolted back to the moment.

“Oh, no,” he smiles far too broadly and flicks his wrist, and his clothes change into his pyjamas seamlessly. It takes energy, it takes more and more energy to do quick changes and stuff like that now, but right now he hasn’t got a choice.

“Okay,” Patton says, but his eyes are shining with something a little hurt, like he’s upset that Roman’s not letting him in.

Oh, no. Roman can’t. He can’t ever do that again. Because the last time he let Patton bear the full force of his emotions, it almost destroyed them both. No, he’s keeping Patton safe this way.

Patton insists on tucking him in, though, helps him lay back and arranges pillows and blankets for him. Fussing. He’s worried. Roman smiles up at him in a lame attempt to try and assuage his fears.

Patton smiles down at him too, before leaning down and pressing a quick little kiss into his hair.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” he tells Roman as he straightens up, before crossing the room and pausing in the doorway. “G’night, Roman.”

“…G’night.”

Patton flicks off the light and closes the door.

Roman pulls the covers over his head and tries to use them to muffle his tears as his chest stabs with hurt again.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman’s reached a point where it might not be getting worse anymore. Maybe it’s just plateaued, and it can get worse. Or maybe this is it, this is just his state now. The cracks are wide now, maybe a half-inch on average, and over his heart, it is ruptured like a centrepoint. Roman was right about a glow. Now the cracks are bigger, he can see that the red in there isn’t just wine-dark but a shifting nebula of molten reds and hints of gold. Sometimes he swears it pulses in time with his heartbeat.

He's just glad it doesn’t show through his clothes.

Roman really doesn’t have the energy he used to, either, nowadays. He has migrated to wearing simpler clothing. A week or two in, he’d swapped back to his old outfit because it was easier to get on and off. A month or two later, now he’s just wearing… clothes.

Comfort over style, nowadays. He can’t even bend over to lace up his boots anymore. He even wears slippers sometimes instead of real shoes.

The others have noticed, of course. They aren’t stupid. He has just had to quietly say it’s health complications and handwave as many comments and questions as possible.

Thomas summoned him once in this state. He was visibly shaken, and Roman could only laugh ever so quietly.

“I… were you serious about the world outgrowing princes?” Thomas asks him seriously, eyes shining. God, he can really see where Patton shines through.

“Oh, this?” Roman looks down at his baggy clothing and sighs. “This isn’t me abandoning that, as such. I just…” He shrugs limply. “I’m not well.”

“Not… well? That can happen?”

“I guess so,” Roman shrugs again, and folds his arms across his chest. “It’s… I don’t think this sort of thing’s quite happened before, but we’re figuring it out.”

“Are the others helping you?”

“Yes.” Oh, that’s bold. Lying straight to his centre’s face. Still, the others would help if he asked, have offered, even, but Roman doesn’t even know how to fix it, let alone what they can do about it.

“It’s, uh,” Thomas shifts on his feet. “Not a ‘bruised ego’ thing again, is it? I could understand if it is.”

Roman rubs his arms and tries not to clutch his shirt over his heart. “Not really,” he says softly. “But it might be of a… similar vein.”

“Is there anything I can do, then?” Thomas is so earnest, he steps towards Roman, and Roman’s so afraid as to what might happen if he gets any closer.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I just…”

He presses his hands against his eyes and debates, debates talking, debates telling someone his feelings for once.

“It hurts so much,” he’s speaking before he can make up his mind as to whether he should. “It… it’s so draining. And I think it’s…”

He clamps his lips shut and turns away, already mad that he’s said so much. But Thomas closes in, takes his hand and gets Roman to look at him again.

“Please,” he says, so softly. “Roman, talk to me.”

“It always gets worse when I am reminded of my mistakes,” Roman blurts, eyes suddenly stinging with tears that desperately want to escape. “It hurts so much to accept them, even though that’s what’s needed from me.”

“What’s needed?” Thomas echoes, worried.

“If I can’t accept and improve, then… then everything I do, for you and for them, is pointless. How can you be expected to overcome new trials and adversities when I can’t learn from our past?”

“You sound like you’re in it alone,” Thomas points out, clasping Roman’s hand firmly. “And I can tell you without a doubt that I’ve had a very similar talk with Patton. And… there are people who understand this, Roman, and people who want to help you. And I’m one of those people.”

You shouldn’t.

“I can do it on my own.”

“But you said it hurts. …Maybe you need a hand?”

Roman pulls his hand away from Thomas, despite how much it pains him. “You don’t understand how broken this all is,” he says, painfully honest. “You don’t understand how broken I am. I can try to improve but I… I don’t think I can change.”

“You already have,” Thomas replies, eyes sad. “And I promise you a lot of it is for the better. I’m sorry your introspection is so painful. It usually is very easy to turn into self-loathing, too.”

Roman flushes, and shakes his head, not because Thomas is wrong, but because he’s too right.

“I…” he swallows hard. “I have to go.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Roman,” Thomas tells him as he pulls away again. “I want to help you if I can.”

“I know,” Roman mumbles.

“I love you,” Thomas then follows it up, perfectly earnest and honest. “I value you so much, there’s no one else who can do what you do, Roman.”

Roman doesn’t reply. He can hardly hear over all the thoughts swirling in his head that say otherwise as he sinks out.

--- --- --- --- ---  

It hurts. It hurts so bad. Roman makes the mistake of rising up in the hallway outside his room instead of in his room, and he wraps his arms around his chest as he stumbles towards his door, trying not to whimper.

There’s someone on the stairs. As he shoulders open his bedroom door, he hears someone call his name.

Roman staggers in through the door as it swings open under his bodyweight and the follow-through sends him sprawled out on the floor, head spinning under a crush of white noise as his body rebels against him. He swears he can taste blood.

“Roman?”

Someone’s in his doorway, and curses as he curls in on himself, outwardly crying from pure pain alone for the first time. Roman has a pretty high pain tolerance, when all is said and done. But he’s so tired, he’s so worn down, and this blow is new and fresh and hurts more than anything else so far, and he’s raw and hurting from the belief that he can’t trust anyone with this.

He’s alone. He’s alone, and he might be dying.

Hands. Hands on his side, on his shoulder, carefully easing him upright. Roman curls into the person with a gasp as he rides out the wave, somehow finding the wherewithal to flush with embarrassment in the middle of that even as another pair of arms wrap around him.

The smell is what’s telling. It’s a bad smell. It’s Remus.

Roman lets his brother hold him, not understanding why, and then Remus is moving, and suddenly Roman’s been picked up.

“Shit,” he finally hears Remus say. “Should you be this light?”

“I’m not well,” Roman says faintly.

“Yeah, duh.”

Remus is moving. The world is a bit of a blur still but Roman realises as he’s lowered onto familiar softness that Remus has put him down on his bed. Roman closes his eyes and tries to gather himself as Remus drags his deskchair over and parks up at his bedside.

“Are you dying?” Remus asks him, voice oddly serious, and Roman’s eyes snap open and they finally make eye contact.

Remus looks… shaken. Maybe his intrusive thoughts are running wild after finding his brother sobbing on the floor. Understandable.

Roman wets his lips and hesitates. “…Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t know!” Roman eases himself into a sitting position and Remus is quick to adjust pillows for him so he has support. “I… I don’t know.”

Remus is staring at him, in that unnervingly close way that always gives the impression he’s trying to analyse his bone structure or something.

“What’s that?” he finally says, leaning over and touching something on Roman’s collarbone.

Roman knows without looking, judging by the familiar way it hurts when Remus’ finger presses.

“Ah,” he says. “I didn’t realise it had spread that much.”

“Spread?”

Remus tugs the neck of Roman’s shirt down a little, and makes a choked noise at the realisation that this mark keeps going down.

“I…” Roman bats his hand away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m worried,” Remus snaps back. “I’m worrying about it. Roman, you’re clearly in pain.”

“You love it when I’m in pain.”

“No, I love it when I’m causing you pain. And you know that what I do isn’t permanent. That’s half the point.”

Roman has teared up a little at that. It’s a semi-fucked up Remus way of admitting he cares about his brother.

“Show me,” Remus says, and he’s grabbed the bottom hem of Roman’s shirt.

“No,” Roman tries to bat his hands away again.

“Show me!”

“Stop trying to care!” Roman finally succeeds in hitting his hands away, and Remus looks wounded. “You… what’s with you? You haven’t cared about me, and given my current developments, you shouldn’t either.”

“What, I should love you because you’re dying?”

“No! You shouldn’t love me because I’m a horrible person! And I’m only getting worse!” Roman glares at his brother through tears that started falling without his permission. “What’s so hard to understand about this?”

Remus looks stumped. He slumps back in his seat, hands in his lap, looking like Roman just kicked him in the stomach.

“…I’m a horrible person, too,” he finally whispers. “Because I have been the biggest dick to my brother all the while he’s suffering.”

“I… Suffering’s just part of being me,” Roman says limply with a shrug that hurts and tugs in a number of weird and bad-feeling ways. “You… you haven’t.”

“Careful, there,” Remus tries to joke. “All that edge and you’ll summon our emo.”

His eyes are usually bright, and his heart isn’t in the joke. Roman sighs, he feels really tired all of a sudden. A thought rears its head – something he hasn’t considered but is inspired by what Thomas said to him. It usually is very easy to turn into self-loathing, too.

Is this self-inflicted? Is he that much of a bleeding heart?

“You…” Remus reaches out and hesitates before his touches his brother’s arm, like he’s not sure where to put his hands to make sure he doesn’t hurt Roman. “Please, can I help? Can I see?”

“I don’t know what you can do to help,” Roman says softly. “But…”

He shakes his head and sighs. “Fine.”

Remus has to help him take off his shirt, and as more and more is revealed, until the shirt hits the floor and Roman braces himself on the bed, not meeting Remus’ eyes.

“Holy shit,” Remus says.

Roman sits up, swings himself upright and gets to his feet, despite Remus trying to keep him down. He staggers over to his dresser and pauses in front of the mirror, before taking it all it.

It’s… worse. His breath stops in his throat as he just tries to comprehend what has happened to his body. It’s almost like the time he broke his mirror, but… it’s him. His torso is an intricate weaving of rich red cracks, and he twists despite the ache to check his back and sees it covers that too. He runs a hand over the base of his throat, noting that the cracks are even beginning to reach that high. Onto his shoulders, too. No more tank tops, then. He shies down the top of his pyjama pants just over one hip to see if it stretches down, and… yeah, it’s beginning to spread down to his thighs as well.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Fuck,” Remus echoes. His brother gets up and comes over, crowds his space and carefully, carefully, puts a hand on his back. Roman’s too tired to flinch.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah.” This far in, there’s no point in lying.

“This is… Roman, this is fucked. You… we need to tell everyone.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic?!” Remus grabs him by the shoulders and turns him so Roman has to face him and look his brother in the eye. “I’m sorry, dramatic? Roman, look at you! The only one being dramatic here is you trying to wallow!”

“I’m not wallowing,” Roman swallows hard. “I’ve… I’ve earned this. This is my burden to bear.”

“Earned…” Remus lets him go and staggers backwards, ending up in the chair again. He’s rubbing his forehead, bewildered and pained. “What have they done to you?”

“I did this to myself,” Roman shrugs, baring his arms. “I… This is my punishment.”

“For what? Being you?”

“I suppose it must be.”

Remus pauses as Roman says that, and looks up again, eyes glinting with unshed tears.

“I mean,” Roman laughs, tilting his head back and reaching up to massage at his temple. “What else have I done?”

The sound of crying hits Roman first, and then Remus does second, squarely and in the jaw. Roman staggers with a cry – though it’s nothing compared to the agony he’s been living in for the past month. Next, as he’s trying to gain his balance again, Remus latches on in a huge hug as he proceeds to sob into Roman’s shoulder.

His arms are tight around Roman’s torso. It hurts and comforts in equal amounts. Roman does not tell him to stop.

Roman hugs him back, letting Remus grieve.

Then, “why’d you punch me?”

“Because you’re a fucking idiot, and I love you,” Remus mumbles back. His moustache prickles against Roman’s bare skin. “A-and I didn’t mean to, it just happened, I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Roman accepts that as it is, and lets Remus hang on for dear life.

--- --- --- --- ---  

It takes a long time to convince Remus to leave. He doesn’t want to, of course, and the look in his eye tells Roman he’s afraid that he will come back tomorrow and find his brother in pieces on the floor.

Roman’s afraid that Remus is going to kick down everyone’s doors and spill the beans on what a weak person he is. And weak is the word for it, because when Roman wakes the next day, he can barely sit up.

He’s still not wearing a shirt. Must’ve passed out without one. He forces himself to summon one onto himself, rather than go through the agony of trying to get one over his head manually. The room swims as the energy drains.

This is bad.

Roman can’t sit up. He can barely keep his eyes open. It feels like it’s been forever and like it’s hit him all at once at the same time.

He wishes it would end. He’s beginning to not care how that end comes about.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Remus is in the kitchen, which is odd, because he’s banned from the kitchen, and he usually respects that because it’s more trouble than it’s worth for him otherwise. But Patton comes downstairs that morning to the cacophony of clattering dishes and the smell of something burning, and no, no, no, no, no! And he has to pause at the foot of the stairs and watch Remus panic, trying to gather his bearings as he hears the sound of scraping against the bottom of a frying pan.

He steps on the squeaky stair as he dismounts the staircase, and Remus’ head snaps up. Patton takes a hasty step back when he realises that Remus is in tears.

“Help me,” Remus begs, and Patton is lost for words. “Please. I’ve… I-I…”

Remus is clearly on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Patton hurries over before anything more can go wrong, and the first thing he does is turn off the stovetop and help him scrape it all clean.

“I…” Remus is scraping his failed attempt of pancake batter into the bin upon Patton’s direction. “I know I’m not supposed to be in here, but I wanted to make Roman breakfast.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Patton says politely.

“I can’t cook,” Remus mumbles.

“It’s okay,” Patton smiles. “I’ll help you. It’s a nice surprise for Roman.”

“I’m trying to help him,” Remus looks like he has to talk or he’ll explode. “He… he’s not well!”

“I know,” Patton hums, turning away with a clean bowl to start making a new batch.

“No, you don’t understand,” Remus grabs Patton by the shoulder, eyes wild as he turns Patton around. “He… h-he! Fuck, he didn’t want me to say. He’s such an idiot. He might be dying and he doesn’t want me to say.”

Might be dying. Might be dying?

“What?”

Remus’ face crumples. His hands are shaking. Patton pulls him into a hug and lets Remus cling to him, staring into space as the duke starts to cry in earnest.

When Remus has cried himself out a bit more, only then does Patton dare to ask. He wets his lips and quietly raises the question.

“W-what do you mean by …dying?”

Remus goes tense in his arms.

“I…” Remus pulls back and runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it, it looks like he’s falling apart, and I mean that literally.”

Patton frowns, unable to imagine it, but the look on Remus’ face – pure distress – is enough to get him to not question him on that front any further.

“I…” Remus’ eyes are roaming the room, like he just can’t stop talking. “Yesterday, he was so weak. I don’t know what he’ll be like today. I don’t know if he can climb stairs anymore. I want to help him but I don’t know how.”

“Does…” Patton searches for a person, any person, the right person to name here. He’s also trying not to feel insulted that Roman never actually told him. “Does Thomas know?”

“Whatever it is only got worse after he came back from talking with Thomas,” Remus shrugs wildly. “I don’t think so. I think I’m the only one who’s seen it. I…”

He claps his hand over his mouth and shakes his head.

Patton turns away and wordlessly keeps making pancakes.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Virgil comes downstairs next, surprisingly, and Patton hands him the bowl with the rest of the batter and leaves him in charge, following Remus up the stairs with a platter of breakfast to take to Roman’s room.

Remus helped, not with the cooking, but with laying all the plates and cups and such out for him. Patton follows the duke up the stairs with bated breath, letting Remus knock on Roman’s door and enter first.

“We made you breakfast,” he hears Remus say as he rushes to his brother’s bedside, leaving Patton to elbow the door open a little wider.

“Who’s we?”  he hears Roman ask, before choking on his own breath as Patton enters. He’s quietly quite sad that that’s the reaction he gives Roman, but he bundles that up and carries the tray over to Roman’s bed.

And fuck, Remus is right. Roman looks like he’s withering away there on the bedsheets. Pale as anything and there’s no life in those eyes of his.

There’s something weird on his skin, like a thin black line, creeping up over his collarbones. He can see it over the top of Roman’s shirt.

Patton sets the tray down gently on Roman’s lap after Remus helps to get him into a sitting position, propped up and comforted by pillows.

Patton sets the tray down in front of him, and before he can’t help himself.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Both Creativities look at him wide-eyed. Patton looks up and tries to smile but he’s tearing up too much to get his point across.

“I… I care about you too much to lose you, Roman.”

Roman looks terrified. And then he turns to Remus and snaps, “what did you say?”

“I-!” Remus looks like he’s been slapped. “You really expect me to keep a secret?”

“Fuck,” Roman grumbles, and makes no move to touch his food.

“Roman,” Patton has cupped Roman’s jaw before he can think – he has a lot of emotions bundled away he’s been working through over the months, but despite himself one of the oldest and most consistent has been loving Roman despite everything that has happened; despite what Roman must think of him – and he’s turned Roman’s head to meet his eyes. “I… I need you to be honest with me. I need you to tell me if I can help you. And I don’t mean fix you. You are deserving of help, whether or not you believe you are broken.”

Roman’s eyes are wide, and his breath is hitching.

“I’ve seen how you hurt,” Patton continues, unable to take his hand away but sitting on the bed, trying to be close to him. “Please… Roman.”

“I can’t,” Roman’s lower lip is wobbling. “I… Patton, you haven’t seen me. It’s too much work.”

“Not to me.” Patton speaks without thinking. “Not if it’s you.”

Roman bursts into tears.

Patton quickly passes off the tray of food before scooting in even closer, letting Roman fall against him and curl in. His body shakes, and Roman’s hot to the touch, almost feverish. Patton carefully wraps his arms around Roman, trying to be ever so gentle.

Remus is hovering, and Patton shoots him a pained look, and the duke slowly backs away and sits down at Roman’s desk.

“I just…” Roman shakes his head. “I don’t want to keep hurting you. I don’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“All that pressure, over the years, it was me, Patton. I should have given you space, I should have left you be, I should have-”

“I would have been worse off for being alone,” Patton cuts him off, his grip tightening without meaning to as he even dares to imagine it. “You know me, Ro. I couldn’t stand it.”

Roman’s shaking his head.

“How much have you been lying to yourself?” Patton’s continuing, he’s still talking even though this might ruin them more. “How much to you have to deny yourself before you allow us to help you? Roman, I can’t take seeing this. I can’t take seeing you hurt.”

Roman pulls back – or he tries to, but he’s so weak he can’t force his own way out of Patton’s arms. Patton gets the hint, though, and lets him go willingly. Roman doesn’t shove him away. He instead carefully takes Patton’s hand in his own, and puts it over his heart.

Patton desperately tries not to put too much weight on it, just in case.

“Huh,” Roman says, quietly to himself. “That… doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.���

Patton’s hand flexes a little as he processes that statement. Then he looks up, his brown eyes wide and watery.

“Let me see,” he says.

“Patton, it’s-”

“Let me see.”

There are footsteps out in the hall. It seems their arguing has drawn a crowd. Virgil appears in the doorway, eyes wide, eyeshadow dark, taking in the scene.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, voice urgent.

“Nothing,” Roman says, lying through his teeth.

“Everything,” Patton says at the same time. “But Roman’s gonna tell us how we can help, right?”

“I-!” Roman’s gone even paler.

Remus clears his throat pointedly, making his brother look over.

“If you don’t spill the beans, I will,” he says, casually and conversationally, but very clearly a threat.

Roman starts crying, but it’s dead silent. His eyes flick around the room at the gathered crowd, and his breath hitches as Logan and Janus appear over Virgil’s shoulders.

“It’s a whole party, huh?” he wheezes, trying to laugh even though tears are running down his face hot and fast. “I… Well, I suppose you all deserve to know, in case this goes where I assume this is going.”

Patton’s hand over his heart tightens just a little at that, but otherwise, Patton manages not to react.

Roman put his hand over Patton’s and squeezes lightly.

“Help me sit up,” he says, “and help me take off my shirt.”

Patton does as he is bidden, Remus jumping up to help as the others enter the room properly, and tries to ignore how much the prince’s voice is shaking.

Roman wheezes a little as Patton helps negotiate him out of his sleepshirt, and Patton’s hands start shaking as more and more damage is revealed.

By the time Roman’s shirt hits the floor again, Patton can barely bring himself to lay hands on his friend. How could he? The agony that Roman has been in is spelled out plain and simple through his skin.

“Oh shit,” someone says. “Shit, Roman!”

Roman’s shoulders are shaking. “Do you understand?” he breaks his silence. He reaches out as much as he can, and Patton gives him his hand in an instant.  “Do you understand why I didn’t say anything?”

“How did it get this bad?” Patton squeezes his hand and tries not to cry himself – though the wetness on his face tells him he’s failed.

There’s someone beside him, now. Everyone’s crowded around. Ah, it’s Logan, and he kneels down beside the bed and takes Roman’s other hand, which had been resting on his stomach, and carefully starts examining the cracks.

“Does it hurt?”

Roman wets his lips, and seems to be debating telling the truth. He ends up locking eyes with Patton, and he swallows.

“Yes,” he says. “Very much so. Especially when they widen. But it hasn’t done that dramatically for a while.”

Remus clears his throat.

“Well, I talked to Thomas yesterday, and that was the worst one, but I don’t think there’s going to be much left in me, to be frank.”

“Do you know the cause of this?” Logan’s voice is fragile. “And can we fix it?”

“I think…” Roman trails off, shakes his head, and smiles. “I don’t think I can be fixed.”

Logan’s grip on his hand tightens. Virgil comes and sits on the end of the bed, and Janus stands over him.

“The cause,” Janus prompts, obviously not missing how Roman didn’t answer the question. “Do you know it?”

“I…” Roman looks like he wants to disappear. “I have… ideas, but nothing certain.”

“Thomas’ creativity does tend to take metaphors quite literally,” Logan glances at Janus, at Virgil, at Patton, and at Remus as Remus comes over to really close the ring. “I… like bruised ego, for instance. But it’s not that, is it?”

Roman shakes his head, slowly, painfully.

“Heartbreak, I think,” is all he says.

Heartbreak.

Patton has to look away.

“Heartbreak,” Virgil echoes.

“It’s just a theory,” Roman shrugs, despite how it must hurt. “Other idea is my own body’s shutting down against me because I’ve betrayed my purpose by hurting Thomas and getting in the way of his dreams and this is my punishment for it.”

Roman then blinks, like he didn’t mean to say all that out loud.

Everyone’s staring at him.

He wets his lips, and tries to go on damage control.

“I, uh, of course, it could be-”

Virgil’s hand on his knee cuts him off.

“Do you actually believe that?”

Roman blinks at him, almost bewildered. It is answer enough for the room.

He feels the energy shift. The room feels all but frigid. Roman yawns, wide and half-teary, and wonders briefly over whether going to sleep now will mean he wakes up tomorrow at all.

There’s a hand on his face, the coldness of the hand jolting his eyes open, and he realises it’s Logan, guiding him to make eye contact.

“The day you dropped the plates,” he says, low and urgent, “was that this?”

“It wasn’t the start of this,” Roman shrugs again. “But… it was when the cracks started to widen, yes.”

“Did I cause it?”

“You? No. It…”

“Tell the truth, Roman. I can take it if it means we can save you.”

“But why?” Roman shakes his head. “You can fill my role.”

“We can’t,” Logan says earnestly, and glances around the room in a panic. “We can’t.”

“We can’t,” Patton agrees, pressing Roman’s hand to his lips frantically, trying to find some way to prove his care, to be even closer.

“We can’t,” Virgil enforces. “Thomas would never do anything, ever, because he’d have no motivation.”

“He’d never sing again,” Janus follows up, his voice surprisingly urgent. “He’d never sing, he’d never act, he’d never write or even organise the fridge in order of colour again. He’d never sling around another nickname, he’d… Roman, surely you must realise to some degree how integral you are?”

“He’s got another creativity,” Roman sighs.

“And you think I could be anything like you?” Remus demands. “I’m insulted. I don’t want to be like you, I want to have you. Because then I don’t have to fill a void knowing for the rest of our sorry lives that if I’d acted faster, I’d still have a brother.”

Roman’s shaking his head.

“Do you really think you get to shirk your duties like this?” Janus says, and it seems to be the wrong thing because Roman twists away and rips his hand out of Patton’s grip to cover his mouth, and they all have to watch in horror as the cracks somehow manage to widen.

Roman goes limp on the bed, and pants.

“I just think,” he gasps for air, “that you all will be better off without the dead weight.”

It’s a poor choice of words, and Logan and Virgil seem to be in tears now.

“Get Thomas,” Patton says, voice calm and even.

“No,” Roman’s eyes shoot open.

“Get Thomas!” Patton turns to Janus, who looks pale, but nods once and sinks out.

“I can’t let him see me like this!” Roman has sat up somehow, clawing at Patton until Patton gives him his hands to clutch. “I-I can’t let him know I’ve failed!”

Janus rises back up into the room with a woozy Thomas clinging to his arm. Thomas looks around with a worried expression and a question on his lips until he sees Roman.

“Oh my god,” Thomas stumbles over and Logan gets out of the way so Thomas can take his place. “Roman! You said you were ill.”

“I am,” Roman half-smiles.

“Don’t pull this on me now,” Thomas puts a very careful hand on Roman’s chest and winces in sympathy as Roman hisses, almost like he can feel it too. “Oh, oh, that makes so much more sense now.”

Roman’s lip is wobbling. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I… I had my suspicions, especially after our talk. But… oh, Roman. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.”

“Very kind of you to send me off into that goodnight so quietly.”

“Where’s your rage, then, Roman? You aren’t supposed to go quietly! You’re…” Thomas has started crying too, hell, everyone in the room has by now. “I was supposed to fight for you, bud. I’m so sorry. I failed you.”

“I should have been flexible for you,” Roman whispers, taking Thomas’s hand and fiddling with it, looking at it and not his centre’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not in your nature,” Thomas whispers back. “You’re one-natured, and I’m not. I should have seen how you both were hurting. It was just…”

“You don’t have to say it,” Roman rests his head against Thomas’ arm. “I was glad you helped Patton first. I would have insisted on it if you didn’t.”

Patton claps his hands over his mouth and tries not to be horrified. Thomas had been very patient and they had worked through their feelings about the wedding together. Janus had been very helpful, too, actually. But if he’d known Roman was dying of a broken heart…

Was it destined? If it hadn’t been Roman, would it have been him?

“I have to learn,” Roman says, so tired, so tired. “Or I have to go.”

“You have learnt,” Thomas reminds him, so carefully, so gently. “Clearly, or you wouldn’t accept this lying down.”

“I haven’t got a choice otherwise at the moment, Thomas.”

“You know what I mean, you asshole.”

Roman laughs, even though it takes it all out of him. He falls still, and closes his eyes against Thomas with a sigh.

“I’m tired,” he says. His voice is so small.

“I know,” Thomas half-laughs himself. He reaches around Roman and pulls him in closer, letting Roman cuddle into his side as he sits on the bed next to him. “You can rest, bud. You’ve done so good.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Janus blurted. “I-I didn’t mean it.”

Roman’s eyes wander open, and he regards Janus with a curious look. “It’s okay if you did,” he replies, and Janus’ face crumples even more.

“It’s not,” Janus shoots back.

“You don’t have to feel bad about telling the truth just because I look like this.”

“Is that how much you’ve been lying to yourself?” Janus steps closer, now moving past Patton. “That you’ve convinced yourself every cruel thing we’ve said about you is true? People get angry, sometimes, Roman, and people say things they don’t actually mean. I would think you know this better than us all.”

Roman’s head falls back against Thomas, who shoots Janus a look that asks be careful.

“I do.”

Janus takes off his hat and rakes a hand through his hair, letting his hat disappear with a flick of his wrist as he picks his words carefully.

“Then you should know that I… I was just frustrated, and trying to get under your skin. I didn’t realise how successful I had been. I didn’t mean to isolate you. I-I… I didn’t…”

Janus presses his hands to his face and steps back. Roman watches him carefully, but closes his eyes and smiles. “Thank you,” he says.

Janus steps back and kicks himself about that that seems to be enough to make Roman content. He’s not crying. He’s not. He’s really not.

Someone leads him away.

Roman noses a little into Thomas’ side.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“So am I,” Thomas replies. “I don’t want to hear you apologising, Roman. I don’t think a single moment of this has been your fault.”

Roman makes a sound that tells them all he doesn’t believe that, but lets it slide. Thomas yawns as Roman’s eyes slump. It is late, Patton supposes, even as he dares to take Roman’s hand again.

Roman opens one eye a crack and smiles at him.

“I want to talk to you,” Patton tells him quietly, hyperaware of everyone in the room hearing his words. “I wanna talk to you alone. There’s something I think we need to talk about.”

Roman looks… accepting, even if he doesn’t look thrilled. Thomas shoots him a look of his own but doesn’t say anything.

Roman doesn’t respond to his name after another half-minute. He’s fallen asleep. Thomas settles in beside him and is unwilling to move – even at the warning that spending a whole night in his mindscape probably isn’t going to be good for him.

Thomas is unwilling leave, even suggests moving Roman, but is eventually convinced to go sleep. In the end, everyone splits off to sleep. Patton promises he’s going to return to his own room after checking on Roman one last time, but in reality he makes a comfortable bundle of blankets on the floor and burrows in.

Somehow, he finds enough of a moment of peace to slip into sleep himself.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman wakes up during the night. He brute-forces his way into a sitting position and notices with surprise that Patton is asleep in on a makeshift pile of bedding on the floor beside him.

His door opens a crack, and he sees the glint of light reflecting off someone’s eye. That someone takes a sharp breath in at realising that Roman’s up, and Roman sighs.

“Come in,” he calls quietly. “And don’t wake Patton.”

The door opens, and Virgil slips in the gap, socked feet silent against the carpet. He pads across the room, making a beeline for the bed, and steps over Patton carefully.

He sits down and stares Roman in the eye. Roman notices he’s been crying.

At first, Virgil doesn’t say anything. He just grabs Roman as carefully as he can manage (although Virgil’s affection has always been a little rougher than most, but that’s okay), and tugs him into a hug, burying his face in Roman’s neck.

Roman slings his arms around Virgil’s hips and sighs, patting the small of Virgil’s back lightly.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone.”

Roman shakes his head.

“Like, I get it,” Virgil counters himself quickly. “And god, I probably wouldn’t have, in your shoes, but also fuck, that’s so stupid, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to add any more stress,” Roman shrugs. “You’ve seen what every single group meal has looked like for the past month, V. It just… seemed like more trouble than it was worth.”

“Worth your life? I don’t think there’s enough trouble in the world to be worth dunking that.”

“Right.”

Virgil grits his teeth at that passive response. Clearly he wants to (lovingly) raise his voice, but they promised not to wake Patton. Instead, he pulls back and looks Roman in the eye.

“Ro, are we friends?”

Roman blinks at the question, and panic floods through him. “…I thought so? If it’s still in the air, then yes, I consider you a dear friend, b-but-!”

“Wait, shit, okay, I didn’t mean it like that. I consider you…” Virgil lowers his voice even more, glancing towards Patton in an attempt to make sure he was still asleep. “I consider you one of, if not my best friend, especially at the moment. What with… everything that’s happened.”

“I’m amazed you even want to talk to me, after everything that’s happened.”

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” Virgil shakes his head. “Roman, if there’s one thing you have made very damn clear over these weeks is that you are aware that change is needed, and I have seen you change. I don’t know if I like how much of you I’ve seen go down the drain, because you think you can’t be yourself.”

“Being myself got us into this mess, Virge,” Roman says tiredly. “After fives years, something’s gotta crack.”

“Don’t say crack,” Virgil snaps, not out of anger but just out of stress. “I swear to god, Roman, don’t say crack.”

Roman laughs, tiny and pained, but a laugh none the less.

“You aren’t the sole problem here,” Virgil repeats himself, wondering when it’s going to sink in. “You have to realise that on some level. Because god, Roman? I’ve been there. And sure I wasn’t being physically torn apart over it but I get that you want the suffering to end, but there’s more than one way to get there.”

Roman raises a hand between them and waits for Virgil to take it, trying to ignore how much he’s shaking. Virgil does, takes it in an instant, and he is steady, if not a little clammy.

“But the problem is…” Roman starts, hesitant, but one glance at Virgil gives him the courage to finish his thought, “what if I can’t be fixed? What if I am doomed? I… I don’t want to get my own hopes up again. I can’t do that to myself twice.”

Virgil rubs his thumb across Roman’s knuckles a couple times as he chooses his words. “You keep talking,” he says, low and gravelly, “about being fixed. Roman, …e-even if this is… it, you don’t deserve to go out suffering and alone. You deserve help and love and care purely because you are real and living and here, and part of our family, not just because you are in pain. I refuse to think we can’t help you. I refuse to think that we lose you like this, but… if we do, you’re not going out by yourself. I can promise you that.”

Roman was already on the brink of tears – he has been for days – and that is enough for him to start gently weeping. He leans forward, and Virgil gets the hint and wraps his arms around the prince. The grip is firm and it hurts a little but Roman’s glad, he’s glad because it makes him feel solid and real, it makes him feel like he isn’t going to break, it…

It makes him feel loved.

God, he’s so tired. But for once, he feels warm. It doesn’t hurt as bad. He slumps against Virgil a little and lets his head fall into the crook of Virgil’s neck.

“Tired?”

“Mm,” he hums, eyes closing. “M’sorry. It just... hits pretty fast.”

“It’s okay,” Virgil says, and he swears he hears Virgil’s voice crack, swears he feels something wet drop onto his hair, but he’s too tired to accuse him of anything. “Can I stay?”

“Yeah,” Roman mumbles, head spinning a little as Virgil helps him lay back down. Normally, he’d be cursing himself out for being so weak. But he’s just a little taken with how warm he’s feeling right now.

For once, he’s not afraid of falling asleep.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Virgil sleeps propped up against the side of Roman’s bed, and he sleeps fitfully. So that way, he’s awake when Patton rouses himself. Patton doesn’t look that well-rested either, but he lifts his head and fixes his bleary eyes on Virgil, and blinks slowly, before smiling.

“Morning,” he says, voice kind of gravelly from sleep.

“Morning,” Virgil mumbles back. “Sorry, I just had to make sure he was… okay.”

“Mm,” Patton agrees, sitting up and stretching. Then, after a moment, he scoots out of the blankets, grabs the top-most once, and scoots over to Virgil, sitting side by side so he can sling the blanket around both of them. “Me too.”

Virgil is tense for a moment, but it doesn’t take long for him to relax, and a word or two of consent has him resting his head on Patton’s shoulder, melting into the other. Patton hums again. He seems exhausted.

He has vague memories of seeing Virgil and Roman talking in the dead of night. But Patton quietly realised that was a private conversation, and drifted back to sleep while he was still in its clutches. He’s curious, of course. He wants to know what they talked about, but he has to know it’s not his business.

Virgil sighs, and Patton rests his head against Virgil’s as anxiety starts quietly crying. Everyone’s been crying a lot lately. But god, it’s so much to process.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Patton says, in a voice so firm that it surprises both of them.

“I hope so,” Virgil murmurs back. “He… he’s not convinced. Or, he might be a little more convinced now.”

“That’s good,” Patton says, ignoring the ache in his own chest. It’s nothing physical, not like Roman. He just wants him to be healthy, to be alright, wants him to live. It hurts, seeing him so assured of his downfall. But after spending so long alone in this state? Patton can’t blame him.

It hurts, but he can’t blame him.

“Did you sleep much?” he asks, feeling Virgil shift his weight to be more comfortable.

“Nah,” Virgil sighs. “I… couldn’t make it through the night.”

“Sleep now, if you want,” Patton offers. “I’ll make sure you both are alright.”

It doesn’t take long for Virgil to drift off. Patton settles down to wait, and drifts off himself at some point too.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Roman is roused his from his oddly peaceful slumber by the door being opened with a sing-song “breakfast’s ready!”

The voice is silky and gentle, and Roman sits up and realises through his bleary blinks that it’s Janus. Huh. He’s never heard Janus talk to him like that before.

It’s cute.

Janus pauses in the doorway, before laughing a little, and leaning back out into the corridor. “I’ve found them.”

“Hm?” Logan sticks his head around the door as Janus crosses the room, and snorts himself as they see Patton and Virgil curled up against each other under a blanket propped up against Roman’s bed. Roman looks over and laughs, a surprisingly light sound seeing how exhausted he was yesterday, and he shifts in bed so he’s a bit more comfortable.

“Good morning,” he says, smiling.

“Good morning,” Janus replies, putting down the tray on his lap. “You seem… well.”

Roman blinks, before looking up at Janus with realisation. He can’t find the words in that moment, but Janus is right. He feels… okay.

“Porridge,” Janus presses the spoon into his hand. “Honey and spices, and with cream. Logan says that’s how you like it.”

“Logan’s right,” Roman says in a small voice, and he shoots Logan a smile, who totally doesn’t preen under the reaction. “Thank you.”

He begins to eat (finally has the stomach to eat something) as Janus crouches down in front of his guardian angels and gently shakes them both awake.

Virgil wakes first, bleary and armed with a death glare, but he does mellow out as he comes a little more to his senses. Patton takes a bit to shake awake, always a heavy sleeper, but eventually he does sit up and stretch tall, yawning.

“What time is it?”

“About 10,” Janus says, standing. “We’re having porridge.”

Patton gets to his feet and offers Virgil a hand up, and then and only then turns and looks at Roman. The delight on his face to see Roman sitting upright makes Roman grin.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi!” Patton says back, and perches on the edge of the bed with the sunniest look Roman’s seen in a long time. “Hi! You look well.”

“That’s what Janus said,” Roman winks, and takes a moment to have another spoon or two, at least while it’s still hot. “I feel better.”

Virgil wanders over to stand beside the bed, hands in his pockets, and shares a smile of his own. “Pain?”

“Yeah, still,” Roman shrugs. “I don’t know if that’s going away. But anyway. Go have your breakfast. It’s good. Quality control can confirm.”

Janus laughs at that and ushers the others from the room. One last glance over his shoulder shoots Roman a look that is too complicated for Roman to translate into words. But it seems to read in a way that suggests that he’ll be back to check on him.

Roman eats, he scrapes his bowl clean. He sets it aside, and goes to sit back, but for the first time in a long time, he has the energy to feel restless. He glances around the room, twiddles his thumbs for another half-minute, before murmuring a quick ‘fuck it’ to himself and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

The room doesn’t really swim. His legs don’t give out. His chest hurts, an ache that has been rotting right through him for so long it’s almost an old friend at this point, but it doesn’t send him to the floor.

He makes it to his vanity, puts the tray down there instead of his bed, and sits. It takes him time, but he gets his shirt off, and thinks about swapping out these ones for button downs, much less effort, and he leaves it in his lap as he evaluates. Because he’s having ideas, and he’s prepared to be disappointed, but…

He tears up a little as he realises he’s right. The… the cracks, they’re smaller. They’re smaller! His fingers find a patch of clear skin to explore and he can only smile. Virgil was right! It’s fixable!

There could be hope for him yet!

There’s a knock on his door, and Roman flinches and snaps around in his chair – doubling over a little as that hurts, but smiles as he realises it’s Janus in the doorway.

He’s… not as scared of Janus, at least not at the moment. Janus is at least trying to be gentle with him, so he’ll take it while he can get it.

Janus enters, clearly surprised.

“Don’t mind me,” Roman says, turning back to the mirror. “I just had to check something.”

“They’re smaller,” Janus comments, and Roman watches his reflection come up right behind him, and Janus’ hand rests on his back. “A Christmas miracle.”

“More like a Nightmare Before Christmas miracle,” Roman quips, and he rubs over the epicentre over his heart thoughtlessly.

“Virgil?”

“We talked, last night,” Roman couldn’t bring himself to meet Janus’ eyes. “And I guess it helped.”

“So emotional repair brings physical repair,” Janus murmurs to himself, mostly. “That’s good to know.”

Roman shifts in his seat and tries to smile. Janus can see his discomfort, and takes back his hand.

“I’m… apologies, Roman. I guess I’m leaping straight over our troubled waters into wanting to help you.”

“If that’s what you want to do, then I don’t mind building our bridge again.”

Janus looks at him in the mirror, and Roman makes himself look back, and makes himself smile. Janus hums, something Roman wonders whether he’s picked up from Patton or not, and shakes his head gently.

“I would like to repair the one we have, if possible,” Janus’ hand trails along the back of the chair as he moves around to Roman’s side, and kneels down on one knee. Roman tilts in his chair to they are face-to-face. “I know there is a lot of legwork to be put in on my side, but-”

“On both sides,” Roman corrects him, and he reaches out and takes Janus’ hand before he can stop himself. “Did I ever apologise for my behaviour?”

“Your apologies are written all over your skin,” Janus replies seriously, eyes wandering over Roman’s chest. “And your physical change of behaviour has been enough to prove to me you regret it. But if you feel you need to say it, I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman declares. “I’m sorry for laughing at your name and villainising you. I’m sorry for trying to shoot you down without giving you a chance.”

Janus looks sad at that, but lets Roman finish and squeezes his hand gently in support.

“My turn,” he says seriously. “Roman, I’m sorry I used you.”

Roman stares at him, stunned by his bluntness.

“I… well, because I did. The first time, I used you to try and get into Thomas’ good books. Virgil called me out, of course, and I half-expected it. But I played into your…” he shoots Roman a look that makes him flush, “interests, and… yes, I’m not necessarily proud of that.”

Interests. Does he mean the stage or does he mean Patton? God, is he that transparent?!

“And… the trial. I thought I could get you on my side. I thought… I think I wanted to make a point, and you ended up being my poster child. And you became a martyr instead. I should have known that in your heart of hearts, you are selfless to the point of destruction, and you would have bowed to Patton and what you all considered ‘right’ anyway.”

Roman recoils a little at that, and Janus winces because he’s clearly unhappy with how he’s worded that.

“I’m not some… dog reliant on what Patton says or thinks,” Roman shoots back.

“No,” Janus agrees. “But… you’d have to be blind to ignore how much you do for him.”

Roman looks down, and hopes he isn’t flushing as hard as he looks like.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I don’t know if he knows, but… at least to me? Clearly.”

Roman shakes his head and goes to take his hand back, but Janus hangs on for another moment. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m not here to interrogate you over your taste in men. I hope you work it out. But I’m here to… I drove you into the ground, didn’t I?”

“I did that myself.”

“You spiralled, but I gave you the push.”

Roman doesn’t counter that, because Janus isn’t wrong. He just had no idea that Janus was so aware.

“So,” Janus looks down, takes a steadying breath, and looks up again. “What I’m trying to say, is… I’m sorry, Roman. I really am.”

“You have everything you want,” Roman says before he can think. “And you got yourself there. I… I feel like I can’t be mad at that.”

“You can, and you should. But I don’t have everything I want,” Janus says, mysterious as ever as he gets to his feet, but not letting Roman’s hand go just yet, cradling it in his own.

“And what’s that?”

“A friendship with you,” Janus smiles, a real smile that Roman’s never seen directed his way before. “If you’d be willing.”

Roman looks down for a moment, considering, before he looks back up with a stony expression. He holds it for a second, just to unnerve Janus, before it breaks into something far sunnier.

“Finally,” Roman smiles back, “someone to sing show tunes with who won’t complain for 20 minutes first.”

Janus laughs, he laughs, he actually tips his head back and laughs good and heartily, before turning this oddly bright look back onto the prince. “It’d be an honour,” he says. He squeezes Roman’s hand one more time, before letting it go. “Now, do you feel like you can come downstairs today, or…?”

Roman turns back to the mirror and studies his own face for a moment.

“No,” he says politely. “I might stay in here today. Or even have a shower. God knows I haven’t done that in a few days.”

Janus laughs a little at that. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he banters, “but that could be nice.”

Roman rolls his eyes at the ribbing and lightly punches Janus’ arm before he can step out of the way. “I get it, I get it,” he gripes good-naturedly. “Now, leave me to my beauty routine.”

Janus does as requested, though the way he lingers in the doorway tells Roman he doesn’t want to leave Roman on his own. He doubts any of them do. They might be taking it in turns, yet. But he waves him off, gathers some clothes, and heads off to the bathroom.

He does, notably, not lock the door, though. …Just in case it comes crashing down. And by it, he means him.

--- --- --- --- ---  

One sleep later and he’s feeling better again. Emotional healing equals physical healing. Roman has been running on fumes and spite for so long that the hardest thing about this whole thing has been actually learning he can recover, and that he probably should.

Logan has taken to checking on him so regularly that Roman doesn’t need a clock anymore to tell when an hour has passed. It’s nice, it’s sweet. Obviously Logan feels awful and is trying to make it up to him, and Roman doesn’t want to use Logan like that, but to have such gentle attention from Logic is something so novel and something he doesn’t want to give him. He hopes he doesn’t have to.

Janus has taken him up on that comment on singing duets, and it’s helping to give Roman his lung capacity back. It also turns out that somehow, somehow, Remus knows how to play piano! Or, perhaps with how Creativity works, similar to Roman speaking Spanish, Remus can play piano purely because he thinks he can, or because he wants to.

But they’ve found space in Roman’s room for a baby grand piano (second-hand and white, of course), and Roman still has to sit, he can’t handle being on his feet for long stretches of time yet, but… it’s fun. He’s never hung out with Janus or Remus like this, and it’s nice to find someone to be musical with. Patton isn’t as nerdy on musical theatre as he is, but will still try and connect over music. Virgil and Logan don’t sing, and they don’t necessarily gel on his music tastes either.

This has been new. It’s been amazing. Even if his body is still fragile, emotionally? Roman’s feeling better than he has in a long time. Maybe ever.

Virgil makes him leave his room. Which is ironic, Roman thinks, seeing as if Virgil had a choice, he’d probably never leave his own room ever. But Virgil gets him up and walking, gets him downstairs, helps him down and on the rare occasion that it’s a particularly bad day, carries him back upstairs so he doesn’t exhaust himself sinking out. Roman had no idea Virgil was so strong! And perhaps it’s a ‘if-i-can-see-him-he’s-not-dead’ sort of thing, but honestly, it’s nice to be noticed. And to be noticed for reasons that aren’t being told to pull his head in.

Patton’s been engaging with him as much as possible. They’ve rewatched Steven Universe together at Patton’s request. They’ve binged Disney movies and musicals, even ones Patton probably doesn’t like, he gets Roman to sit up at the breakfast counter as he cooks, he reads books with him and joins Roman at the table for group drawing sessions. He is there, he is there, he is so there all the time that it makes Roman’s heart sing, because finally he has Patton close to him again.

He's so scared it’ll come crashing down again, but he’s tried to promise himself he’s going to enjoy it while it lasts.

Does Patton know? Does Patton know that that childish infatuation he once admitted to so many years ago still lives strong, nestled right beside Roman’s broken heart? Roman has no clue, and he doesn’t think he should risk it. He’s happy to love Patton at a distance. He’s happy to watch Patton chat away about his day and the discussion he had with Logan this morning over the stir fry he’s trying out, or taste-testing the soup Patton’s making.

He catches himself one day with his chin propped up in his hand, staring dreamily at Patton as Patton kneads dough, totally not watching his arms, only disrupted when Janus slips past Patton to grab a glass of water and shoots Roman an amused look.

Patton looks over to see what Janus finds so funny, and Roman is caught with that lovestruck look on his face. He tries to drop it, to hide it as anything more neutral, but it’s covered in blush before he can get his chickens in a line.

Patton blushes too, for some god-forsaken reason, caught staring with some cogs whirring behind his eyes, until Janus seems to elbow him accidentally, and he is spurred back into action with a squeak.

Roman and Patton can barely look at each other for the next ten minutes. Eventually, Patton finishes his kneading, and puts it away in a covered bowl to rise and such, before turning and slamming his hands on the counter in front of Roman.

“I need to talk to you!” he exclaims, still red in the face. “I have been meaning to and accidentally putting it off!”

“I-is it important?”

“Yes!” Patton’s face drops. “No! Maybe? It’s important to me!”

Roman can’t help but smile, and the heat finally starts to disappear from his face. “Okay,” he says. “Tell me.”

“I, uh, it’s… ugh! Gimme a sec!”

Patton turns away and washes his hands, fumbling in his rush, before leaving the kitchen and skirting around the bench until he’s beside Roman, turning the prince towards him on his rotating barstool.

“I…”

Patton suddenly glances around, self-conscious, and sees that there’s no one else downstairs.

“Okay,” he whispers, before turning back to Roman, who’s got such a question on his face that it’s so earnestly cute.

“Okay,” Patton says again. “Roman, I got something I need to say. About you. To you. Um.”

Roman tries not to look as scared as he suddenly feels, but it clearly doesn’t work, because Patton sees his panic and immediately goes on damage control. “Oh! Oh, no, hon, it’s nothing bad, nothing bad at all. I, uh, it’s just a little hard for me to put my words together! Haha, give me a mo, okay?”

Roman nods, his breath still catching over hon. When did it shift from kiddo to hon? He feels like he noticed the first time it happened, but it’s become so much more regular an occurrence nowadays. It still feels as electric as it did the first time.

Roman studies Patton’s face as Patton half-turns away, watching the way his hair falls and Patton reaches up without a thought to push it back out of his eyes, the way his glasses frame his face, the way he’s chewing his lip anxiously, the way there is still heat rising to his face, the way his eyes are glittering with something Roman can’t name.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers to himself, and he’s cupped Patton’s cheek in his hand and turns Patton’s head towards him so he can study him better without really thinking about it, seeing how Patton’s eyes go wide and that flush darkens, and his own breath hitches because yes, he thinks he’s read this situation correctly. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“You have,” Patton breathes back, voice equally as soft as his own hand comes up to rest on Roman’s wrist. “I-I… Roman…”

“Yes, Pat?”

“I love you.”

Roman blinks. Once, twice, before the words land and he gasps, like the air’s been knocked out of him.

“I love you,” Patton repeats, like now the words are out, he can’t get over how they feel in his mouth. “I love you and I think I’ve been in love with you for a very long time.”

“Ye gods above,” Roman murmurs, watching Patton study him right back with wide and totally-not-anxious eyes, “that’s fortunate. Because I think I’ve been in love with you ever since-”

“That Christmas?”

“…Yeah.”

“God, me too.”

Roman laughs, and goes to drop his hand, but his breath seizes up as Patton’s hand slips up his wrist and presses Roman’s hand to his face, so he can’t move. Not that Roman wants to.

“This whole time?”

“Yes,” Roman shrugs. “I… I didn’t act because I didn’t know how you felt. And then I knew… or, uh, I suppose I thought, that you could do so much better than me.”

“That’s very ironic,” Patton says quietly, almost meekly, “because I felt the same way. I just thought… you and Virgil, seemed to get along so well, even when I couldn’t be enough for you.”

“Oh my god,” Roman snorts despite himself. “I couldn’t dream of kissing Virgil. But that’s very funny, because here I was telling myself I was nothing for you compared to Janus.”

“Janus?!” Patton echoes, shocked, before he laughs too. “Oh, that’s… Roman, hon, I appreciate Janus very much, but I think he’s a good friend and nothing more. I don’t think I’ve ever felt about anyone else the way I’ve felt about you. Even when things happened, even when things changed, I always found that deep in here,” and his spare hand touches himself lightly over the heart, “there was a part of me that loved you.”

Roman’s smiling. He’s also crying. He’s not sure when either of those things started happening but he’s so full of emotions he might just burst.

“I love you too!” he exclaims. “I… I have tried not to, for our sakes, but I could never get over you.”

Patton smiles back, his own eyes very watery.

“It’s fortunate, then,” he notes, stepping in a little closer, “that you’ll never have to.”

“Oh,” Roman breathes, his heartbeat speeding up as Patton inches closer, until he’s standing between Roman’s knees, and now it’s Patton reaching to tilt Roman’s head up, eyes flicking to each other’s lips and back. “Thank god.”

“Kiss me?”

Patton’s voice is tiny, but his words are like a roar in Roman’s ears.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Roman meets him halfway. It’s soft, sweet, it’s tender and it’s hesitant. It’s a peace offering, a bridge, it’s an acceptance of a long and sordid past. It’s Roman melting against Patton as Patton wraps his arms around his prince, being there, grounding him.

It’s so much and it’s not enough. Roman is drowning and Roman is floating. He’s electric and he’s earth. He doesn’t know but he’s so full of everything all at once that when Patton pulls away he’s far more breathless than he should be, and far closer to tears, too.

“Okay?”

“So okay.” Roman leans in to brush noses with Patton. “Again?”

Patton laughs, and indulges him.

They break away to the sound of clapping and cheering, and also of scolding, and they both snap around to realise there’s a crowd on the stairs, and Janus and Remus have given them a standing ovation, Virgil’s frantically trying to shut them up, and Logan’s pinching the bridge of his nose with a good-natured sigh. Then, he looks up, grins at his oldest friends, and says “took you long enough.”

“Oh god,” Roman says.

“You knew?!” Patton exclaims.

“Neither of you are that subtle,” Janus drawls, sharing a knowing look with Logan. “I’m just glad you got there on your own, finally.”

“On our own,” Roman folds his arms and raises an eyebrow at Janus. “Sure thing.”

“Well, you know me,” Janus smirks. “I do so love to give a little push now and then.”

Roman’s about to break off into a full indignant argument, when Patton just laughs and spins Roman’s seat back around his back is to the stairs, and he kisses him again.

“Guys!” Virgil exclaims, but it’s clearly light-hearted.

Roman makes the most obvious moon-eyes of his life at Patton as they break away again. “I could get used to this, you know,” he grins.

“Good,” Patton winks back. “You’re very kissable.”

Roman proves his point as the others start trying to heckle them from the stairwell.

--- --- --- --- ---  

About half an hour later, Roman crashes good and hard. He’s fine walking around, hell, he’s over the moon! And then the next moment, he’s lowering himself into a seat as the room phases in and out, a wave of exhaustion settling so thoroughly into his bones that it nearly knocks him breathless.

This doesn’t go unnoticed. Patton’s by his side in a heartbeat, and… judging by how cold those hands are, it’s Logan, too.

“Are you okay?”

“I…” Roman cuts himself off with an enormous yawn, and unconsciously rubs over his heart. “I think so. ‘M just tired all of a sudden.”

“Pain?”

“No.” Roman blinks slowly. “I feel really warm.”

Logan’s hand presses against his forehead. “No fever,” Logan notes, sounding worried.

“Like… cosy sort of warm,” Roman tries to continue, leaning into Patton’s side. “Feel good. Just… tired.”

“This happens most times, doesn’t it?” Janus’ voice comes. “Both on damage and healing. He falls asleep and something happens.”

“…Do you think it’ll be good things?”

“I do,” Roman mumbles. “I’ll riot if it isn’t. It doesn’t hurt.”

And actually, yeah. Maybe it’s just the suddenly delirious state he’s in, but… he’s not in pain right now. He feels warm down to the tips of his fingers, and oh so heavy. It crashes through him again, enough to make his ears ring, and he slumps even more. Hands catch him before he topples out of the chair.

“Help me get him upstairs,” someone says. It sounds like Patton.

“I gotcha,” says Virgil, Roman thinks, and is then quickly followed by the familiar sensation of arms slipping underneath him, and then being effortlessly lifted and carried upstairs. Roman’s head lolls against Virgil’s hoodie.

“You good?” Virgil asks him.

“Mm,” Roman hums. “Think so.”

“Alright.”

It doesn’t take long. He’s being ferried into bed and tucked in, and he can open his eyes enough to see that sky blue he’s so fond of, and manages to snag Patton’s hand before he can step too far away.

“Oh,” Patton turns back. “Do you… want me to stay?”

“Mm-hm.” Roman gives him a tug, trying to pull him in closer. He… he feels warm and heavy and exhausted and cuddly and he just wants Patton. Maybe he’ll regret this when he can think straight. But Patton kicks off his shoes, folds away his glasses, and snaps himself into some pyjamas and shrugs.

“Alright, hon,” he says. “Scoot over.”

No qualms, no questions, no weirdness, no distaste. Patton just slots in like he’s always belonged there, and it’s never been easier to fall asleep pillowed up on his chest.

--- --- --- --- ---  

Patton is the one woken by Roman this time. The prince sits up, and is already tugging off his shirt as Patton is still propping himself up on one elbow, fumbling for his glasses.

He turns back in time to see Roman grinning down at himself, as his cracks have closed by a good half-inch all around. He even manages to twist, and Patton can see that actually, some of the ones on his back have actually sealed, and they only really reach around to his ribs and intercostals now.

“Roman,” Patton murmurs, glowing with pride to see him so healthy, more so than he’s been in a long time, and Roman turns to him and all but throws himself at Patton, knocking Patton back down onto the pillow as he leans over him, eyes glittering.

“Good morning, my illustrious partner,” he coos, and Patton can’t keep all the fondness down in his chest.

“Good morning, my sweetest prince,” he says right back. “Hope this isn’t too forward.”

“Nah,” Roman kisses him, once, twice, three little pecks. “It was so nice to sleep beside someone.”

“On someone,” Patton jokingly corrects as he negotiates Roman off him and sits up. “I felt like a pillow.”

“And what a marvellous pillow you are,” Roman jokes back. “The best pillow I ever had. The most handsome one, too.”

“You charmer,” Patton rolls his eyes, and tries to ignore the fact that Roman still has his shirt off. Roman kisses him again, bouncing on the bed a little, like he’s so excited to actually be able to do it he can’t stop.

Patton can’t blame him. He feels the same.

It’s a slow morning, for the two of them, slow and lazy and delightful. They end up downstairs by 11 for a late brunch, Roman wearing a button-up white shirt that he leaves half-done-up, almost like he’s showing off his recovery. The pattern is weird, but he can’t deny the results. And he hasn’t felt this good in so long. Both emotionally and physically.

Thomas summons them an hour later. He’s standing in his lounge, as per usual, and is talking to Logan when Patton and Roman arrive, this time standing closer than normal.

“I was trying to… I guess, like, sink down to you guys,” Thomas is raking a hand through his hair, “like I did with Janus, but I must not be able to do it by my… Roman!”

All eyes are on him, and for the first time in a long time, Roman doesn’t mind. It feels comfortable, even, like it used to.

“Hi, Thomas,” he says simply, smiling.

“You!” Thomas clasps his hands and grins. “You look so much better! I’m… oh my god, I’m so happy for you.”

“We’ve been… figuring stuff out,” Roman’s smile turns shy. “A-and let’s say some important conversations have been had.”

“Roman’s beginning to believe he’s worth the effort now!” Virgil calls from his seat on the stairs. “It’s great.”

“Hell yeah!” Thomas turns back to him, pumped.

“Also he’s now realising how much we all love him,” Patton adds, which makes Roman blush because he doesn’t know if Patton’s meaning them or not but he’s also not wrong.

“Good,” Thomas folds his arms.

“And we’re hoping that he’s fully realising how integral he is to our healthy functioning not only as parts of a whole, but as a family,” Logan finishes, arms folded in a mirror of Thomas’ pose – though it probably was not intentional.

Roman looks down, feeling very choked up all of a sudden.

“That’s good,” Thomas agrees, in a voice so soft that it makes Roman’s head snap up in a heartbeat. Thomas meets his eyes, the same liquidy expression rippling across his face. “Roman, that’s great.”

Roman pauses, before tugging open his shirt a little more. “And I’m getting better,” he says, softly but genuinely. “I really am.”

Thomas takes one hesitant step forward, then another, before he closes the distance and pulls Roman into the biggest hug he can. Roman goes willingly, laughing delightedly at it all, at the love, at the lack of pain, at the moment in time.

“I’m gonna be okay,” he mumbles into Thomas’ shoulder, just loud enough for his centre to hear. “I promise.”

“You better be,” Thomas whispers back. “Or… Or I’ll…”

“Leave the threats to me,” Roman leans back with a laugh. Thomas laughs too, and gives him one last quick hug – like he just can’t believe he gets to have the honour of holding Roman in his arms – before letting him go.

“I… I mostly wanted to check in on you guys,” he confesses, retreating to his normal spot. “And mostly Roman. No other issues? Nothing I should know?”

“Nope,” Roman shakes his head. “All present and correct.”

“Fantastic,” Thomas clasps his hands again. “Roman… god, Roman, I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that.”

Roman’s lip wobbles. “I… I think so,” he says in a tiny voice.

“That’s enough for me,” Thomas smiles. “But let me know when you need a reminder because that I can do.”

Roman feels tired all of a sudden again. He smiles, and yawns, and takes Patton’s hand for support. Patton squeezes his hand gently, and they ignore how Thomas raises an eyebrow at that.

“I think I need to go sit down,” Roman says quietly, which gets everyone’s attention in an instant. “Thank you, Thomas. Have a good rest of your day, and don’t forget to get groceries.”

“Oh! Oh shit, thanks,” Thomas pulls out his phone and starts setting reminders, calculating budget. “Catch y’all soon, okay?”

They all sink out together, Roman leaning on Patton more and more. They end up laying him out on the couch. He’s asleep within the minute.

 --- --- --- --- --- 

Time goes on and on. Heartbreak is nothing linear, of course, and neither is recovery. Roman’s cracks might never seal fully, but by the time a month or so has passed, they are thin and dark, looking more like hairline fractures than proper, actual cracks.

He’s back to his princely self. He can wear his clothes, he can do what he used to. He’s happier and healthier and he’s so in love with Patton it’s not even funny.

He’s finally found himself again, it seems. Finally rediscovered how to live and love being alive. And oh how he missed being him.

--- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---   --- --- --- --- ---  

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #patton sanders #royality #logan sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #body horror tw #terminal illness tw #semi-terminal illness (magic) #food tw #swearing tw #hurt/comfort #kissing tw #mild suicidal ideations #djpurple3's writing yo

[princeanxious]

:) so. No one ordered it, but, I have an Logan Angst(w/ hurt/comfort to balance it out a little) au idea to deliver!

So you know those AU fics w/ Virgil where he hides smth unusual abt himself( Like wings, Spider limbs, Being unusually tall, ect.) Bc he’s afraid of what the others will think/do if they find out?

Take that and apply it to Logan, But he’s actually been hiding it ever since (AU)!Thomas became Obsessed with Marine Biology as a kid!(i genuinely cant remember what Thomas's real life degree was gonna be b4 he switched to YouTube but for the au's sake im going with marine biologist)

What’s he hiding, you ask? Fish scales, of course!

(Continued under the cut)

Logan used to wear long sleeves all the time, and Sherlock bit with the scarf was a cover up for when he used to wear it constantly when they were younger, not that Virgil(who has spider traits in this but never thought to hide them b4 he was accepted, and by that point there was no reason to) nor any of the other dark sides with animal traits knew about it either, but his body, especially his legs and hips, were covered in shimmery sapphire blue scales, and in patches around the gills on his neck and ribs.

Why doesn't Logan wear long sleeves now? Because the scales suddenly stopped reappearing (coincidentally right around the time Thomas gave up on marine biology to do youtube) on his arms the few times they'd accidentally been pulled off some how, be it bumps/scrapes or eventually Logan getting fed up w/ the illogicalness of it all and 'removing' the rest on his arms so that he could finally wear short sleeves and not raise more questions about his health.

The scales around the gills on his neck are more tragic, as they do regrow still, to keep his gills safe. He plucks them as close to the gills as possible, before wearing masking makeup & a high collar with a tie to ensure his gills never peak out from his shirt.

It limits his normal comfortable way of breathing, but hes been doing it so long that he doesnt remember what it feels like, and thus isn't bothered by it anymore, as his gills dont open up fully anymore unless submerged under water for a long period of time.

Why is he so insistant about thomas drinking the healthy recommended amount of water? Because if Logan didn’t, he'd suffer migraines and get sick from being dehydrated in easily less than half the time it'd take for Thomas or any of the others to reach

Why doesnt he ever go swimming with the others? Because if he did, there's no gaurantee his body would let him leave the water after refusing to so much as even soak in a bathtub for years at this point

Hell, his body might even go into shock at that point.

No idea how his reveal would go, but the idea of the others spraying him with water spray bottles when he is over-dry and resultingly irritable has been brought up as an additional idea by @this-is-ske(my lovely frien who lets me info dumb abt all my aus so we can shout abt them together) and my only thought is that Logan is spiteful and petty enough to snatch a spray bottle and spray them right back.

He often needs to spray himself with water, even if he’d had a shower not two hours ago, because his scales dry out very quickly and its sensory hell in combination with even the softest of dress pants.

But the years of neglect slowly turned his shimmery sapphire blue scales into dulled greyblue, as a result from being dried out and flakey and unhealthy for so long.

He tries not to think about it too hard when he's forced to look at them.

Remus wouldn’t hesitate to toss post-reveal(and post-recovery)! Logan full out into a fucking pool, or just hop into one and drag him in with. "Dry Fishies are irritated fishies, be like me! Get wet and feel better!" *Cue Remus eye brow waggle that reflects to the rest of his tentacle arms*

No but srsly remus and janus finding iut and going "oh HELL no" bc janus knows what its like to not take care of your scales properly and Remus knows what its like to dry out.

Imagine the additional angst when Janus finds out not only about the scales but the gills on his ribs and neck too, and feels SUPREMELY guilty bc of the crook yank he did

"Its fine, its not like I could breath out of them anymore, they just bruised a bit longer" *even more concerned and upset Janus noises*

"What do you mean you cant breath out of them anymore!"

" ..One day they just wouldn't open? Sort of like the equivalent of a stuffed nose, except that they never reopened because they'd fully dried out, I think."

"I swear to god Logan I wish I could strangle you," *cue Janus wapping Logan w/ a rolled up paper, Edna Mode style, lecturing* "One day! You'll understand! Self care! Is good! For you!"

Cue them finally bullying Logan into taking care of them but no longer hiding the scales as the ones on his arms start coming back, but still greyblue, bc at this point Logan doesnt even want to deal with the immediate headache of them learning right off the bat that they Shouldnt Look Like That. He doesnt even really believe that they'll ever change back to their once brilliant blue, thinking it just a fluke with their age or something.

It takes months.

And then one day he wakes up, having been sleeping in the imagination with Remus, having indulged in underwater sleeping as a healing therapy, made better only by the fact that Remus is a rly good cuddler, and his tentacles keep them both locked together in the water, *and* one anchors them so they don't drift away in their sleep.

Remus is staring at him, his chest to be exact, where new patches of scales had been growing to meet in the middle around the gills on his ribs. He looks down and notices theres an uneven patch of brilliant blue peaking out from the sea of comparably grey scales. Then he notes that multiple patches of scales are slowly regaining their hue. It doesn't take long for the others to put two and two together about sick fish with dull scales. It confirms Logan had been sick for Years, and was only Just healing to a beginning state of equilibrium.

For some comfort w/ all this angst, when Logan does see his blue scales for the first time? He smiles, he smiles so wide at Remus. Remus probably falls in love with the way Logan's gills flare out prettily in time with Logan's smile. Logans finally convinced to take care of himself, and the first glimpse of progress has him Beaming for Days.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #platonic dlampr #intrulogical #logan angst #luka writes #luka’s aus #platonic loceit #romantic intrulogical #ask to tag #hurt/comfort

[creative-lampd-liberties]

Prompt 40 anxceit of the 101 ways to say I love you please?

Sure thing 😊 Here you go @zozomind I hope you enjoy.

Anxceit # 40 "Don't leave yet."

Warnings: cursing, a minor sprinkling of angst. These two are useless pining morons, its fine

☆☆☆

It had been a long day of filming, something new they were trying that required they rent studio space. Everyone was exhausted when Thomas finally made it home. Logan quietly stayed with him, to make sure he didn't just faceplant into bed still fully dressed. Patton and Roman were all soft giggles and effusive yawns once they hit the mindscape. Giddy, but in that slow-blinking way, as they bid everyone goodnight. Even Remus didn't say much, absentmindedly chewing on a banana peel as he shed pieces of his outfit all the way to his door.

That left just Virgil and Janus just standing in the common area in silence. Virgil was also wiped, but definitely too keyed up to be anything even remotely resembling sleepy. He stretched, groaning, and something popped. "That was too much, what a nightmare. And we have to do it again next week? Screw that noise."

He was expecting a vaguely sarcastic response from the other side. When he got nothing he frowned, glancing over. Then did a double take. Janus was just *standing* there blinking at nothing. He was swaying ever so slightly and… shivering? In the middle of a Florida summer? "Hey two-face, look alive." His voice came out sharper than he'd meant it too, a little fission of panic sparking through him.

That panic doubled when Janus didn't even seem to register the words at all. He drifted slowly closer. "Janus? You in there?" Still nothing. Hesitantly, awkwardly, he gripped the snake-like side's shoulders. "Dee?" He couldn't keep the worry from coloring his voice, probably his face too.

And suddenly Janus shook his head, blinking, like he was coming out of a trance. "Hmmm, what? What'ss wrong?" A hissing lisp wove through the words, betraying his exhaustion. Maybe that's all it was. Still…

"You okay?" Virgil furrowed his brow.

"Perfectly-" A jaw cracking yawn, complete with fangs "-fine. Why do you assk?"

Virgil snorted, worry dissipating a bit. "Sure, Jan. Go to bed, you're dead on your feet."

"Liessss. I'm ssharp as a tack."

"Uh-huh. C'mon, you menace." Virgil tugged him a little in the direction of the stairs.

Janus hesitated, swaying like he might tip over. "I'm abssoulutely ssure I can make it up."

That one took Virgil a minute to parse. "Oh." He said, feeling a little dumb. He couldn't just leave Janus down here, but he also kinda wanted to go to bed. He eyed the other side, contemplating. "Hang on, I wanna try something." He shifted his grip and scooped Janus into a princess carry.

"That was *not* an invitation to manhandle me!" Janus squirmed without much strength, but with a near murderous glare. He looked a little more alert. "Put me down, *right now*."

"Not a chance." Virgil smirked at him, quite satisfied with his solution.

Despite his grumbles, Janus slowly relaxed as they climbed the stairs, blinking sleepily and whining when Virgil set him down outside his door. He thought about leaving him there, but something about Janus's face made a protective feeling surge in him. So he followed him awkwardly inside.

The protective urge wasn't new, neither was the awkwardness. He tried not to remember the last time he'd been in this room, during the fight, before he left. They'd been working on their relationship, but it still wasn't back to the closeness of before. He shook himself, focusing on making sure Janus didn't knock himself unconscious getting ready for bed.

He was tilting alarmingly, tugging ineffectually at his clothes. Watching him fight with his cape and gloves was gonna give Virgil contact embarrassment. "Okay, okay stop. God, you're useless right now." He stepped in to do it for him. 

Janus stuck out his forked tongue. "Flaterer." He grumbled, but he didn't pull away so Virgil was gonna count this one as a win.

Although passive Janus was almost as bad. "C'mon, Dee, you gotta help me out a *little* here." He said, struggling to peel away all his layers while the snake-like side nearly went limp against him. When he finally wrestled off his shirt and accidentally brushed skin, he winced. Janus was like *ice*, even where he had been covered. "Shit, why are you so cold?"

"*Not*. It was hot at the studio." The pout in his voice was audible. Right, the a/c had been stuck on high, even Virgil had been cold in his hoodie. He burrowed closer to Virgil as he tried to peel off the undershirt, whining. "Sstop it."

"Stop fighting me, you need to get warmed up." Virgil growled to cover up his ratcheting anxiety. Janus was *cuddly*. That only happened when he was entirely too cold. He stopped, sighing, and resigned himself to just snapping the other side into comfy clothes no matter how uncomfortable it made him to do it.

Janus went completely boneless, Virgil had to catch him with a yelp. He pressed his chilled face against Virgil's neck. "Mmn, you're *sso warm*."

Virgil felt his cheeks flame."Um. You can't sleep like this, dude."

"Can."

"Nope, uh-uh. Bed time, you slippery shit." With a gentleness belaying his tone, Virgil scooped him up again. He settled Janus into his bed, nestling him in among his two hundred some pillows. He clicked on one of the heated blankets, tucking it tightly around the snake-like side. He surveyed the results with a critical eye."Okay, that should do it, how's that?"

"Mmh-hm. Thankssss…" Janus seemed to be already mostly asleep. He yawned and shuffled into the mass of pillows.

Virgil would deny the fond smile he was sporting until the end of time. Janus was *not* cute and he was *absolutely not* feeling soft about it. "Anytime, Dee." He brushed a stray lock of hair from a scaled cheek and turned to go.

But a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. "Don't leave yet." Janus's eyes were more alert than before, and a small dark fear lurked in them. "Pleasse." He said, and Virgil could almost hear the echo of *not again*...

They really do need to talk, but… maybe not tonight. "Yeah, alright. Scoot over." He kicked off his shoes. Giving the other side a reassuring smirk, he turned off the light and clambered in. 

Once he'd settled, he pulled Janus flush against him, that protective urge rearing its head again. His skin was already beginning to warm, and he went pliant, snuffling a little into Virgil's collar. One hand snuck up to wind itself into Virgil's hoodie, grip shaking. Virgil's heart twisted, and he hummed softly, dropping a kiss into the other side's hair. A silent assurance that he wasn't going anywhere.

"You can sleep, Dee. I'll be right here. "

#anxceit #soft anxceit #tss fic #sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #janus sanders #asks #replies #my fic #101 ways to say i love you #a necessary amount of deceit love