#once again logan is ranting incoherently

[soaqrudyz]

i like to think another reason soap and ghost trusted each other so quickly is because they could smell the low income upbringing on each other.

ghost was a slum kid through and through, with shoes that felt perpetually too large and cigarette holes through his hand-me-down jackets. if his mum didn’t have time to cook, or if her hands shook too violently to handle silverware, he was the one to scrape together enough passable nutrients to feed tommy, and some nights himself. he was born into back alley business and when his time came, if the worms didn’t get him, the stray cats could feast on his carcass for the next two generations.

soap grew up in a full house. when his da left with that droopy-eyed, pale sack of infections he deemed more important than his wife of seven years and their five children, his mum and older sister were the sole providers in his life. he learned very early on to make do with what he had unless he couldn’t, splitting funds for so many people, along with bills and groceries and clothes and school supplies, was an enormous task that he couldn’t very well make more difficult like the rest of his sisters seemed to want to with a clean conscience.

they both see it instantly — soap, the way ghost refused to ask for anything; and ghost, the way soap only asked for the cheapest, weakest, most useless version of what he needed, still with a guilty bite to his bottom lip. the way they both (metaphorically) lick their plates clean, afraid to waste a single crumb; the way each of them preferred to mend instead of simply buying something new like gaz; the way they both opt for one practical and one frivolous gift each holiday for both useage and enjoyment.

it’s easy to relate to the anxious pinch of eyebrows at the till when you’ve been too involved in financial discussions your whole life, and even easier to remind each other that money wasn’t a problem anymore. soap could remind ghost that he didn’t have to conserve anymore, and ghost could remind soap that he didn’t have to buy scratchy clothes or food brands he didn’t like just because they were cheaper.

and even if ghost didn’t want to ask for something he wanted, soap would get it anyway. and even if soap made a fuss of how much they threw in their cart, ghost would throw more in anyway.

because they can. because no matter their financial worry, they have someone who will understand and make everything feel okay again.

#you can just see when one of your friends grew up stable #dickheads #i know this because i lived this now shhhhhh #call of duty #cod #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #soap cod #soapghost #ghostsoap #soap x ghost #ghoap #once again logan is ranting incoherently

[lucindaspartnerrealandtrue]

This post was supposed to be made months ago. But. I may or may not have forgotten.

I do not know how this happened. Where this idea came from. But it happened. And now it exists. And I am sorry for how incoherent in may be at times, I really tried to articulate this post as much as I could. Yeah, so, basically, when Aph and the boys meet him for the first time our man's a pirate.

He didn't want to become a pirate, he always wished to become a guard, but after the incident, he didn't really have the possibility. Well. Actually. Let's take it from the start(<- using it as an excuse to rant about Dante in general.)

His main backstory remained kind of the same so feel free to skip a bit ahead until you see pink. Also just the heads up, cw for a slight mention of decapitation and minor(?) character death.

When he was little, he used to hang around his brother a LOT. Gene was his role model and everything he wished to become, after all. And why wouldn't he? His brother was great! Gene kind of had to take care of Dante because well. Their mother could do only so much as a single parent who had to work a LOT.

They weren't the wealthiest, so when he somehow gained the post of head guard(quite early in his life, quite suspicious, but not impossible) in Boboros, it really came in handy. Yeah, well, we all know this didn't last too long as Dante found out about Gene's plans regarding the Lord's daughter and ended up telling the guards, leading to Gene getting executed through decapitation.

Now.

After erasing everyone's memories of Dante,(and also murdering the Lord and his daughter) leaving the kid completely alone, Gene left for the Nether, as we know.

Dante tried to remain in the village at first. Because where could he possibly go? He was like. 10-11-ish at the time and quite literally didn't know anyone who could help him that wouldn't have been his mother or brother. And neither of them were an option anymore as it seems! The villagers weren't mean to him. They just didn't know who he was. And so assumed he was just an orphan. Somehow, that was even more cruel to him. Because all these people he knew, including his own MOTHER, just...didn't acknowledge the fact they've known him ever since he was a baby quite frankly(as it was a small village- so imagine everyone kind of knew everyone), and once cared for him.

Eventually, he made the decision to leave Boboros, as it seemed to be the best option for him, as there was nothing left here.

Maybe he'd end up somewhere in Bright Port, i'm thinking, and hang around the merchants that would come and go in, obviously, the port. He'd help around where he can, and in exchange, he'd get food/gold. Eventually, he ended up getting picked up by some nice people who gave him a place to stay and meals in exchange for him cleaning the ship sometimes!!

Yeah, those guys were pirates. It took him a bit to realise that, though. They didn't really fit the image he had in his head about them, you know? But again, he did hear of stories about them through Gene, and he was kind of second doubting everything that man ever told him at this point.

The idea of becoming a guard kind of died down to him, but the wish to help people did not.

I think as he got older, he did join the crew. As an. Actual pirate. Which yeah. Obviously. Pirate Dante!

His crew ended up on the frozen sea of Ru'an, the ship getting stuck in the ice. So they were forced to find a way to solve it while on foot. And then they got captured by the Eastern Wolf Tribe. And from there, again, it kind of happens what it happened in the canon. Dante manages to save Donna and gets her to the Southern Wolf Tribe.

And he decides to go back with Aphmau to save Logan, and also his crew.

They end up in Malachi's Castle, he meets Garroth and Laurance too eventually. I don't think they'd trust him too much at first.

They get imprisoned together. And I suppose they do get talking a bit, him and the boys while Aphmau is out transformed as a werewolf.

Andddd then he sticks around a bit too much because he ends up wanting to help them with the whole Pikoro missing lord situation.

He just wanted to be helpful!

The moment when Aphmau asks him if he'd like to come back with them, as a guard, takes place a few weeks later, perhaps even months(2 of them). Because no way this whole think took only a few days.

I think it would make more logic to ask him after MONTHS then DAYS if he wants to come with em. And he'd still have the same answer of course, which is that he'd think about it. Because, at the same time he wouldn't want to abandon the ship, but at the same time he's felt home with these three, even after still a very short period of time. He doesn't feel like abandoning what has been his home for like. A bit over 10 years for three people he just met but...

Okay. Okay. There is a whole arc that is very. Not completed in my head over here. And it takes a few more months in which. They bond. Ok? I'm not sure who i'm trying to convince over here. And after that, he does return with them three. Well. Four. Nicole's there, too!

The only moment that I have in my mind for this kind of completely non canon arc is Laurance realising that Dante is younger than him. He full heartily believed Dante was older. Perhaps the same age as Garroth? But definitely not younger than them.

And he comes back to Phoenix Drops. Not as a guard, though! That wasn't his intention. But he did get in that armour to help them with the war. And he did remain in it for 15 years.

Because he kind of felt like it was the least he could do for these people who offered him a home, a new stable one. And it was to protect them. Protect his new village and the people he loved. And, of course, wait for the ones who were stuck in the Irene dimension. Wait for Aphmau! Wait for Garroth! Wait for Laurance!

Look, the ship was cool and all but. To him!! It doesn't compare with an actual home in a safe place(like he had when he was young).

A few other concepts I have for this is that maybe Dante DID say that he was out of the guard academy at first and that he was a new guard because he thought that like that he'd be more trustworthy?

Nonetheless to say Aphmau didn't care about that, not before she found out and not afterwards. She was just slightly confused of why he felt the need to lie.

Laurance would make comments about how he doesn't have proper weapons, like in canon, or how he fights very differently. But things wouldn't really start making sense until later.

Garroth figured him out quite fast but didn't see it fit to say anything as they were kind of in the middle of something more important.

Also I think the idea of both Dante AND Laurance mentioning a man named Gene who just happened to be a shadow Knight but neither of them realise it's the same guy for a while a bit funny in a tragic way?

This idea is very silly to me in a /pos and I am not entirely sure WHAT I will do with it but here it is.

I think that's kind of all that I have to say at the moment? If anyone wants to add anything, feel free to do so.

Maybe I'll draw him soon...

#aphmau minecraft diaries #aphmau garroth #aphmau shalashaska #aphmau #dante aphmau #aphmau dante #mcd dante #dante minecraft diaries #dante mcd #aphmau laurance #minecraft diaries laurance #aphmau laurence #laurance zvahl #laurance mcd #laurence zvahl #aphverse #aphblr #minecraft diaries #andi's random rants #mcd #aphmau mcd #andi's mcd rewrite🏴 #pirate dante #<- for my own organisation #minecraft diaries garroth #minecraftdiaries #this idea is very silly to me

[dilfdoctordoom]

Maeve Dilfdoctordoom I have to ask, what are your opinions regarding Requiem/Infinity Wars and the lead up to it, especially in regards to Gamora?

This kinda went longer than expected so, uh, enjoy the rant, I guess.

It's all bad. EVERYTHING THEY DID IN THAT IDIOTIC STORY... like can anyone actually explain Gamora's motivations? In a way that makes any sense for her character? And the whole fucking story it -- it would tease actual reasons behind what she's doing (part of her soul being gone affecting her, old Soulworld Gamora up to some shit, Thanos' ghost) and then as soon as those ideas were introduced... it felt like they were forgotten.

The entire event is so messy and incoherent and like -- I'm not one to go 'oh x can always beat y' because, you know, comics, sliding powerscale, whatever, BUT MAGUS. WOULD NOT DIE TO ULTRON. I find that so beyond ridiculous and just??? What even is the Magus' timeline here. Last I saw him he was a kid but then he shows up with the soul stone just to be murdered.

And I get that reversing everything Galactus had going on back to the status quo was probably just an editorial mandate, but it was bad and boring and I didn't like it, which is upsetting, since I'd still say that sequence was the best of the entire event, it's build up, it's tie-ins, everything.

I'm pretty sure we only got Infinity Wars because the Infinity War movie was a thing (see: Civil War II dropping around the same time as the Civil War movie) and like, okay, whatever, more MCU bleed bullshit, but this was just... Reading it, I don't think the writer had any clue what he was doing.

AND IT'S TREATMENT OF GAMORA. God, when she'd come so far... it bothered me a lot. Keeping in mind that I read all her major appearances within, like, a month of each other... Infinity Wars kinda spits of everything Gamora stands for.

And is that to say that it couldn't have worked? No! A better writer would have found easy ways to explain her motivations that worked with what we've seen, but instead it's just... lol Gamora murdered trillions isn't she so evil.

The kiss between her and Peter is evil, actually, as it was the proper start to 616 Starmora.

The pacing of the series is so. nothing actually flows together. It has way too many ideas and no clue on how to use them. It genuinely feels like a bunch of concepts were thrown on a wall and they went with whatever stuck.

AGAIN, this annoys me because like... I would read some ridiculous cosmic bullshit event with Gamora, Logan, Adam Warlock, Loki, etc as the main characters. I would love that, it's just the type of weird line up that I'd enjoy... and instead. We got that.

I'm not gonna say that Duggan's run is without its merit, because it does present some interesting things, mainly with the return of Richard Rider to the world of Guardians, but, IDK, even that ended up falling flat. It was just weird that Rich didn't show up in the main storyline. Like... it's Gamora, Rich would do anything for her and Pete, and we'd gotten hints they'd gotten back together, but, no. Why have characters there that make sense when *checks list* Kamala Khan and Emma Frost can team up with Loki. Oh yes let's throw in some interdimensional versions of Phyla-Vell and Moondragon.

ANOTHER THING... I don't think the Guardians (specifically Peter, Drax and Gamora) got to really. react. to an alive Phyla-Vell??? And I'm not saying they were all best friends, but like... what. What the fuck. (Also I'm not entirely sure but I don't think Adam was, you know, dead when Duggan resurrected him).

There was just a lot of bad choices, poor pacing, shit characterization and all around terrible writing. Easily one of the worst comic events that I've ever read, because, despite reading it more than once, I cannot tell you the actual plot. I don't think it exists <3

Oh, but the art on the main series is beautiful.

#q & a #me: this event is shit #also me: gamora was drawn VERY pretty

[hoppe-ideas]

Logan Headcannon

It’s about him info dumping/ranting/talking too fast and how everyone always shoots him down or tells him to shut up, or to get on with it.

I do the exact same thing, I rant, I speak to fast, slurring words and incoherent thoughts together, talking about random facts. Most people that have shot me down by telling me to stop or that I’m annoying have learned not to do that.

It makes me very quiet and that is always worse, instead in the middle of my ramblings they say “Remember to breath.”

Which could be damaging but when I ramble I always forget to breath and I would imagine Logan would as well do imagine,

Logan rambling once again about a philosophy that could help

Roman shoots him down while insulting him

Logan stays quiet for the rest of the episode

He’s also quite during the next conflict, and the next one, and the next one, only talking when the group deemed necessary

Nobody realizes this is a problem until Janus shows up pointing it out

They all start saying how it’s not a problem and “Logan hasn’t changed at all!!” “He’s still very chatty!!”

Logan lets out a soft ‘falsehood’ and Janus is like “this proves my point!”

Roman doesn’t buy it

It’s not until Logan literally ducks out like how he’s been figuratively saying and everyone goes out to find him

Only to find him talking to the Duke

Remus listens very intently to Logan’s rant as Logan starts to forget to breath a little bit

Remus reminds him to breath and Logan stops and breaths

Everyone apologizes to Logan and how they’ve been treating him even Roman who was willing to give up his prince title for Logan

Logan doesn’t go back to normal right away, he stays quiet for months

Only ever info dumping or ranting to Remus or Janus

Slowly and ever so slowly he begins to rant again during conflicts but only if Remus or Janus is there

Not as an intrusive thought (thot) but instead as mediators

Whenever Logan starts to get off topic into something irrelevant or confusing Remus or Janus pulls him back into reality

“Don’t forget to breath Logi~”

“Logan darling~, breath for me my dear”

And it works, Logan takes a breath and goes for a simple short info answer

Nobody is surprised when Remus and Logan start dating

Roman is actually surprised anyone can stand Remus, Janus tells him not to worry about it

#thomas sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #breath #info dump #sanders sides #headcanon #platonic loceit #romantic intrulogical #romantic roceit #platonic intruloceit #platonic demus #angst #roman #logan #virgil #janus #remus #patton

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Communication Issues (AT:TTSIMBCMEOAYSFIL)- Chapter Four and Epilogue

Ao3,   MasterPost

Ah, the finale!!! Finally it is here!! My brain hurts from editing all this fuckery in one day :/

Relationships: Romantic Analogince, implied romantic Moceit

Warnings: Arguing, yelling, swearing, miscommunication (obviously,,,), crying, an overindulgence of fluff, naps.

Word Count: 8,136

The door to the main house might have snapped off its hinges- but it doesn’t matter, and you don’t care. You throw it open with excessive force, essentially falling outside as you trail behind Virgil. He’s quicker than you by far; he’s practically a blur, in fact. 

You think Janus is calling after the both of you. After notifying Virgil of the situation, he’d been trying to calm you down, but evidently that hadn’t worked. You don’t even glance back at him, sprinting as you come upon the Clubhouse. 

As soon as you reach it, you fall against its wall, dizzy and panting. Virgil is already there, waiting for you to be ready. Or, perhaps he himself is just nervous, because he hasn’t attempted to push the door the rest of the way open. As it stands, it’s open just a crack, casting a sliver of golden light outwards. 

Virgil speaks up, and you can easily confirm that it was his nerves stopping him. 

“What… what do we do now?”

You glance at him, just from the corner of your eye. A small, anxious smile contorts your face.

“Well, we have him cornered, don’t we?”

Hesitantly- and perhaps confusedly, as he has no way of understanding just what you’re referencing- he nods.

“Well, it seems the time has come to profess our love for him,” you say it simply, as though that’ll make it somehow easier for any of you. You want to believe it’ll be as simple, if only for your own sanity. 

Virgil opens his mouth, clearly aiming to spit out some contradiction, but at this point the blood rushing in both your ears has cleared enough for you to actually hear the world around you. And what you hear, from inside this quant shack, is desperate and feverish arguing. 

Virgil steels his expression, inhaling sharply. He stretches his arm out and shoves the door open, crossing the threshold on long, unsturdy legs. You follow his lead without a moment of hesitation. 

As soon as you enter, you see him, right across the room from you, and you aren’t in the least prepared for it. 

He (blessedly) hasn’t noticed you or Virgil, yet. He’s much too busy ranting incoherently at Patton, who is… also here, for some reason.

You can’t make out a word he’s saying, and there’s no way to tell if Patton can either. He’s shaking, pale and clearly panicking. But it’s him. He looks a wreck, the poor thing, but he’s really here.

You glance at Virgil, seeing his reaction matching closely to yours; lips parted in shock, face slack, his hands fisted at his sides. You’d take the time to admire him, too, if not for your current circumstances. Instead, you inch a bit closer for his support, tapping his wrist to draw his attention. He takes your hand without question, holding it so tight it’s nearly painful. 

Luckily or unluckily- you can’t be sure- the burden of speaking up doesn’t fall on either of you. Patton spots you but a second after you enter, catching sight of you over Logan’s shoulder. His eyes widen, his expression caught between relief and terror. Whichever it is, it’s very toothy. 

You try to flash him a smile back, but he’s already turned his attention back to Logan. 

“Logan-! Logan, listen, please?” He cuts the rambling off, tentatively reaching to grab the logical trait’s trembling wrists. 

“What?” He snaps back, harshly.

Patton takes a deep breath, staring intensely at the floor. When he looks up, he makes direct eye-contact with you first, and then Virgil, his shoulders hiking up anxiously. You steel yourself as Logan follows the gaze, turning around and finally seeing you. 

His eyes are big and round, his arms are shaking. His gaze sweeps over you both, stopping quite obviously on your connected hands. 

You worry, briefly, that he’ll slam a mask down over his face, as he so often has before to contain such strong displays of dismay as this. But Logan does quite the opposite. In less than a second, that shocked and vulnerable expression is swallowed up by a furious ire, one that you can’t help but shrink back at. Virgil squeezes your hand, as much for your comfort as it is for his own. 

Logan’s mouth opens, and you almost believe he’ll yell at you- scream his lungs out and hurl insult after insult- but, yet again, he challenges your expectations. 

“Patton, let go!” His eyes constantly flit between Virgil and you, but he refuses to address either directly, “Let me go, I’m leaving!”

Virgil’s frozen in place. You draw breath to speak, but Patton makes a very aggressive and un-Patton-like gesture that pretty clearly communicates one thing: Shut it, Princey. You take the order, folding your unoccupied hand just under your sternum.

“Logan, just hear them out, please? Please trust me?” Patton pleads, one of his hands closing over Logan’s shoulder in a sturdy grip. The facet’s struggling lessens; he breaks his death-glare at you long enough to turn on Patton, his look softer but not by much. 

As if to give more incentive for Logan to trust him, Patton releases his arms, stepping back and giving him space. He holds his hands up, palms out, in a show of peace.

“I- I don’t think this is a good idea,” Logan hisses it out in a rush, like you and Virgil aren’t meant to hear.

It’s at this point that Virgil tries to interject, but yet again Patton waves his hands around angrily. It’s a strange form of some made-up sign language that probably means something like: For the love of God let me handle this for two seconds before you jump in. Virgil, too, takes the order.

“If it doesn’t go well, then you come right back to me, ‘kay? I’ll take care of you, and you can tell me you told me so all you want, and I’ll never ever make you do anything like this again,” Patton gently assures, resting his hand on Logan’s shoulder, “But I really think you should let them explain themselves. It might help more than you think it will.”

“I- How do you know-?”

“Because they-” he looks pointedly at you, and you try not to shrink any further into yourself at the intensity he carries, “-have been so worried about you. Oh, don’t give me that look, they have- you know I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t believe it. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I thought it would hurt you, kiddo.”

That mollifies Logan a good deal, he’s leaning into Patton’s touch. His gaze flickers to the both of you once more, eyes narrowing, before he’s huffing out a sigh.

“Okay. I- okay.” 

Patton grins briefly, much too wide and much too cheery for the circumstances, and he draws back. He walks, slowly, from the couch to the door- to you. He pauses, sending you and Virgil A Look. He leans in, not for very long, and whispers so only the both of you can hear. 

“I know what’s going on here, and I do believe you. I want to believe that you have this handled. But if you two ever- and I mean ever- hurt that boy again, even if it’s an accident, then don’t you expect me to vouch for you again.” 

His expression is deadly serious. 

You nod, as hard and as fast as you can.

“Thank you so much, Pat, I owe you one- I owe you so many,” Virgil whispers back, leaning towards Patton as he steps away from you. That firm, scolding expression melts into fondness at the words, and Patton shakes his head. He turns his back, and with that, he leaves. The door clicks politely shut behind him. 

And it’s silent.

Logan won’t look at either of you, determined to glare at the rug instead. 

But he’s not going anywhere. 

But neither is this interaction. 

But he’s here.

Where can you begin?

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Virgil blurts, and yeah, that might be a start. Not an eloquent one, but asking for that would probably be a bit over-expectant anyway. 

Logan doesn’t respond to the apology. His shoulders hunch up further, his arms hugging around his middle. The anger is practically radiating off him in waves, such a fierce passion that it’s kind of screwing with your senses in that area.

But, you realize with a start- he isn’t just angry. No, it’s more complicated.

You look at Virgil, for confirmation. You find it in his mismatched eyes, swirling with someone else’s emotions as well as his own.

Logan’s scared. 

“Spe- Logan,” you stammer, “I know that this seems, uh, not good, but we really didn’t mean to upset you. The timing, it was just-”

He snorts, humorlessly, standing up much straighter and crossing the room in just a few long strides. He glowers down at you, then up at Virgil, face flushed. 

“Well, I’m sure you regret it now. It’s not quite as funny anymore, is it?”

“It wasn’t funny at all!” You shout. 

“Oh, I’m inclined to agree with you, Roman.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it!”

Logan makes a very, very awful and frustrated sound, tugging a hand through his hair.

“Oh, I’ve come to see that many things I thought that I knew about you are wrong!”

Virgil shoots a concerned glance between the two of you, but you talk over him all in a rush.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, if you’d just let us-”

“Let you what? Mock me again? Make a fool out of me?”

You growl, sharp and animalistic, tugging your hand out of Virgil’s and gesturing wildly. And then you make a bad decision. 

“How are you such a horrible fucking listener!?”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, sucking in a breath as though you could take them back in. Virgil gasps, short and shocked, and his eyeshadow darkens down his cheeks like a waterfall. 

It’s quiet only long enough for Logan to really process, to really work himself up, like he’s about to berate you with even more fervor. It’s almost frightening.

“I’m a bad listener?! Because I seem to recall that the both of you, last time I tried to talk to you, laughed in my face! How’s that for ‘listening’, hm? Did you even think about what I was-! When I was trying- I was trying to say-”

Virgil’s panic abates enough to make room for confusion. He leans forward, cautiously reaching for Logan.

“What were you trying to say?”

Logan winces at the distortion, hitting his hands away before they get anywhere near him, snarling.

“That I cared about you, so much, and I- I wanted to do well by you, even though I knew it would only hurt me in the end. Because I wanted you to be happy together, and that was more important than- than my own feelings. I had to leave you be, I knew it, but you just wouldn’t- you-!”

He’s not making any sense, dammit. He loses steam, drawing in gasping breaths. Exhaustion bogs him down, making him look weak and frail; he’s growing resigned to the situation, and his own words, as though he thinks they’re already out of his control. 

It breaks your heart.

“I wanted it,” he gasps, “I wanted a part of what you had, badly. But I knew how ridiculous that was, and I was trying to tell you as much. I was giving you the out, so to speak, from me and my company, but you...” 

It’s as though all his anger from mere moments ago has evaporated like steam. He’s curling in on himself, his face tilted down. His voice shrinks to barely more than a whisper, nearly inaudible.

“You didn’t have to laugh at me.” 

Virgil jumps, like he’s broken from a trance, and wordlessly jolts forwards and scoops Logan up in his arms. The side struggles, but Virgil’s grip is unrelenting, nearly lifting him off the floor.

“Okay, that was your time to talk, now it’s ours,” he gives you a very serious Look, “Right, Roman?”

“Oh- yes, right,” you step forward, much less confidently than Virgil, and wrap your arms around the both of them. It is the Pinnacle of an Awkward Hug (mostly because Logan has not stopped trying to escape), but Virgil seems to think that it’s the right course of action, and you don’t have any other leads to follow. 

“Okay, point one: we weren’t laughing at you because you- uh, cuz you had a thing for us, I guess.”

“We were laughing because you were being stupid!” You tack on, somewhat-unhelpfully, “You thought we liked each other more than we like you, that was the stupid part.”

“Yeah,” Virgil nods,“Cause you were right about one thing, L. We- uh, we like each other. A lot-” you snort at the phrasing. He gives you a sharp glare before continuing. “-But we like you, too.”

Logan stands frightfully still, his arms pulled up uncomfortably in some weak attempt to keep distance between his body and both of yours. 

“What- what are you talking about?”

You meet Virgil’s eyes in question. He nods, shifting so he can wrap an arm around your waist as well. 

“We love you, Teach,” his breath hitches, but you choose to take it as a good sign, “I love you, so much. You both- both of you have done so much for me- oh, how couldn’t I love you?”

“You get me,” Virgil adds, smiling sweet and warm at you as he speaks to Logan, “You’ve always been there for me. You know how to, uhm, deal with me, better than anyone, I guess. So, yeah. I love you. And Ro.”

Logan pushes back against the both of you again, but this time it’s not an escape; it isn’t a fight. You let go of him, and Virgil in the process, and allow him to step back. He doesn’t go very far.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers, fragile, his head tilted to one side.

“Which part are ya stuck on, L?”

He glances at you, a positive whirlwind of emotion fighting behind his eyes. 

“You… I understand the both of you being romantically involved,” he starts, slowly, holding fingers up like he’s keeping track of points of data. “And I believe I understand my- my misinterpretation of your previous outburst, which is certainly a relief- though it does make me feel a bit silly for how strongly I reacted.”

“Oh, we’re all overemotional divas, sometimes,” you wave a dismissive hand, smirking at him. In return, he offers a small and unsure smile, and nods. 

“Yes. I just don’t quite get. Um. You- you and me?” His eyes widen after he says it, and you see a spark of something upsetting in them. It takes him a good deal of effort to say the next part: “You aren’t doing this just to console me, are you?”

“No!” You and Virgil shout in unison, horrified. 

“But you two are already perfect for each other!” He protests, “Your casual affection, your shared interests, your banter-”

“You say all that like we don’t have that with you, too!” Virgil interrupts. 

“That’s different.”

Virgil rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Is it? Or do you see it that way because you can watch us, but you can’t exactly watch yourself?” 

Logan quickly becomes concentrated on the question, opening and closing his mouth in lieu of a response.

“We can watch you, though! Like  the way you and Virgil always seem to talk without ever talking, and just, like, shrugging at each other. It’s kind of creepy,” you point out. Virgil hums in agreement, a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah. You and Ro’s whole poetry thing is literally- like, there’s no platonic explanation for that. It’s gross.” 

“I-” Logan cuts himself off, his eyes widening, “Perhaps you have a point.”

“We do. Look, it took you yelling at us about how obvious we were being for me to get off my ass, to actually do something about my crush on Princey here, which probably says something about perspective.”

Logan hums, thoughtfully, a surprisingly subdued reaction. You feel a striking amount of pride well up in your chest. You bump your shoulder against Virgil’s as a sort of high-five, a gesture that he returns with a smirk. This is honestly going better than you thought it would! (...Though you were under the impression that this conversation would end in tears or violence, so that’s not a very high bar).

“You love me,” Logan says at last, his expression blank. 

“Yup!” You confirm, popping the ‘p’. 

“Ah. Alright, then.”

He pauses. And continues to be paused. For time enough that you grow unsure of yourself. Is he… processing it? You really don’t know what’s going on in that brain of his when he gets quiet like this.

“Yes,” he confirms nothing in particular to no one in particular, “I feel very foolish now, in retrospect.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Virgil chuckles.

“I’m not sure what to say,” Logan’s face breaks into a smile, wide and brilliant, “I just- wow, this could have been so easily avoided,” he places his hand on his temple, staring into space. He trembles a little, and you fear you’ve somehow managed to get him crying again. But then he doubles over, his arm around his stomach as he giggles uncontrollably. His laughing turns wheezy very quickly, as his breathing is interrupted constantly by little shouts of amusement. “Oh, this was all so absurd!”

You watch him, and very suddenly you remember a scene much like this, weeks and weeks ago. You understand exactly how he felt, then, when he saw you laugh for the first time in a long time. 

At this moment, his happiness is the only sight to you, and it is a beautiful one. 

Virgil lets out a soft laugh alongside him, hiding it behind his hand and biting his lip. Soon, though, he’s losing himself, and that sets you off too- and within seconds all three of you are cracking up laughing. Tears in the corners of your eyes, hands clutching stomachs, the works. 

You aren’t even sure what’s so funny! And that’s exactly what’s so funny!

It takes a while to settle down and sober up. You wind up on the floor, actually, before you calm down. You think Logan might be on the ground, too, but you aren’t very spatially aware. 

Virgil gains control of himself first, predictably. 

He rights himself, coughing into his fist, and fixing his hair. 

“So you’re okay?” He says to Logan, out of breath. 

“I have no idea,” Logan wheezes in response, “But I love you both very, very much.” 

And that seems to be about the jist of it, for all of you.

Epilogue:

The second you’re back inside, you fall backwards onto the couch without a second thought, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyelids hard enough for it to hurt. A groan- part exhausted, part relieved- rumbles up from your throat, and you sink your fangs into the side of your cheek to stifle it. You’re tired, sure, but you aren’t as much of a fucking drama queen as your- your boyfriends, actually. Cuz that’s a thing that just happened.

Fuck if you know how, by the way.

You feel the cushion by your head dip, the smallest bit, at about the same time that the cushion by your feet contracts abruptly. You huff, because you’re still a little bit of a drama queen, okay, and you’ve earned that right.

Long, spidery fingers tangle in your hair, brushing back your fringe and undoing your spiked up ponytail. At the same time, again, your legs are lifted just slightly before being dropped into a lap, and a large, calloused hand rests on your ankle. 

“I think I’m gonna sleep for, like, five months,” you mumble, letting your arms fall to the side and shoving your face into the couch cushion.

“While I’m fairly sure you were being hyperbolic,” Logan says, his hand catching on a tangle in your hair and slowly working it out, “I wouldn’t be opposed to some rest”

You snort. An obnoxious noise, but they seem to be like it anyway, so you try not to hate yourself too much for it. 

Roman makes some sounds that vaguely indicate he wants to talk. You wait. He’s quiet for a good, long while, his nails scraping along the loose threads of your ripped jeans. You crane your neck up to squint impatiently at him; him and Logan have this bad habit of disappearing into introspections mid-conversation, and it’s very annoying.

“I-” he starts, stops. Makes more sounds. “Hmm.”

You wait. After about ten seconds, you kick him (very lightly!) in the ribcage. 

“I was just wondering,” he finally says, glaring at you, “If you two are really feeling alright. What’s on your minds, or- how are you?”

Ah, there it is; the deceptively simple check-in question. Logan’s hand tenses in your hair, almost imperceptibly. You reach one of your own up to meet his, tracing your claws around his knuckles soothingly. 

“Um, better than earlier,” he says, “Much better, actually. Though I’m still a bit on edge, I suppose.”

Roman nods, a very soft look on his face, before glancing at you. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, too, and it almost makes you squirm. You let go of his hand in favor of fussing with your sleeves.

“’M good. Comfy,” you mutter, attempting a shrug despite your horizontal position. 

“Are you sure?” Logan prods, leaning over you concernedly. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, grinding your teeth. 

“I don’t know. It’s fine.”

Yeah, that’s not gonna work.

“It’s not a big deal.”

Getting further away, Virgil.

“I’m really fucking tired, okay?” Alright, a little harsher than strictly necessary, but that’ll do. It gets a laugh, at least. “Like, I’ve got no idea what I’m supposed to say or do anymore, and I don’t have the energy to think about it. I am happy, though. Or, like, relieved. I guess I wish I were happy under- I dunno, different circumstances?”

The hand in your hair moves, slipping from your swoopy bangs and cradling the side of your face upside down. You let Logan tilt your head up. It’s a very odd sight, seen from such an angle, when he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. When he pulls back, you feel at least a little less like a living corpse.

“Gross,” you sigh. 

“You know what I think?” Roman muses, tapping rhythmically against your leg. 

“I never do in the slightest,” Logan replies.

“You can do that?” You ask.

He whacks your knee. You hiss. He ignores this.

“I think,” he carries on, “That we would be less tired if we took a nap,” he stretches his arms up with a yawn, as if to emphasize his point.

“That would be nice,” Logan agrees, “If it weren’t for the fact that I’d… prefer not to return to my room at the moment.”

You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, again, before speaking up.

“I’d also prefer that you not do that. And we all know my room isn’t a good place to sleep.”

“Nor Roman’s, really. It’s very energetic.”

“Right, so-”

Whatever you’re trying to say is cut off as Roman once again lifts your legs up, shifting them to the side. He kicks off his boots, shifts around a bit, and proceeds to drape himself all over you inelegantly. You make a few vague noises of complaint and discomfort before he finally slots himself into a somewhat acceptable position on top of you. It’s not too difficult; he’s burly, but he’s still so very very short and bendy. You wrap an arm around his waist, holding him to yourself.

“So we’re staying here, cuz I already got settled,” he says with finality, his face pressed just under your collarbone. You arch your head back, toeing off your own sneakers and letting them fall to the floor as you look up at Logan. 

“Can’t argue with that, can we, L?” 

He looks distinctly exasperated with you, but you know him well enough to see that it’s really thinly veiled adoration.

“I could argue, should I be inclined.”

“That’s for sure,” Roman mutters, “We could get you worked up about anything if we’re annoying enough, specs.”

He’s very huffy about that comment (Roman has a point, though), standing up and stopping short when Roman whines at him.

“Where are you going?” He drags the last word out. You poke him in the ribs to make him shush. 

“I’m getting you a blanket, and a more suitable pillow for Virgil. You can hardly sleep comfortably like that.”

Roman groans- which is also an annoying noise- and snaps his fingers. A light, large, and fluffy blanket falls over the both of you instantly, in conjunction with something puffy and soft expanding beneath your head. You hum, sinking further into the conjured objects happily.

“Ah, right,” Logan mutters to himself.

“Good? Good, now come here,” Roman disentangles one of his arms from around you to make grabby hands at Logan.

“Oh, it looks cramped as it is. You know, I’m not that tired, anyway.”

You’re the one to get annoyed with him this time, making a sloppy gesture with your free hand. The couch stutters in place, almost like a glitch, before eventually succumbing to your will. The cushions extend way out past your cramped up little spot, making the large piece of furniture look more like an oddly shaped bed than anything else. 

“Good enough for you?”

Logan blushes brightly, refusing to make eye-contact with you. He mutters out something that might be an ‘it’ll do, I suppose’, or some other slightly stubborn assent, and shuffles over to you. You lift the edge of the blanket up when he reaches you, letting him fit himself comfortably against your side. He does so reluctantly, prompting you to drop the covers in favor of grabbing him by the hip and pulling him against you, pressing your face into his slightly ruffled hair. His breath hitches. You fight the urge to laugh.

Roman hums contentedly, uncurling from you just enough to clumsily get a limb around Logan’s shoulders. You’re decently certain that he’ll wake up whining about how sore his arm is from the position, but you leave that worry for later, letting yourself finally, finally relax.

Logan lays with his arms pressed awkwardly between his chest and your torso, but the tension steadily eases from him. Within minutes, he’s wrapped around you and Roman, nestled into your shoulder. You do laugh, just a little, when he does something akin to nuzzling you. You rub small circles into his hip with the tips of your fingers, slipping further and further from consciousness as you do so. 

You hear Roman muttering something, but you aren’t sure if it’s directed at you. All you are sure of is that his voice is rumbling and groggy, soothing you even further into sleep. The last thing you feel, before finally slipping away, is a messy kiss delivered to the side of your neck. 

<<<!!!>>><<<!!!>>><<<!!!>>>

You aren’t really unconscious, but you wouldn’t consider yourself ‘awake’ either. You lie comfortably in a middle zone between the two, surrounded by an amazing, burning warmth that starts with your skin and sinks deeper into your core the longer you feel it. You turn your face into it, shifting your body to press that much closer to the heat.

But then, a very small little part of that heat decides to jab you sharply in the shoulder. You groan, batting it away. It persists, prodding you a few more times. You huff, prying your eyes open with a good deal of spite towards the source of disruption.

It is- predictably- Roman. Grinning, loopy Roman, whose face is just inches from yours. You might move back, but Virgil’s chest only accommodates for so much space, so you have to accept the compromising position. 

“What?” You hiss, trying to surreptitiously rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“You look so cute when you’re sleeping,” he answers, dreamily. 

“You’re creepier than Remus, has anyone ever told you that?”

You feel a small bit of pride at just how affronted Roman looks. 

“It’s not creepy,” he argues, “It’s romantic.”

“Close enough,” you respond, smirking at him. He glares balefully at you, but it’s very difficult to take him seriously when he looks just as tired as you feel. Speaking of: “Why did you wake me up, then, if I’m so aesthetically pleasing while asleep?” 

He actually looks a bit sheepish at that, giving an awkward one-armed shrug. 

“I don’t know, I just… I woke up and got this urge that I should maybe. Talk to you,” his voice breaks out of whisper repeatedly; he’s atrocious at volume control. Virgil stirs, grumbling something unintelligible and tightening his grip around the both of you, but he doesn’t seem to be waking. 

Roman gives a long pause, just to make sure he’s in the clear, before continuing. “It seemed important. Maybe it’s not, though.”

You give a breathy little laugh, rubbing against his ribs with the pad of your thumb. It’s a strangely intimate gesture, and one that- until recently- you never thought you’d get the privilege to offer. 

“You’re very impatient, Roman.”

“And you aren’t?” He inquires, quirking a brow. You ignore the comment. 

“What did you want to talk about?” You whisper, much softer, more serious. He meets your eyes for just a second, hesitating. There’s a pause of a good few minutes- in which his fingers play on the knolls of your spine and his eyes become increasingly unfocused- of absolute noiselessness. You wait patiently, not quite minding the peace of it.

You might be falling asleep again when he does find the words to answer, bringing you to attention suddenly. 

“I missed you this week.”

The words, short and simple they may be, drop a heavy weight onto you. You can’t identify the specific feelings- maybe guilt? Or remorse? Perhaps frustration? Well, regardless, something twists in your gut. The feelings are almost relieving, because even if they’re horrible, at least they’re there, which is quite refreshing from this past week. 

You exhale, shaky. 

“I missed you, too. Although, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure if it was a week or not.”

Roman’s face flits from bittersweet to confused in a matter of seconds.

“What do you mean?”

Your face heats in embarrassment. You bury it in Virgil’s hoodie- which is admittedly a childish reaction, but you can’t bring yourself to care about that.

“Don’t tell him,” you gesture to the being you’re currently clinging to, “I don’t want him to concern himself too much.”

Roman purses his lips, making a small and concerned noise in the back of his throat. 

“Well, how bad is it?”

You sigh, a defeated and borderline pathetic sound.

“I just… I seem to have lost track of time, this past week. Truthfully, you could tell me it had been just a few hours, or that it had been a month, and I’d believe you.”

He gasps softly, which you think might be a little bit over the top, but alright. 

“Logan, are you saying-”

“I had no idea how long I’d been in there, yes.”

Roman’s quiet- deadly quiet- for a horrible stretch. You look up at him, knowing that you’re probably more of an emotional wreck than you’d like to be. To your surprise, the first thing he does is make a whining-crying sound, adjusting so that he’s holding the side of your face in his hand. He presses your foreheads together, breathing in a hitched and shallow way. Have you made him cry? Goodness, maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place, if it has this kind of effect on him. 

You’ve always hated seeing him so distraught. He looks so much better when he’s grinning, when he’s happy and proud. But something about the rawness of his look now- it’s almost painful. 

“I can’t believe I-” his voice cracks, “I should’ve done something sooner. Oh, mi amor, if I’d known, I-”

“No, that’s not fair,” you interrupt, in nearly as broken a tone as his. “I’m the one that kept myself in there. I- I made you leave me alone in the first place!”

Virgil shifts in his sleep; you bite down on your lip, harshly. 

“Oh, please,” Roman snaps, but he’s also taking care to stay quiet now, “When you first found me in such a sorry state, the both of you were at my side in an instant. I should’ve known to do the same. I really should have broken your door down, no matter what Patton said.”

“Wait-” you nearly laugh in surprise, “You and Patton had a conversation about sieging my door?”

He gives you a teeny little smile, a shadow of pride lingering in it.

“It wasn’t a conversation so much as it was him physically restraining me, but you get the idea. You know, I probably could have pulled it off if I tried at night instead.”

“I’m sure you could have, Roman,” you say, looking oh-so fondly at this reckless, ridiculous creature that you’ve somehow fallen in love with. The tension this exchange started with is quickly disappearing, much to your relief. “Although I don’t know if you would have gotten through to me, unfortunately. As it is, Patton is a very good mediator.”

Roman chuckles softly, his face screwing up in embarrassment. 

“Yeah, we could use one of those, couldn’t we?”

You hum in vague agreement, angling your head enough to give him a small kiss on the cheek. He gasps again, this time very obviously trying to be Extra, and he pulls back sharply. You roll your eyes at the shocked face he puts on, but you can’t hold up your frustrated façade when he leans in again and peppers your face with kisses. You fail quite spectacularly, in fact- your face flushes bright, and your smile grows uncomfortably wide. It feels wonderful, to finally have this, after the wanting and wanting and wanting. 

Roman pulls back properly after that, his eyes twinkling and crinkled at the corners. You notice now the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and his forehead, so often covered by makeup. You’d ask why- they’re beautiful- but that might be rude. You resolve to admire them quietly, while he gives you the opportunity. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight now, of course,” he purrs, massaging just under your eyes with his thumbs. You get a glimpse of bubblegum-pink nail polish before they fall closed, your sleepiness returning to you.

In your half-asleep, warm, adoring state, you find yourself muttering a sickeningly sappy sentiment- obviously, if you were in your right mind, you’d never say it- just before drifting off. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

<<<!!!>>><<<!!!>>><<<!!!>>>

Your back hurts, your arms ache, and you really need to pee. You’re also acutely aware of a heavy, uncomfortable weight pressing down against your sternum. You force your eyes open, only to find them stinging and also sore, somehow. Like, they’re eyes, how are they even allowed to do that?

A groan escapes you. You’d very much like to rub your face, but unfortunately your arms are trapped by that pressing weight on you. 

The memories of what happened and where you are flood back to you then, bringing a small smile to your face despite your discomfort. Logan and Roman are pressed into either side of you, their hands intertwined and resting on your stomach. It’s obnoxiously sweet- seriously, you might gag. But, like, in a good way. 

The cuteness of the situation is enough to distract you for approximately thirty seconds, because then a sharp pain shoots up from your lower back. Yeah, this is ridiculous, you need to get up. 

You try- very carefully- to shoulder your arms free. You manage it after way too much awkward maneuvering, and then you really don’t know where to go. You’re squished between them, and all three of you have gotten your legs very tangled together. The position is odd, but maybe if you could just find your center of gravity, you could teleport? But that would risk dragging one or both of them with you, and that probably wouldn’t be a good way to wake up, would it-?

Logan stirs next to you, lifting his head up with a small, sleepy sound.

“V?” He mutters, his typically slicked-back hair springing up in messy curls, falling into his face. 

“Oh, hey,” you give him an apologetic look, watching as he gropes groggily for his glasses, “Good, uhm- morning?” You glance up at the clock, confused by the timeline this author has fucked up so completely. You slept through the night, and it’s about five-forty in the morning, apparently. Much earlier than you’d ever wake up, but to be fair the three of you fell asleep at a 3rd graders bed-time. 

Logan grumbles something unintelligible, locating his glasses on the floor by the couch-bed and shoving them onto his face. 

You take the opportunity to free yourself from the little nest you’ve made, struggling up onto wobbly legs and leaning on the arm of the couch for support. Jesus Christ that was horrible for your back. 

“What…?” Logan trails off, looking at you with squinted eyes behind his thick frames. The sight makes your lips quirk up in something like a smile.

“Nothing, L, I just had to use the bathroom,” you explain, keeping your voice hushed so as not to disturb a noticeably snoring Roman.

He nods, once, before shuffling back to his spot on the couch. He flops down, kicking his legs under the covers and curling up against Creativity. If you were more prone to cuteness- which you aren’t, for the record- it would probably be a little (a lot) bit adorable. 

“’M not goin’ back to sleep,” he grouses, unconvincingly, “Just… laying down… to wait.”

Wait for what? You don't ask, choosing instead to settle your eyes on the sight of your two partners huddled close together. Okay, so it’s cute, so what? Lots of things are cute, no one has to make a big deal out of it!

You exhale through your nose, breaking your gaze from them long enough to actually move on to what you got up for. It doesn’t take long, and when you return you hover by the couch for a moment. 

A sort of restlessness- a very familiar one- has made its home in your chest. You rub at your eyes almost harshly, itching at the gunk caught in the corners. In all your soreness, you find it pertinent to stretch; arms above your head, then down to your toes, and in a few motions you're in a somewhat impromptu yoga routine.

By the end of it, some ten or fifteen minutes later, you feel a little bit less like a sloppily patched-together ragdoll of ligaments and muscle. You seat yourself gingerly in the corner of the sectional, just close enough to the pair of snuggling sides that you can run your spindled fingers through Roman’s hair. 

You pull your legs up beneath you, sitting criss-cross and summoning your headphones and laptop. They’re a bit far across the mindscape, but they come easily enough with a sharp pull. 

You settle in with a good horror flick, pulling your headphones over your ears and letting yourself zone out. You stay that way for an indeterminate amount of time, idly watching the suspense that plays out on screen while carding your hands through Roman’s hair (no matter how tempting it would be to ruffle Logan’s curls, you resist the urge, knowing that he can’t stand touches to his head). It should be boring- maybe even aggravating, sitting still for so long when you are the embodiment of jitters and jumps- but it isn’t. It’s something… peaceful, maybe, would be the right word. Or content, as you are with them, waiting patiently for Roman and Logan to awake.

And they do. Well, Logan does, about half-way through the film you’re watching. He props himself up on his elbows, straightening his glasses and looking up at you. 

You hit the spacebar to pause, sliding your computer off your lap and onto the cushion beside you. 

“Good morning. Again,” you send him a teasing smirk, watching him move up into a sitting position very slowly. 

“Good morning,” he replies, his smile awkward, “I must have been more tired than I first assumed.”

You hold back a small laugh, giving him a feigned look of importance.

“Well, you know what they say about assuming.”

“As… Sue, ’n me…” Comes the mutter from below your hand. You look down, somewhat surprised, to see Roman turning over in a semi-conscious state. You have no idea how awake he actually is, or if he’s just a weirdly perceptive sleep-talker- but either way you burst into a bout of startled chuckling. 

That seems to wake him properly, his head jolting up with a cut off snore. You pull your hand from his tangled hair, watching as he struggles to orient himself.

“Good morning, Roman,” Logan greets.

“Mornin’, Babe,” he responds gruffly, making Logan’s face flush red. He coughs, awkwardly. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it, Babe,” you mock, the statement serving to darken his blush considerably. To be fair, your statement isn’t entirely untrue; your boyfriend is very fond of pet-names, so you’ve become very accustomed to them. And possibly a bit appreciative of them. 

Roman’s managed to sit up enough to slump back against the couch cushions, taking the blankets with him and wrapping them around his head. His eyes are narrowed enough that they look closed, and you are reminded of just how much he hates waking up early.

“Why are we awake?” He growls. 

You shrug noncommittally, gesturing to the still-elongated couch on which you all sat. 

“My back hurt.”

“We did fall asleep at about eight, last evening,” Logan points out. His eyes widen just after he does, pressing his index and middle fingers against his temple in sudden frustration. “Oh this will be horrible for my sleep schedule!”

You snort, shoving him lightly in the shoulder.

“Ah, yes, the worst of our worries.”

He glares at you, and your smile widens. Partially because messing with him is funny, and partially because you know your fangs make it hard for him to focus (which is also very funny). 

“I- Well, it’s crucial to keep a consistent sleep schedule, because you need to-”

“‘Maintain your circadian rhythm, to ensure a higher quality of living’,” you and Roman parrot, in near unison. You hardly blink at the coordination, but Logan seems very startled.

“Ex-actly,” he mutters, bemusedly.

“You can spare us the lecture this early, Teach,” Roman tells him, “Cuz we already seem to have it memorized.”

“Ah,” a beat. “Good.”

There’s a short, companionable silence; Roman is still waking himself up, Logan seems deep in thought, and you briefly turn your attention back to the movie. A few minutes pass, and Logan stands. You look up at him in question as he shifts the couch back into its normal form, making his way across the room.

“Someone ought to get started on breakfast by now,” he says plainly, disappearing into the kitchen. You shrug, shifting your headphone back over your ear and settling in. 

Roman sinks out some ten minutes later, clattering around upstairs as he gets ready for the day. The morning sun is now clearly visible, the light filtering through the blinds. It probably won’t be long before Patton’s up and about, bringing with him the energy that the day really needs to get started.

When Roman returns, dressed up in some fresh clothes, he drops down beside you and leans his head on you. He presses his ear against the outside of your headphones, watching the movie over your shoulder. 

It’s nearing the end, so of course he has to ask you question after question after question about the plot. You pretend to be annoyed, but you answer them anyway, letting him gradually piece together what’s happening. His commentary is, as always, never-ending and loud, but again you tolerate it. It’s more fun like this, anyway.

The whole time, you can distantly hear crackling, and very clearly smell something delicious from the kitchen. Logan’s always been the best chef out of any of you, even if he doesn’t use the ability as often as he could- something about the technicality of it, or the precision needed, or whatever it was. 

You and Roman are bickering over the credits by the time he’s finally done, coming back into the room smelling of bacon and batter. You look up from your (pretty pointless) argument, smiling at him. 

“Hey, L.”

Roman glances up briefly, flashing a smile before going back to his impassioned diatribe that you were only half-listening to in the first place.

Logan hesitates by the doorway. You can feel his eyes boring into you from those few feet away, drawing a very exasperated sigh from you. You back out of the credits with a couple aggressive taps, giving a pointed look to the still-rambling Roman. 

“What?” He snaps, scrunching up his nose. You narrow your eyes before not-so-subtly directing the glance to your third, still hovering just inside the living room. Roman follows your gaze, his argumentative look turning quickly to exasperated understanding. 

“Hey, specs!”

Logan jumps, obviously having been locked away far into his own head. 

“Are you comin’ over, or what?”

He doesn’t move, but he does look a hell of a lot more embarrassed.

“Breakfast is ready. I- um, I didn’t want to… interrupt…” his voice goes quiet, he glances down at the carpet. 

“Alright,” Roman announces, a bit loud considering how close he is to your ears but okay, “What have we told you, Teach?”

“Yeah,” you agree, shutting your computer with a click and setting it onto the coffee table. “C’mere, stupid, and pay attention to us before everyone else wakes up. We’ll eat with them, later.”

He gives a small laugh, but does as he’s told. As soon as he’s within range, Roman pulls him down and wraps a leg around the taller being, essentially placing himself in his lap. You aren’t quite as clingy, this early in the day, but you do press your shoulder to his. 

Logan’s stiff at first, but just as he did last night, he slowly settles into the touch. You figure it’ll probably be this way for the next week or so- because the same happened with Roman, however long ago when this all started. 

That hits you with a wave of nostalgia and deja vu- smothering most of your other thoughts with its familiarity. You and Logan, personally taking it upon yourselves to help Roman all the same, just a lot more platonically back then. You like to think that’s what started it all, even though you probably had a thing for Logan way before then (wayyyy before then). 

You watch, absentmindedly, as Roman and Logan argue over the TV remote, apparently trying to settle on something to watch. It’s as sweet as it is annoying, a common theme that the two of them share in many aspects.

And God, it hits you what emotional wrecks they are. In a rare burst of confidence, you feel proud that you could be there to help these two get their shit together, relationship wise. Despite both of their intelligence, you’ve somehow become the competent partner. 

Partner. Boyfriend. Whatever you’ll call it. It feels nice to say, about Creativity and Logic. 

You sigh, resting your head on top of Logan’s. He looks at you, questioningly, because he can always tell when you get thoughtful. You smile at him, giving a half-shrug, because you know he knows what that means. It’s good, not a big deal.

Roman wins the fight, eventually, if only because Logan’s off his game from being the primary center of attention. Which is even more like your first night together; Roman setting up some queer cartoon to watch while the three of you cuddle on the couch, content. 

You exhale, long and slow. You really have gone soft for them, haven’t you?

But, you really can’t say that you mind. Because...

They’re worth it. 

Tags: @enbyfriend16 @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

#my writing #sanders sides #ts #fanfic #fanfiction #analogince #logince #analogical #prinxiety #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #ts fanfiction #roman #logan #virgil #platonic logicality #patton #ahahhh im finally done im crying #aaaaAAAAA

[delimeful]

Repressed

warnings: fear, self loathing, treating a person like an object, captivity, takes place way pre-AA which is why things are. particularly bad between virgil and the others, dark sides mention 

-

Virgil exhaled sharply in frustration, watching as Thomas considered the ongoing auditions despite his continued efforts. Couldn’t the idiot see that going up there would only end in humiliating failure?

Thomas took another hesitant step forward and Virgil groaned internally, pulling on the villain mask in a practiced motion. He pulled a handful of memories to the forefront of Thomas’ mind, all of them moments where he was unprepared on stage and forgot his lines, stumbling over words and making a fool of himself. 

“You’ll only mess up and get laughed at. You’ll be a campus-wide joke and nobody in this department will ever let you audition for anything ever again. You haven’t even practiced properly.” He ranted, coating every syllable with conviction. He knew it would happen. He could see the potential for disaster after disaster like it was a movie montage in front of his eyes.

Thomas took a deep breath, counting the seconds as he inhaled and exhaled. Virgil swore loudly, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the dreaded and familiar sensation of ice in his veins, freezing him in place. 

“No, no, no! You do not get to ignore me!” He chanted, but Thomas was already running through mental exercises to calm himself down, as though what he was planning to do wasn’t monumentally stupid- 

Thomas put on a smile, reassured himself that he had prepared and messing up wouldn’t be the end of the world, and continued forwards, shuttering Virgil off from his consciousness completely. His vision blacked out, the icy sensation filling him until he was numb from head to toe. Ignored. Repressed. He bit down on the terror clogging his throat, yet another familiar feeling. He knew what came next, this time.

Sure enough, when his vision cleared, he was back in his room. He sat up slowly, grimacing at the wide bedspread laid out before him. His room was almost devoid of features, empty and dimly lit, nothing familiar or comforting in it. It made sleeping harder, of course, but he had to keep it this way anyhow. His role was the villain’s and he couldn’t afford to show weakness, couldn’t afford to give the other Sides any ammunition to not regard him with respect borne of fear.

Still, he hated it the most when he was stuck like this.

At five inches tall, the bed Virgil was on stretched out wider on all sides than his room would be if he was normal sized. He could barely even see into the dimly lit corners beyond the bed. He contemplated just laying back down, letting his body succumb to the exhaustion he felt until he regained the energy to be present in the mind again. A thought of one of the Light Sides finding him like this was enough to dispel the thought. He was too exposed on the bed, so up he got. 

He trekked along the mattress, feeling the material barely give under his minuscule weight. He was really nothing like this. It just went to show how Thomas viewed him. A nuisance to get rid of, out of sight, out of mind.

Whatever. He realized pretty early on that that was how it was going to be after he got kicked out. He was barely able to do basic things like sinking out these days, cut off from the power he’d had as a Dark Side and still blatantly ignored once he’d been forced into the light. He had to carefully regulate every bit of energy he used in order to keep up his threatening persona.

He couldn’t stop doing what he had been created for, though, and he wouldn’t. Thomas’ safety depended on him, and if playing the villain was what worked, then it was what worked. His feelings didn’t factor into the equation.

Loud footsteps in the hall shook him out of his thoughts, and though he knew nobody was likely to venture into his room, he hurried his pace anyways, prompted by a growing sense of unease.

“Anxiety!” A loud voice called, and in the next moment, his door was swung open, banging into the wall behind it with a loud thud. Virgil yelped, diving for the small mound of pillows at the head of his bed. He twisted around, desperate to make sure he was hidden properly.

Roman stood in the doorway, hands on his hips as he surveyed the room with slight surprise. “I know you’re in here, Sweeney Odd. Hiding because you’re so ashamed of your latest failure?” 

Virgil grit his teeth silently. Of course the Prince would come to rub it in. It was probably his arrogance that convinced Thomas to try out in the first place. At this point, he would normally jumpscare the other side and get into a heated argument about what was best for Thomas, inevitably ending with him threatening Roman away from the threshold of his room. 

Of course, normally, Thomas didn’t shut him away this efficiently, and he had his perfectly normal human height to face Roman with. At this size… even looking at the creative side was slightly overwhelming. 

“Hello-o? Earth to Anxiety, I’m trying to gloat, here.” Roman looked around and took a step into the room, breaking his usual rule of remaining firmly in the doorway, and Virgil flinched back despite himself. He froze as the slight rustling of fabric caught the Prince’s attention. His face curled into a sort of apprehensive disgust, and he strode to stand over the bed in a few steps.

“I swear on my sword, Anxiety, if you’re keeping feral rats in here-!”

His muttering cut off as he shoved a pillow aside with a massive hand, and Virgil bolted for the crack between the bed and the wall. A fall from there would hurt like hell in his weakened state, but it would also put a barrier between him and the hateful giant above him. 

“Wh- Hey!” Roman thundered, voice sharp enough to sting his ears. A shadow fell over him, and he rolled to the side, barely missing Roman’s grab. “Hold still!” 

As if. Virgil twisted around to continue running towards his goal, but in the next second, a hand appeared in front of him as a living wall. He ducked away, and realized too late that Roman had predicted the move.

His other hand came down on Virgil and knocked him flat, a smothering weight pressing him into the firm mattress despite his attempts to claw his way out. He wondered for a moment if Roman had even realized that he wasn’t a rat, or particularly cared. If the creative side was just going to increase the pressure until something irreparable snapped.

“Gotcha.” Roman muttered, and plucked him up from the bed with ease. Virgil writhed, but the fingers around him were firm, shifting him around until he was immobilized in a fist. Roman raised him up to eye level, inspecting his find, and Virgil stopped the pointless struggling. He scrambled for his jerk persona, trying to find the right words to regain the power in such a situation. 

“...Anxiety? Is that really you?” Roman asked, opening his hand slightly to roll Virgil onto his back and poke at him, as though checking that he was real. He glowered, swatting ineffectively at the fingertip. He felt like a flipped turtle. 

“Yeah, no shit it’s me.” He snapped back, grateful when his voice barely trembled. “Weren’t you ever taught not to barge in uninvited, Princey?” 

Roman frowned, prodding Virgil sharp enough to make him exhale most of the air in his lungs in a pained whoosh. “That’s rich coming from you, Surly Temple. When have you ever been invited?” 

Virgil mouthed out the beginnings of a retort, but it came out as just a wheeze, still winded from the harsh treatment. Roman’s lips twitched up, smug. 

“You’re much easier to deal with like this, y’know.” The creative side informed him, a fingertip ruffling his hair hard enough to jostle his entire head. “Cuter, too.” 

Virgil’s shoulders rose up to his ears to try and ward off the fingers in his space, face hot with humiliation and fury. Still, the words caught in his throat. He’d known that at five inches, the normal-sized Sides would be giant to him, but it was different to have to face that fact head-on. Roman was overwhelming in every sense of the word, and with the Side’s penchant for carelessness, he was wondering if it was even possible to get out of this unscathed. 

Speaking of which, Roman’s grip was tightening slightly, and Virgil felt the heartbeat around him pick up its pace. His head jerked up to meet Roman’s eyes, noting the shadow that was forming under them, and the motion didn’t go unnoticed. Roman dragged his free hand over his face, inspecting his fingertips and finding the smeared dark eyeshadow on them. He rolled his eyes. 

“Ugh, this place.” He shuddered dramatically, and then in four simple steps, he was out the open door. With Virgil still clasped in his hand.

He jerked as he felt the power of his room slip away from him, leaving him unable to regenerate the energy to return to his normal size. Now, he didn’t even have the power to get rid of the bruises forming on his torso. He twisted in Roman’s grip. “No, no! Put me back, right now!”

Roman snorted, closing the door behind him and then pulling Virgil’s hoodie roughly over his head to muffle his protests. “I don’t think so, Dark and Stormy. This is too priceless for the others to miss.” 

Virgil’s heart seemed to stutter, blood roaring in his ears at the idea of all three of them seeing him like this. Weak. Helpless. He spoke again, words coming out fragmented and near-incoherent, but Roman didn’t even seem to be paying attention, a thumb pressing against Virgil’s side absently as he descended the stairs.

“Logan!” Roman said, gleeful, and cupped his hand over the parts of Virgil that were visible, enclosing him in sweaty darkness. Virgil felt nauseous with fear, pressing pointlessly against the gaps of his enclosure. Of course Roman would immediately run into the most intimidating Side of the Light Side lot, the one whispered about by Dark Sides. Logic. 

“Roman.” Logan responded, voice dry. Roman remained undeterred. 

“Is Patton around?” He asked, jumping the last few steps to the commons floor. Virgil felt a muted squeak squeeze out of his windpipe at the sudden, terrifying motion. 

“Not at the moment. He’s helping Thomas, though he should reappear in his room if you’d like to wait there.” Logan’s tone seemed to imply his hope for that outcome. 

“Nah, I’ll just show you first.” Roman responded, and before Virgil had a chance to prepare himself, the hands above him opened into cupped palms, Roman revealing him like a child showing off a prized insect to a parent. He certainly felt as insignificant as a bug at the moment.

Logan peered down, eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of him. “You have… animated a miniature version of Anxiety? Your dollwork has improved, though I’m sure Patton will disapprove if you use it for voodoo.”

Roman wrinkled his nose. “What? No, this is the actual Anxiety. I found him like this in his room.” 

‘Found’ was one way to put it. Virgil rolled to his hands and knees, grateful when Roman didn’t attempt to nudge him back into that splayed position, and scowled at the hand beneath him. He struggled to speak, his voice giving a few false starts.

“Yeah, and I’d appreciate it if you’d put me back in my room, you clueless moron.” He finally managed to bite out, unable to keep from flinching when Roman’s fingers twitched in response. 

However, when fingers suddenly pinched around his torso, lifting him up with a strangled yell, both of Roman’s hands were still cupped beneath him. He froze as he came face to face with Logan, the logical side holding him up with his legs curled between the pointer and thumb of one hand, and his chest and back held in place by the other. It was certainly a more secure hold than the loose fist Roman seemed to prefer, but Logan’s analyzing gaze made him break into a cold sweat. 

“Fascinating.” Logan muttered, his fingers sliding to the side until he had one of Virgil’s arms pressed between his fingertips. Virgil felt his bravery crumbling, watching most of his arm be completely concealed by such a tiny part of Logan. 

“Way to sound like a creepy mad scientist, Specs.” Roman said, settling onto the couch next to the chair Logan was sitting in. He was watching Virgil curiously, fingers drumming as though he wasn’t sure what to do with them anymore. 

“How did you enter this state?” Logan asked, not refuting the mad scientist jab at all. Virgil wondered if what Remus had told him about Logic dissecting people had been true after all. “Anxiety?” 

Virgil scowled, tugging lightly on his captured arm. “None of your business.” 

Logan hummed, releasing the pinching hold on the tiny Side’s arm to loop his fingers around his chest once more. Before Virgil could feel relieved, he saw the lenses of Logan’s glasses flare with holographic displays, facts and figures running through them too fast for him to decipher.

“At the auditions this afternoon. You acted up, and Thomas utilized some of Lily’s tactics to suppress your influence and proceed normally.” Logan stated, and Virgil swallowed thickly, feeling as though he would begin to hyperventilate if this went on much longer. Roman perked up, listening in as Logan continued. “Can I extrapolate that this is the result of that suppression?”

Virgil bit the inside of his cheek for a long moment before acknowledging that lying was pointless. He jerked his head once. “Yeah. Congrats, mystery solved. Now will you put me down, already?”

Logan stared at him consideringly and then glanced to the side. “I suppose.” 

In the next moment, he was moved quickly through the air and then deposited back into Roman’s hands.

“Not. What I meant.” He gritted out as the fingers curled up around him again. 

Logan sighed. “I assumed you didn’t want to walk all the way back to your room yourself. Roman can take you.”

Virgil wanted to snap that he’d take a twenty-mile hike over being stuck in a pair of hands for another minute, but Roman responded first. “I can…” 

He hesitated for a moment, and then nodded to himself once. “I can, but I don’t think I will.” 

Terror chilled him all over again. To the side, Logan tilted his head, brow furrowed and simple curiosity in his eyes at the prospect. “Why not?” 

Roman pinched the back of Virgil’s hoodie and lifted him up into the air in front of Logan, forcing the tiny Side to cross his arms to keep from slipping out of the article completely. “Hey!” 

“Because,” Roman said, ignoring his kicking legs and complaints, “if this is what happens to him when Thomas calms himself down, then all we have to do... is keep him like this. He’s harmless. Boom, Anxiety can’t hinder Thomas anymore.”

“What?” Virgil asked, shocked, so soft the other two didn’t seem to even hear it. He stilled completely, still swinging precariously in the grip. Almost worse than the idea Roman had proposed was the fact that he had a front row seat to watch Logan actually consider it.

“That could have unforeseen side effects on Thomas.” He finally said, and Virgil got to take one short, choppy breath of relief before Roman yanked the rug out from under him. 

“Oh, but that’s the best part! We can monitor Thomas, like… like an experiment! And if it seems like for whatever reason, this is hurting Thomas? We can simply put him back to normal.” Roman offered, genuine excitement coloring his tone.

Logan hummed, eyes alight. “I suppose that does make sense. An experiment…”

“What?” Virgil said, this time almost shouting the word, as though it was his last possible appeal for freedom. Maybe it was. “You can’t be serious- You can’t just leave me stuck like this!”

“I’m always serious.” Logan responded with an automatic gesture to his tie, mind elsewhere. Roman turned Virgil to face him, rolling his eyes as though Virgil was being ridiculous. 

“Oh, relax, Count Woe-laf. We won’t leave you stuck all alone to fend for yourself. After all, I certainly don’t want to have to watch where I step every moment of every day.” Roman said, joking tone contrasting heavily with the sickening feeling in Virgil’s gut. 

“In order to keep him from making his way back to his room and returning to normal, we’ll likely have to keep an eye on him.” Logan added, hand lifted to his chin in consideration. “A secure temporary living space would be best. We can inform Patton about it once we see how things go during the initial weeks.”

Roman grimaced. “Yeah... I love the little puffball, but he’s too easily swayed by emotion, even for Dark Sides.” He punctuated the phrase by tossing Virgil up slightly in order to catch him in a fist again. Virgil yelped, felt bile in the back of his throat, static in his ears and panic swelling in his chest. 

“In that case, I can take him.” Logan said, holding a hand out. Roman drew back, cradling Virgil against his chest as though he was safeguarding the last jar of Crofters. As though Virgil was a rare prize rather than a person.

“What? No, I want to take him. He’s much more fun like this, you’ll bore him to death.” 

Logan’s eyebrow twitched, and he exhaled mutedly. “Why don’t we just ask Anxiety who he wants to stay with, then?” 

Roman groaned, opening his hand a bit. “Ugh, no fair! It’s obvious who he’d choose.” 

“That’s no fault of mine.” Logan sniffed, looking down at Virgil expectantly. “Well?” 

He gaped for a moment, speechless. In the span of under five minutes, they’d decided that he was better for Thomas like this, and that they would ‘look after’ him as though he was nothing more than some… some mindless pet. Fury blazed in him suddenly, hot and reckless. 

“You’re seriously asking me which one of you I’d rather have as my fucking captor?” He yelled, incredulity and anger intertwining in his voice. “Neither, idiots! Let me GO.”

Roman scoffed, jostling him, but Logan was the one to speak. “Maybe we could afford to do so, if you’d make an oath to cease working against us and making Thomas’ life so difficult.”

Virgil recoiled, glaring despite the hot pressure behind his eyes. He was scared, he was so fucking scared, but he couldn’t leave Thomas alone. Couldn’t be bound by such an oath to be a bystander, not when Thomas’s happiness or life could be put in danger as a result. Even if it meant being stuck like this.

“Or if you’re so opposed to the idea, just go back to the Subconscious with the rest of the Dark Sides, already.” Roman suggested, frowning down at him. “Thomas clearly doesn’t want you here.” We don’t want you here, went unsaid.

Nobody wanted him anywhere. He was locked out of the Subconscious for daring to affect Thomas in such a direct, straightforward way. He was distrusted by the conscious aspects of Thomas for affecting Thomas at all. There was no winning.

“I can’t go back.” He managed to choke out harshly, as though what he said would make a difference. Roman sighed loudly, and Logan nodded, as though he expected as much from Anxiety. 

“In that case, we can simply trade off who watches him.” He suggested, gaining a reluctant agreement from the creative side. 

“Fine, but I get first watch!”  

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, and Roman took it as the concession it was. He stood, dusting himself off and then making his way back to his own room. 

In his hand, Virgil exhaled shakily, trying to calm himself down. He couldn’t afford to freak out. He just had to wait until Roman let his guard down, and then get out, no matter what it took. 

It was that easy. It had to be that easy.

#sanders sides #g/t #giant/tiny #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #haha uh oh #repressed #repressed anxiety au #raa for short #writing #my writing #blug. oh god the general taglist

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 3: Delirium

(We’re ready to shout.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 3: Delirium

Word Count: 3403

Relationships: none specified, although logince, roceit, and loceit can be interpreted as you like

Warnings:  Practical joke gone wrong, borderline delirious behaviour, accidental physical injury (cut on the forehead), slurred/frantic talking and implications of panic. Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: this is based on the hc that paradoxes physically effect logan and put him out of commission for a while. idk if it truly fits with the prompt, as i took a small liberty in the definition of delirium, so sorry if this isn’t what y’all are expecting. also, i know this is kinda late, but it’s still the third in my timezone!

It was supposed to be a joke.

It was just supposed to be a prank, absolutely harmless. It wasn’t meant to hurt him, it was just supposed to confuse him a little bit! He never wanted this, never wanted to hurt Logan. He’d never hurt their nerd, wouldn’t come at him with malicious intent.

They had all noticed how Logan reacted with the whole “snake eating its own tail” thing, how his words danced dizzy circles around themselves in a fervent scramble to rationalize the metaphor. It was funny at the time, so Roman thought it’d be okay! He, Virgil, and Patton all discussed it, and they’d agreed after only a little bit of convincing. They thought… they thought it’d be funny to tell Logan a few paradoxes, just to see if he’d get confused again. Patton loves jokes, and Virgil thought it’d be funny to see Logan attempt to make sense of something that can’t be made sense of, and Roman just wanted to see their nerd squirm, to tease him like they always do to one another. It wasn’t ever meant to be hurtful, or with the express purpose of making him upset. They thought he’d just slap Roman on the arm and it’d be in good-natured fun and they could all have a good, hearty chuckle! They were… they were supposed to laugh about it.

Logan didn’t laugh, not like he was meant to.

It’s not like Roman knew, going into it, that Logan wouldn’t be able to handle it. Of course he went off on that rant in one of the older videos, but he was snapped out of it easily, so they just assumed that it’d be okay, that Logan would be okay. The three of them had chuckled to each other, exchanged sneaky glances as they approached Logan who was sitting on the couch reading a book. Everything was fine, everything was relaxed, just a chill day. And then Roman plopped down next to him, stifled a giggle as the other two did the same (albeit less dramatically than he did), and leaned in close.

“This statement is false,” Roman whispered into Logan’s ear, leaned back with a shit-eating grin, and snickered when Logan stopped to process it. Taking inspiration from their resident snake was Virgil’s idea; although the liar’s paradox is simple, it’s effective, as all paradoxes should be. Maybe… too effective, in retrospect.

“This… what? If your statement is false, then... then that means that the claim that the statement is false is also untrue, which would mean that the statement is actually true. But… if the statement is true, then the claim that the sentence is false should also be true, which goes directly against the previous claim. I-- I-- what? How can a sentence be both false and true at the same time? The-- the sentence-- it’s true? And it being false must be true, too? But-- I-- how can-- t-- the st-- statement--” Logan rants frantically to himself, eyes gradually getting wider and more distressed as his words pick up their pace. He’s rambling to himself, alone in his thoughts, far into his head despite them being right there beside him. Logan pushes himself to his feet, stutters around sentences with wild eyes, aborted words like he’s a glitching machine. And then he’s clutching his hair in his fists, pulling harshly and his eyes are watering and he looks confused, and bewildered, and Roman feels such an insurmountable sense of dread well up in his chest.

“I can’t-- I-- c-- can’t think-- s-- stop-- I-- I… c’n…” Logan manages to get out, coming down from his outburst with words that slur into one another, such a juxtapose from his regular eloquence. Then Logan starts laughing, despite everything, and it makes everything so much worse. Why is he laughing? Patton looks horrified, and so does Virgil, and Roman probably looks worse. Because… because, what the fuck? There’s no way that a simple joke has done this, there’s no way. It’s impossible. It’s just a paradox, for crying out loud! It couldn’t have hurt him like this. (Roman couldn’t have hurt him like this… right?)

It takes Logan’s violently shaking hands, pulling hard on his wild locks, ripping a pained whine from his throat to intermingle with the hysterical, dazed laughter for Roman to break out of his stupor, and he finally surges forward to pry the logical side’s fists out of his hair. Logan looks through him, unseeing as he stumbles his way around incoherent sentences and empty rationalizations, and then his words slur to the point of being unintelligible. His usual clipped tone has melted into something unrecognizable, so unlike him, and the way his eyelids slip closed and his knees give out, it scares the shit out of Roman. It leaves his breath choked in his throat as he rushes forward to catch Logan before he falls, desperate to save him, keep him safe. But then Virgil’s there, too, just as afraid and reckless, and they knock into each other, and they’re too late.

The dull, heavy sound of Logan’s head smashing into the edge of the coffee table and thumping on the floor is something that won’t leave Roman for a long, long time.

“Logan!” Patton shouts, high and thick through tears, and his fingers scramble to do anything he can to help, but there’s really nothing to do. Roman groans, rubs his shoulder where he and Virgil collided hard, and then ignores his pain to sit back up. He drops down in front of where Logan lays on his side, uses quivering hands to roll him on his back, and then fails to keep the cry from escaping his lungs when he sees the blood all over Logan’s head. It comes from a large gash on his forehead, spills over his cheek and soaks his hair and colours his face in a shade that makes Roman want to go beat up bad guys in the Imagination until he passes out from weariness.

“F-- Fuck, Princey, he-- what the fuck?! Why did he freak out like that? I thought-- I thought he was just gonna get confused like before! Why did-- fuck!” Virgil snarls, panicked and angry as he kneels down beside Roman to help. His voice is doubling, something that only happens when he’s particularly perturbed, and intentionally or not, it gives a pull to someone else who’s been absent for the whole ordeal.

“I didn’t know he’d freak out this badly! I thought he’d-- damn it, I don’t know! I didn’t… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Roman retorts, just as angry, but exhaustion and shame creeps into his tone, and he can’t hide the regret that colours his words and actions. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to help. Being faced with an unconscious Logan with his face slick with blood just makes him sick, and he plugs his nose to try to force the metallic tang from his senses. The prince’s hands don’t know what to do, how to move, and it seems like Virgil’s in the same boat, given his frustrated growl as he clenches his fists at his sides.

“Alright, alright, what’s going on here? The noise is absolutely lovely, but I really wouldn’t like to get back to my novel, so…” Footsteps patter on the stairs, lend themselves to a physical form as Deceit descends, and he sounds tired even through his villain act. He stops, tilts his head, and shuffles forward to observe the scene in front of him. He sees Patton, curled up into a ball on the couch with tear tracks on his face, Virgil, with his pupils blown wide and his nails digging into the wooden coffee table. He looks at Roman, who probably looks utterly devastated, and then he finally sees Logan, body splayed on the floor like a ragdoll. He sees the blood, the wound on the logical side’s face, and his expression morphs from weary annoyance to abject horror.

A strangled sound comes from the snake-like side, serious in a way that isn’t something the other sides see very often, and it’s that vulnerability in a moment of panic that causes Roman to immediately scoot out of the way to make more room for a third person. Deceit rushes over, looking far more worried than Roman was expecting, because he’s…. well, he’s Deceit. Deceit has never liked them, has only interacted with them outside of videos to tease and provoke. At least, that’s what it felt like. Surely, the other side shouldn’t care this much about the well-being of someone he barely speaks to, right?

“Shit, what happened?! I felt it, but I thought-- I thought one of you just stubbed a toe or something!” Deceit hisses, fear choking his words, sealing them in his lungs. He falls to the floor in front of Logan a gracefully as one probably could muster in this situation, which isn’t saying much, and immediately lifts Logan up and places his head in Deceit’s own lap instead of the floor. With a shaky exhale and an alarmed gaze that flits between everywhere and nowhere at once, Deceit waves a degloved hand slowly over Logan’s head, sealing the wound and cleaning the blood with a singular, smooth motion. The stitched-up cut is still there, since injuries like this can only be waved away by the side it’s been inflicted on, so it may just have to heal on its own.

Once he’s done, Deceit sighs, although not much less wobbly than before, and his hands come up to brush Logan’s hair away from his eyes. They comb through his tangled, dark hair, unknot the strands, and Roman almost doesn’t notice the smooth, glimmering scales that are usually hidden underneath bright yellow gloves. And then those scales are disappearing underneath Logan’s body, gripping under his knees and behind his back as Deceit lifts the still-unconscious side up off the floor.

“Wait, where-- what are you doing?” Roman asks, irritated with himself and scared for their friend. He doesn’t mean to make things harder, to fuck up more than he already has, but that’s nothing new, really, so Roman supposes he should be used to it by now. Once it’s come out of his mouth, Roman immediately shuts up, curls back in a sad, defeated sort of way, and maybe Deceit takes pity on him because of that.

“He needs to be in my room right now. It’ll help him heal faster,” Deceit mumbles, loud in the silence of the commons, and he looks down at the side in his arms in a way that feels more private than it reasonably should be. Virgil gets up off the floor and sits next to a still-distraught Patton, soothingly rubs his back even as his own jaw is tensed almost painfully, and he opens his mouth to protest. Deceit sees, tightens his grip on Logan, and shakes his head. “You… you still haven’t figured it out? I’m self-preservation. It’s how I knew something was wrong. I can feel the same pain when any one of you gets hurt, and I hurt extra on top of that when I’ve failed to do my job as a side. It’s my purpose, to protect you all, and to protect Thomas. I… my room will heal injuries over a short period of time. Logan only needs to sleep there overnight, and it should be gone by morning.”

Virgil, Patton, and Roman exchange glances, unsure and unsteady but do they really even have a choice here? Logan needs to rest, and if Deceit’s room will also heal his injury faster, then…

“Okay, but… can I come with? To say goodnight and make sure he’s okay,” Roman asks, small and guilty as he rubs his neck. He glances up, sees Deceit nod once in affirmation, and then he’s following the snake-like side down the hallway and around the corner and down the stairs, into the place that none of the light sides ever go. It’s admittedly also the first time Roman’s been down here, having been too scared to go before now. He doesn’t really know what to anticipate, but given his brother’s adoration for the place, he guesses it isn’t going to be pleasant.

So Roman kinda expects the stone walls. It’s cliche, but fitting. He also isn’t too surprised to see the long, red rug disappearing into the darkness at the end of the hall, isn’t shocked when there are torches attached to the wall acting as the only sources of light. It’s very dungeon-esque, fitting in the way that Thomas has split them up, and Roman almost feels uncomfortable with the knowledge that they’re only like this because of him and Patton’s combined efforts to sort them into groups based on things they used to believe. Of course, Roman still doesn’t trust Deceit yet, but he doesn’t necessarily hate him either, and his brother is… his brother. He hates him, but he also loves him, because he’s family. And no matter how much he despises Remus’ disturbing language, their constant fights and teasing and taunting, he still looks back fondly on when they used to play Knights vs. Warlocks, their respective role choices a surprise to no one. Roman doesn’t hate Remus, nor does he hate Deceit. He thinks their side of the mindscape is dreary, and boring, and kinda creepy, and maybe they like the aesthetic, but Roman can’t get over the one thing he was surprised by coming down here-- the cold.

It is so cold, a chill that seeps into his bones, locks his joints in place in a way that forces him to shuffle rather than stride. Every breeze feels like a gust of icy wind, and Roman can imagine that if he were barefoot, he might slip and fall because this whole place feels like it should be covered in inches and inches of hard ice. Roman shakes, quivers in the frigidity of the air, and follows along behind Deceit to the first door on the left. It’s outlined in bright yellow, and his logo is in the middle, clean and simple. It’s minimalistic and stylish, very different from Roman’s door, which is plastered in every kind of artsy or creative thing he can stick up there. Drawings, magazine cutouts, stickers, paintings, beaded necklaces and fairy lights and a wreath that stays year-round. They’re so different, in so many ways, and Roman is starting to regret not bothering to get to know Deceit more.

“It’s so cold… won’t Lo get sick?” Roman asks as they walk through the doorway, hugging himself to preserve his body heat for as long as possible. Deceit’s room is interesting, because despite the whole dungeon/cave aesthetic they have outside, the inside of his room is pretty normal… almost. It’s square, with a bed in the corner, a side table with an odd-looking machine on it, a desk piled with papers and CDs and pens, a bookshelf loaded with all sorts of novels, a closet and a bathroom and a plush rug and an enormous floor-to-ceiling aquarium filled with all types of species and colours of exotic-looking fish. It’s unexpected, and breathtaking, and it’s no wonder Deceit is here all the time. Roman could probably look at them forever, if he wasn’t sure he’d freeze to death after 10 minutes of marveling.

“He’ll be okay. I… I have heaters, an-- and a lot of blankets, and I’ll put the monitor on him to make sure he’s doing alright,” Deceit says, almost shyly, quiet and shifty in what Roman assumes has been caused by his own intrusion into Deceit’s private space. A fish swims closer to where Roman stands, shimmering shades of red and gold, and he huffs out a little laugh at his fish twin. Shifting his attention back to Deceit’s words, Roman relaxes at the reassurances, feels a lot better knowing that Deceit will give Logan ample care, but then his brain replays the sentences spoken once more, and he doesn’t understand.

“Wait, what’s ‘the monitor’?” Roman asks, brows furrowed as he rubs his arms in a way to regain some lost warmth, and he glances at the fish once again. It hasn’t moved, only stares at Roman with those odd eyes, dark and mesmerizing. Then its gaze flicks in the direction of Deceit and Logan, so Roman’s attention naturally follows.

Deceit looks like a deer caught in the headlights, a muted panic in the way his eyes widen and his mouth turns even further downwards. He lays Logan gently down on his bed, nestles him between the mound of blankets, and then begins to work on covering him up as much as possible. “I, uh… it’s a heart monitor. Since I’m cold-blooded, I have to use it when I sleep to alert me to when my body temperature is too low, or… ah, my-- my heart will slow and eventually stop without any kind of adjustment. I can’t produce my own body heat, so I need the heaters and blankets to make sure I don’t die in the night. It’s-- The cold is always worse at nighttime, so.”

And. And Roman has no fucking idea what to do with that. Is he concerned? Horrified? Distraught? All three? He doesn’t know what to feel, only that he’s filling with shame and disgust for himself once again. Deceit, while not always the friendliest, hasn’t ever been outwardly, plainly cruel to them, and yet… this is his life? Deceit has had to deal with the fear of dying every single time he goes to sleep at night, and Roman has been so caught up in himself and his “hero vs. villain” games that he just needlessly drove them further apart? Deceit lives in such a cold, dreary place, the polar opposite to the environment he needs to live in to survive as a side who is literally part-snake, and Roman has flaunted the warmth of the light sides without a single care as to how it must feel to be in his position? Deceit has been alone, suffering all this time under Roman’s nose, and Roman didn’t even notice?

God, he’s such an asshole. He has to do something about this, has to fix this somehow, but that’ll have to wait until Logan is okay.

Roman frowns, sighs as he walks over to sit beside an almost fully bundled-up Logan on Deceit’s bed. He just stares for a moment, drinks in the sight of a version of his nerd that’s just sleeping, that hasn’t been hurt by Roman’s stupid, reckless actions. He shudders, and he doesn’t know if it’s from the cold or from Logan, and he reaches out a hand to softly card through the sleeping side’s hair. He wants to apologize, beg for forgiveness, grovel at his feet if he has to, anything to make this right again, but Logan needs to rest, and Roman needs to make sure that Virgil and Patton are okay, so he strokes the logical side’s cheek one last time.

As he pulls away, he also hooks his pointer fingers under Logan’s glasses and lifts them off his face to make sure they don’t get damaged while he sleeps. Roman folds them up neatly, sets them down on the side table where Logan can reach them, and then inhales through his nose with closed eyes. He takes a moment to silently say sorry, to forgive himself just for now until he can ask for it from Logan later, and then he’s opening his eyes again.

The aquarium really is beautiful, and the way the light reflects off of the fish’s scales is incredible. The light refracts, casts beams onto the walls, and it feels like the whole room is underwater, too. Logan would fucking adore it, if he were awake, and Roman has a feeling that he and Deceit will get along just fine. He maybe even starts to believe that everything will be okay, gives a small smile when he stops at the door to look back one more time.

And if Roman notices how much Deceit’s hands tremble, how he gently curls a small, scaled hand protectively around the side of Logan’s face as a reminder that Logan is real and okay and not going anywhere, it’s not like he’s gonna say anything about it, anyway.

#whumptober2019 #no.3 #delirium #ts sides #sanders sides #ts logan #logan sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts deceit #deceit sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #sympathetic virgil #ts patton #patton sanders #sympathetic patton #remus is only mentioned #ambiguous relationships #all relationships are unspecified #loceit #roceit #logince #roloceit #? who knows #platonic lamp #tw injury #jasper's writing

[intrulogicalshenaigansaskblog]

Frankenstein

Word count: 1524 Warnings: book throwing, Remus, suggestive sexual stuff, censored swearing. Anything else, let us know!! A/u note: Hi, so...first post. We worked hard but most of it was messing about and we did it in like, one day so don’t judge.

Logan sat on the couch in the main common room, eyes glued to a particularly interesting book he'd found in his archives. He recalled when Thomas had read this book once, but he didn't pay too much attention in trying to remember the contents. It was always a thrill to read an ending you'd forgotten.

 Logan would have been able to finish the book and read the ending which he yearned for, if Remus hadn’t snatched the book from out his hands and thrown it across the room. “LOOOOOO!” Remus yelled.

  Logan sighed, distraught. He pinched his nose, adjusting his glasses slightly.

  "Yes, Remus?" He asked, annoyed.

  "I have an idea!" Remus beamed, obviously excited to share said idea.

 “An idea worthy of throwing a book across the room?”

 “Yes! Obviously!” Remus cackled quietly. That would be weird if it were anyone but Remus as that was his laugh.

  "What is it?" Logan asked, already exasperated.

 “Frankenstein.”

 "Yes, what about it?"

 “We should do Frankenstein.” Remus continued to beam. Logan looked at him confused.

   "Are you suggesting we do the doctor? Or are you suggesting we copy his actions?" Logan asked, unsure of the answer. He slightly hoped it was the second option.

“..Both? The second first though. Cause, honestly. That doctor kinda hot.” Remus shrugged. He stared at Logan, unblinking.

"So? Do you wanna?" He asked, wanting confirmation. He would still try it if Logan said no, but it would go horribly wrong.

 Logan thought about the offer. It's not like he had anything else to do, besides read his book, but he was pretty sure Remus would perhaps toss it out of his hands again. But then again, creating Frankenstein's Monster would be an interesting experiment.

  "Fine." Logan agreed, standing up. "However, do not throw my books again."

“I make no promises!” Remus sunk them both out to a dark room before Logan could say anything else.

 Logan stared, in what he admitted, was awe. It seemed to be a lab of sorts, which is what was needed for the construction of Frankenstein's Monster, including a dead, stitched together body which Logan thought best not to ask about.

  "This is impressive." Logan complimented.

  "Isn't it!" Remus cackled, skipping around the room, "I made it underneath my tower! Gives off more of a spoopy vibe!" Remus grinned evilly, tapping his fingers together rhythmically, like Deceit would do.

Logan simply sighed, used to Remus in character by now.

  "Shall we get started?" Logan asked, a small smile on his face. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but he had always wanted to execute an experiment similar to this. He would have asked Roman for help, however, Logan had been too prideful to ask. Just waiting for a fateful day to come to him. Strange it was one spent with Remus.

“Dibs on being Igor!” Remus snapped his fingers and the lights started flickering, adding to the foreboding atmosphere.

"I believe I wouldn't have it any other way Remus." Logan smirked, snapping his own fingers, giving himself a slightly used lab coat. He did need to match the theme of things. Remus hunched his back, smiling to himself. His plan had worked! And now.. He could make a dead body alive.

Remus looked over at Logan and gave a mischievous smirk.

"Wow, I was right. The doctor is kinda hot." Remus winked, which just turned into a slow blink.

Logan blushed, but glanced at Remus absentmindedly.

"Let's think about that later, Remus. We have life to construct." He gave a large smile, this was going to be a rather fun experiment.

“Yes master.” Remus snickered quietly. “Just tell me what to do.”

Logan pushed up his glasses, his eyes holding a dark twinkle. “Pull the lever.”

"Yes master!" Remus said, his voice sounding scratchy. The amount of dirty things running in Remus' mind after saying Master only twice. But he had time for that later. He had a lever to pull!

  Remus raced over to where the main lever was. He made this area, so of course he knew where it was. He used his strength to pull the old (despite it being made that day), rusty lever.

  Logan watched in wonder as a small hatch in the ceiling opened up. Logan had always watched movies or read the stories based on this event, however, being able to actually be in the event caused a sensation of glee to wash over Logan.

  "Perfect!" Logan laughed, growing into character. If he was to be Frankenstein in this scene, he might as well play towards Remus' ways of acting. 

The lightning shot down to the pole, starting to power the massive machine as bolts of electricity shot out toward the two acting the scene.

  Logan winced slightly at the beam of light, but Remus stared at it in awe. This wasn't his first shot at looking towards an immense sensation of light, there was the sun sometimes. After a few minutes of flashing light and Remus evilly cackling, the room went dark, half of it destroyed.

“Please, please, please, please, please…” Remus quietly begged it worked. He would have a new friend!

  Logan looked at the destruction the two had made. Fascinating. He called over to Remus.

   "Are you alright?" A silly question to ask, considering the fact they both were basically invulnerable in this realm. 

   “No. The body hasn’t risen yet.” Remus pouted. Almost in sync to his words, movement came from the table to monster laid upon. Logan quickly glanced over to it, excited. Had they done it? He wondered. Of course they probably have. Logan was there, and with Remus as an added Creativity entity, they were bound to create something.

 Remus’ eyes snapped to the body as it slowly rose to a sitting position, a loud groan echoed throughout the room.

  Logan throws his arms up in the air, giving a dramatic flair that he would usually give credit to Roman for doing.

  "It’s alive!" He uncharacteristically cackled.

 Remus started doing a dance, random wiggles and bobbing his head. “We made a Frankensteeeeiiiinnn!” He sang to himself.

“Actually. The doctor's name is Frankenstein. Victor Von Frankenstein. The monsters name is Adam.” Remus stared blankly at Logan's small rant.

  "Adam, huh?" Remus asked, he stared the monster the two pieces of personality made. "Imma name this one Eve then." He grinned. Logan gave out a sigh that had a hint of laughter to it. Of course Remus would name it similar to it's counterpart.

  "Eve works for them." Logan grinned. As he stared at the creature, he realized that this was the part where Dr. Frankenstein disowned the monster and it started to get attacked. Logan didn't want that for their monster. 

 “First things first.” Remus went serious. Odd, he never did that. “We need to terrify Roman.”

  "Agreed." Logan nodded, smiling rather cruelly. Perhaps Remus was a terrible influence on him. However, he couldn't deny that messing with Roman wouldn’t be a blast.

Remus cricked his neck and fingers, stretching before snapping his fingers to get them all in Roman’s room. 

  Roman’s room was basically a palace in one room.

  "Your brother never ceases to be over dramatic, does he?" Logan asked. 

  Remus smiled. "It runs in the family."

 “Get out of my room!” Roman growled from the messy desk he sat at.

   "Aww! Hi bro!" Remus smiled, waving happily. "What you working on?" He asked, walking over to Roman.

   "Nothing of your concern Re." Roman rolled his eyes. He yelped at the low groan of the monster as it placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder, looking over at what he’d been doing. 

  “WHAT THE F*CK?!”

  "Hey! No cursing in front of my f*cking child!" Remus lectured. Logan coughed.

  "Our child, actually." Logan said, before actually realizing the words he had connected together. Remus wiggled his eyebrows in response.

 “Did you make that..in bed?” Roman was very concerned.

  "Yes!" Remus grinned.

  "No. We did not." Logan sighed, "We made them in a laboratory." Logan shrugged.

   "Of love." Remus wiggled his eyebrows again. Logan rolled his eyes. Roman looked between the two like they had lost their minds.

 The light creative side stuttered incoherently before finally managing a “Why?”

  "Well, why not?" Logan shrugged. However, Remus' reply was not the same.

  "Because when a father and a father love each other very much-!" Remus was stopped by an exasperated Logan.

   "It is because we wanted to recreate the Frankenstein monster." Logan said.

 “Their name is Eve and we are great parents!” Remus clapped slightly, jumping on the monsters back.

  "You two are mad." Roman deadpanned. Returning back to his work. Remus stuck his tongue out. 

   “Mad scientists in bed!”

   "Stop with that." Logan snapped, although he did find it rather… Humorous in all frank honesty. 

   “Sorry master! Igor be good now.” 

   "Logan what has my brother done to you?" Roman asked, in horror. He shook his head, "You know what, I don't want to know. Never mind. I'll probably find out later anyway." Roman groaned. Logan wandered up to Roman's desk and surveyed the area around it. Including the contents on the desk.

#frankenstein #Igor #master #Logan #Logic #Remus #Dukey boi #Wrote together! #TS sides #Sanders sides #TSS #Roman #Eve #frankenstiensmonster #These bois odd

[dirtycreekwater]

Please Don't Leave Me

Prompt: 61. “I can’t believe you would do this.” & 79. “You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

Requested by: @leesacrakon

Ship: Platonic Moxiety ((dad/son… friendship dynamic? idk how to describe it lmao))

Trigger warnings: angst, anxiety attacks, disappointment, fighting kind of, kind of graphic self harm im sORRY, hurt/comfort, basically Anxiety is a sad/scared little cinnamon bun and Patton is a conflicted concerned & disappointed father. please be cautious of these things i don’t want any of you lovely people hurt or upset.

ok honestly im just sorry for everything you’re about to read. it’s heartbreaking. im gonna go before i get hurt by someone.

((any words that have the * symbol are Anxiety’s thoughts)) -

“I can’t believe you would do this.”

Anxiety winced at the words Patton spoke. They were laced with disappointment, and concern but also animosity; he hated it so much. Patton was like a father to him, and he let him down.

He didn’t mean to of course. He was just fed up with everything. He didn’t want to hurt Thomas. Only himself.

It was a day like any other. Logan was reading, and planning things. Roman was drawing, and coming up with ideas. Patton was baking, and learning new dad jokes. Anxiety was in his room crying, and having trouble breathing.

He was having another stupid attack, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to ground himself, bring himself back to reality. He also felt like he had to punish himself. So, why not kill two birds with one stone?

He decided to grab a razor blade, and make a few cuts on his arms. Nothing too extreme. Just the amount he thought he deserved. Just enough to feel something.

He unfortunately remembered that anytime the Sides got hurt Thomas could feel it too just a little too late.

He didn’t want that.

He ended up stopping after maybe five cuts on each arm so Thomas hopefully wouldn’t be too hurt. He stopped the blood, but didn’t bother to clean them or cover them. He just stared at them, and traced them with his fingers.

Of course Patton had to knock on the door, and come in at that exact moment.

Patton just looked horrified, and sad.

He didn’t say much. He just cleaned his cuts, and bandaged them then sat with him in silence for a bit.

Now here they are. Patton’s disappointed, and in disbelief, and Anxiety wanted to disappear.

“You know Thomas is probably in a lot of pain, and doesn’t know why right now? Why, Anxiety? Why?” Patton shook his head and looked away.

“I.. I’m sorry.. I forgot he could feel our pain.. I’m sorry.” Anxiety choked out. He was trying so hard not to cry again.

Patton felt bad. He wanted to hug him, and tell him it was okay, but it wasn’t.

“Anxiety…” Patton paused to think. He didn’t want to abandon him when he desperately needed someone, but he couldn’t even look at him right now. “I’m gonna go. We can talk later.”

Patton grabbed the razor blade Anxiety used so he couldn’t do it again, and stood to leave.

Anxiety was stood against his door before Patton could even start walking.

“No. Please don’t go.” Anxiety bit the inside of his cheek hoping it’d keep him from crying.

“Anxiety..” Patton sighed. This was really difficult. Being Morality he knew what the right thing to do was. He knew he should stay, and make sure Anxiety’s okay. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He needed to think for a little while.

“Please. I need you.” Anxiety begged, and Patton’s heart broke.

“I.. I didn’t want to do this. I just.. I deserved it, and I needed to feel something, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it ever again. I’m sorry.” Anxiety ranted so fast it was almost incoherent.

Patton stayed silent, trying not to cry. He wanted to help him so badly, but he needed to calm down first. He needed Anxiety to calm down.

Patton still said nothing. Anxiety was terrified.

*He hates me. He thinks I’m a horrible, disgusting person.

You are.*

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?” Anxiety asked sadly as he pushed off his door, and moved forward a bit.

“We need to take a minute, and calm down. I’ll be back.” Patton said as he reluctantly moved past Anxiety, and left.

But Anxiety didn’t do that at all. He didn’t calm down. He only got worse.

He fell to his knees, and covered his mouth with his hands so his screams would be muffled.

He screamed until his throat was on fire, and cried until his face resembled a river.

He was a broken mess, and all he wanted was Patton.

*Patton doesn’t want you. You’re a monster.*

“Shut up, shut up, shut up. That’s not true, that’s not true, that’s not fucking true.” Anxiety repeated this almost like a mantra trying to drown out his negative thoughts.

He didn’t want to believe them. They were probably right, but he still refused. He so badly wanted them to be wrong.

“Please, please.. please.. Come back. I need you.“ Anxiety was now begging, and pleading for Patton to come back to no one but the darkness of his room. He felt weak, and pathetic.

He wanted to scream out of frustration, but he couldn’t. All he could do was continue whimpering like a little baby.

He stayed like this for.. well he doesn’t really know how much time has passed since Patton left. Probably an hour.

Suddenly his doorknob was rattling, and door was creaking.

Patton had returned, and he felt even worse than he did before when he saw the state Anxiety was in.

“Oh god, kiddo. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking..” Patton cried as he knelt in front of Anxiety.

Anxiety looked up, and immediately clung to Patton.

Patton felt Anxiety’s fingers desperately grip the back of his shirt, and tears pour onto the crook of his neck where his face was pressed against.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you. I wasn’t thinking straight at all. God, I’m so glad I at least took the razor with me.” Patton whispered into Anxiety’s ear as he held him as close as possible.

“I’m sorry, Patton..” Anxiety choked out in between sobs.

“No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t intend to hurt Thomas, and he’s okay. You were the one that was really hurting, and I abandoned you.” Patton closed his eyes trying to stop the tears from continuing to flow.

“Please don’t ever leave me again, Dad..” Anxiety whispered into Patton’s chest.

“I promise I won’t, honey. I won’t. I’m here. I’m here, and I’m staying. I’m so sorry.” Patton repeated these words a few times so Anxiety would believe him.

They stayed like this for a little while. Holding each other, and crying until eventually Anxiety fell asleep.

Patton carefully lifted him up, and laid him in his bed. He then laid next to him. He was going to keep his promise, and stay with him the whole night. He pulled him close so he could lay his head on his chest, and wrapped his arms around him protectively.

They both slept peacefully in each other’s arms that night.

After this incident Anxiety had developed a bit of separation anxiety which of course caused Thomas to develop it too.

Anxiety was constantly with Patton, and always asking for reassurance that he wasn’t gonna leave him.

Thomas was doing the same with his best friend Joan.

Patton & Joan smiled, and promised they’d always be there every single time, never once growing tired of the others concerns.

Anxiety, and Thomas appreciated it.

#im so sorry #please don't hate me #thomas sanders #thomas sanders fanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #moxiety #platonic moxiety #patton sanders #dad sanders #anxiety sanders #self harm #trigger warning #tw: self harm #tw #olisfics