#sanders sides college au

[bastard-aziraphale]

the girlies...... <3 anamoceit is really just Unironically my ot3 at this point <3 love some romantic moxiety + their QPP janus who would die for either of them at a moment’s notice <3 

#anamoceit #moxiety #moceit #anxceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanart #anamoceit uni #sanders sides college au #ts patton #patton sanders #ts janus #janus sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #digital art #digital illustration #fan art #t4t #art tag

[virgilsjourney]

Summary: Patton bites his lip. “It was nothing,” he says, as if without really thinking about it, then adds, “well, not nothing, but… just had a fight with my mom.” Before Logan can even think of a reply, Patton rushes to correct himself again: “Not like, not a big deal, but…”

Anything’s a big deal if it upsets you, Logan thinks.

Tags: Ficlet, College/Uni AU, POV Logan, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Late Night Conversations, Hopeful Ending

Content warning: allusions to grief & depression; mixed feelings about a parent

Relationship focus: Logan/Patton (pre-relationship)

_____________

The first thing that makes Logan pause is Patton’s voice, subdued and abrupt: “Mom, I have to go.” He has never heard Patton be so short, especially not with his parents.

Sat at his desk, Logan stops working on his assignment, setting aside his pen to instead listen for more conversation from the other side of the wall. For a few seconds, there’s silence, but then he hears a creak, a thump, and a muffled, “For fuck’s sake.”

A mixture of surprised and concerned, Logan quickly goes to Patton’s closed bedroom door and knocks.

“Are you… okay?”

“Yeah,” Patton calls brightly—and Logan is perturbed to discover that the only reason it isn’t convincing is because of what he’s just heard.

“Can I…” He trails off again in consideration. “Can I come in?”

One moment. Two. Logan steps backwards; perhaps he shouldn’t have—

From behind the door, there’s a little sigh. “Yeah, sure.”

When Logan steps into the room, he can immediately deduce one of the problems: it’s freezing; the window has been blown wide open during the ongoing storm, meaning that the rain is being swept inside with some ferocity.

Patton is sweeping things off his desk, protecting them from getting wet. “I think I’ve broken the window,” he says, keeping his head down. He adds, a little bitterly, “Stupid me.”

Logan frowns. “I doubt you’re at fault.” He looks at the frame, assessing it, even though he’s certain that Patton’s reaction is not down to the window alone. “I can have a look…”

He sticks his head outside and tries to reach the handle. He stretches his arm out as far as he can. The rain is frigid, trickling down his hair and neck; blinking through rapidly obscuring vision, he can make out that a part of the hinges seems to have snapped—they hardly look like the sturdiest of things. When he jiggles the handle, it feels unreassuringly slack: he suspects that it might break off entirely if he fiddles with it anymore.

He lets go and moves back inside. “I don’t think it’s anything you’ve done,” he says. “It looks like it was going to happen anyway, and the wind just—”

“You—you didn’t need to do that!” Patton splutters. He gestures to Logan’s face and hair, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Let me get you a towel.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Logan is already cleaning off his rain-spattered glasses on his pyjama shirt—besides, he thinks, whatever temporary discomfort the rain brought was worthwhile if it resulted in Patton smiling. “Although, towels in general might be an idea…”

They collect a small bundle of spare towels to cover the desk. A brief search in the living room reveals a discarded, broken blackout blind that once belonged to Virgil; Logan props it up as best he can in front of the window frame and finds that it makes an adequate shield from the rain.

“Gosh, that’s so much better,” Patton says, clearly relieved. “Thank you so much, Logan.”

“It’s not a problem,” Logan says.

Patton sits down the bed. His arms are already sporting goosebumps.

Logan frowns again. “You can’t sleep in here, it’s too cold.”

As if to prove his point, the wind howls, the blackout blind rattling in response.

Patton shivers, then shrugs. “I’ve—there’s some extra blankets in the—”

Simultaneously, Logan says, “You can sleep in my room, if you’d like.”

Patton opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. “I—yeah, if that’s—as long as that’s—”

“Yes,” Logan says, patiently but firmly. He nods in the direction of his room and Patton stands to follow him.

After brushing his teeth, Logan returns to his room to find Patton already in bed. He’s lying down stiffly, tense, and Logan is thankful to know that it’s not due to being uncomfortable with the current situation: while they’ve not actually slept in the same bed before, they’ve had similar sleeping arrangements in the living room after movie nights and such.

“Mom, I have to go.”

He’d hoped that being removed from the location of the… occurrence—whatever it was—would have been enough to distract Patton so that he could get some rest.

Logan settles into his side of the bed and reaches for his bedside lamp before pausing.

“Is it all right if I put the lamp on to read? Only for ten minutes or so.”

Patton nods, uncharacteristically silent. His eyes are closed, one hand gripping a corner of his pillow tightly.

Logan hesitates in switching on the lamp. “If it’ll keep you awake, I won’t—”

“No, it’s fine,” Patton murmurs.

There’s a little click as the lamp is turned on. Logan reaches over again to pick out a book, but when he begins to read, he hardly takes in a single sentence. He turns the pages on automatic pilot.

Maybe it’s that: the background noise of pages being turned, the fact that it’s not completely silent, that prompts Patton to speak again.

“Did you—um, hear my phone call?”

Logan puts his book down. “Just the end of it,” he answers.

Patton bites his lip. “It was nothing,” he says, as if without really thinking about it, then adds, “well, not nothing, but… just had a fight with my mom.” Before Logan can even think of a reply, Patton rushes to correct himself again: “Not like, not a big deal, but…”

Anything’s a big deal if it upsets you, Logan thinks.

“She threw out some of my—like, it was really old, just a bunch of junk, but…”

“They were your things,” Logan says softly. “She shouldn’t have done that, not without asking you.”

Patton swallows, makes a vague noise—and Logan doesn’t know if it’s assent or disagreement. It somehow sounds like both.

“She…” Patton’s brow creases. “It’s just hard for her, this time of year, I mean, the seasons changing, and… She… she needs—distraction, you know? …Her dad died, around about now, I think, I…” He sighs in self-directed frustration. “I can’t remember the exact date. She never talks about it.”

His hold on the pillow tightens even more.

Logan lies on his side to face Patton, leaning on his elbow. Technically, the bed is big enough to ensure that neither of them would need to touch at all. Logan knows this.

He reaches out and brushes one finger over Patton’s knuckles until his grip relaxes.

Patton sighs again, now more of a thoughtful sound. “I was just a little kid, so I wasn’t, um, I didn’t really know what was going on, but I…” And now Logan suspects that Patton’s eyes are not closed from fatigue; but perhaps because things are easier to admit when he’s not looking at anyone. “I could feel it.”

“I’m sorry,” Logan says.

Patton laughs sadly. “It’s okay. It—it must have been so hard for her.”

“For both of you,” Logan adds gently.

Another laugh. Harsher. “What did I have to worry about? She spent so much time just—having to—to shield me from…” His voice falters. He continues, quieter than Logan’s ever heard him: “I don’t think she could ever bear to… to see me unhappy. Does—does that make sense? Because if she ever did, then she’d think she… failed. So, I…” A whisper: “I have to just…”

Logan stares. He has a wild, irrational thought to somehow invent time travel, simply so Patton could be told: you don’t have to; you never have to...

Instead, he exhales, long and slow, then says, “Patton, that’s not your job.”

“I know,” Patton says quickly, but it doesn’t sound like he knows at all. “And I know I can’t—we can’t get along all the time, that’s impossible, but whenever I’m… I just. I just feel weird.”

Logan thinks that Patton says ‘weird’ like he actually means ‘wrong’; like if he ever let go, feelings spilling out like ink on paper, someone would put a red line straight through them, brand them as inappropriate.

Logan reaches out once more and briefly squeezes Patton’s hand. It’s shaking.

“That’s not weird,” he says with conviction. “You’re not weird. Patton, you’re—you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. But you can’t… you have to be kind to yourself, too. Okay?” He pauses, chooses his next words very carefully, praying that they’ll be the right ones. “You don’t have to pretend. Especially not with me.”

Silence.

Patton opens his eyes. He’s crying.

Alarm jolts in Logan’s stomach. “I’m sorry,” he says hurriedly.

But Patton is shaking his head, over and over. His hand draws back to swipe underneath his eyes, and he laughs, teary yet smiling. “No, you don’t have to—I think I just—” His voice cracks. He sniffs, takes a few shaky breaths. “I think I really needed to hear that. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” Logan says.

Patton smiles in acknowledgement. Then, he looks off to the side in thought and nods to himself; and Logan can see the moment something shifts inside his mind. “I’ll call her… tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Logan echoes.

There’s a long moment where Patton just looks at him, and his breathing gradually slows into a calm, even rhythm. He blinks slowly. “I kept you from your book,” he says, words drifting into a mumble.

Logan raises an eyebrow with good humour. “I think I’ll live.”

“The light won’t bother me, promise,” Patton continues; Logan has to strain to hear him. “I’m too tired to…”

His eyes close again, but it’s different from before: there’s no longer any tension about him. He yawns, and Logan smiles; his heart aches with something soft, something protective.

Carefully, he gets hold of his book again. He doesn’t turn the lamp off until he’s certain that the sound of pages turning has lulled Patton to sleep.

#[spontaneously writes 1.6k out of sheer love <3] #sanders sides fic #logicality #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides college au #sanders sides uni au #ficlet series

[mousemalfunction]

The first additions to my college au headcanons!!

Logan and Pattons designs are done!! I'm working on the twins next!!

#art #illustration #sanders sides #thomas sanders #writing #patton sanders #logan sanders #human au #sanders sides college au

[pencilpat]

Remus and Remus from my human AU in some funky outfits! :D

refs: x x x x

#remus sanders #sanders sides #college au #sanders sides au #tss au #tss remus #sasi fanart #sanders sides fanart #tss fanart #ts remus #sasi au #my art #sanders sides remus

[haysgrove]

Virgil: do u know what to do in case someone faints

Logan: yeah. why?

Virgil:

Logan, noticing Virgil is paler than usual: Virgil. Why are you asking me that.

#based off me today FGDHDNDD #this could b college projection au or normal sides idk #college projection au #still just in case #sanders sides

[edupunkn00b]

The Gremlin and His Pocket Protector

Photo by Sean Bernstein via Unsplash

[ AO3 ] - Rated: G - WC: - CW: mild language - written for @ashtonisvibing in the Seasons Skirmish

Remus asks his brother's best friend to be his date at his roller rink birthday party.

“Hey, Pocket Protector! Wait up!” Remus called from the top step. Logan looked up just in time to catch him sliding down the banister separating them. He landed with a thud inches from Logan's feet, chains adorning his jacket clanking against the battered collection of buttons and patches that covered most of the worn leather.

“You are aware I do not even wear a pocket protector, correct?” Logan bit back a more acerbic reply as he glared at his best friend’s strange brother.

“Yeah,” he said, smirking back as though nothing could matter less than reality. “Your point?” Remus leaned in, one hand pressed against the wall just over his shoulder. The stream of students leaving that floor’s lecture halls flowed around them, parted like the sea by Remus’ shock of bright green hair topping his 6’4” frame.

“What do you want, Remus?” he inched toward his left, eyes searching for a break in the traffic for his chance to escape this conversation. He’d long ago gone through all the stages of Remus Avoidance: ignoring, shouting, even tattling when they’d all been back in grade school together. 

Unfortunately, the endless tenacity that had somehow gotten Remus into the same university as his inarguably superior twin was just as easily directed to his apparent favorite pastime: annoying the hell out of Logan.

“I want you to come as my date to my birthday party, of course!” Remus said, shoving a crumpled version of the invitation he’d helped Roman design into his hand.

Logan blinked up his’ manic smile before staring down at the gold foil invitation. “Your…”

“My date, yeah,” Remus nodded, squeezing in a little closer as a gaggle of freshmen moved behind him, nattering away about an upcoming final. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course I’m going!” A flash of irritation, too strong to hide, sharpened his tone. Remus didn’t seem to notice. Or care. “I am co-hosting the event.” The green-haired gremlin just nodded, smiling with too much teeth. “For your brother.”

“Oh, I know that,” he cackled, half-heartedly punching his shoulder. “But he’s got his own date already. I want you to be my date.”

“I am not attracted to your—” The lie died on his lips. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. He wasn’t attracted to Roman.

Thankfully, Remus was too distracted, staring up at a commotion on the landing above them. He briefly imagined he’d heard Roman’s voice, but his wish for an easy escape from this conversation he was in no way ready—would never be ready—to have was just that. A wish.

“So is that a ‘yes?’” Remus asked, smiling back at him.

“No, that is a ‘no.’” Logan said firmly, holding his books close to his chest as he worked his way into the crown leaving the building.

“But I’ll see you there!” Remus called after him, giddy with whatever scheme he’d devised to harass Logan further.

Logan didn’t bother to answer and instead moved with the crowd out to the Quad and off to his next class. He barely noticed the invitation still gripped tightly in his hand.

~

Remus grinned as he watched Logan maneuver his way through the throngs of slow-moving students. “It’s never going to work,” Roman said from the landing above, leaning over the railing to be heard over the midday tumult.

“Of course it is,” Remus countered, hoisting himself up and over the railing before taking the stairs up, three steps at a time. He shrugged, still smiling, at his brother. “He’s gonna be there, isn’t he?”

“He’s throwing the party!” Roman cried, eyes wide. “And since when do you actually like my friends?”

“Ew, I don’t,” he laughed, heading down the stairs and toward the door where Logan had just escaped. Roman followed, too much of a nosy bitch to let him get far. When the door swung open to release a squad of jostling frat boys, Remus caught just a glimpse of Logan’s raven hair out on the quad, shining in the sun. “Just that one.”

~

Heavy bass pounded inside the roller rink, muffled but not silenced by the door Logan let close behind him. He leaned against it, the June night air cooler than he’d feared. Or maybe it was just cooler outside compared to the muggy heat of fifty of Roman and Remus’ closest friends bouncing off of one another inside the crowded venue.

At least Logan had been able to convince Roman to limit the guest list with a Pairs Event theme. Even if it meant he would sit out most of the skating. But that was satisfactory. Logan had had his fill at actual skate competitions back in high school.

All things considered, the party wasn’t bad and there were parts Logan genuinely found enjoyable. It seemed Remus’ big plan had been to stand him up—Roman’s chaotic twin hadn’t bothered to show up for his own birthday party. Logan sighed and leaned a little heavier against the door. All the more reason to ignore the little spark that danced through his mind whenever he spotted that tuft of neon green.

A giggling couple approached, side-walking up the steps toward the entrance. Their mocked-up ‘competitor’ bibs half-hanging from their backs, the taller of the pair carried a large bottle partially hidden in a brown paper bag. They paused as they drew nearer, the large ‘Emergency Exit Only’ sign above Logan’s head making for a nice deterrent. He’d chosen his spot carefully, deactivating the alarm for a guaranteed space for air when he needed breaks from the party.

“Couples figure skating begins in fifteen minutes, if you’re ‘competing,’” Logan told them, tapping his watch. Roman’s muted voice buzzed through the gap under the door, his words unintelligible but his excitement palpable. More than likely, he was making the same announcement inside. “Roman’s crafted a secret prize for the winner.”

“Oh, thanks, Lo!” they cheered as they clomped past, taking the long way back to the main entrance. They stumbled slightly, leaning on each other until they turned just out of Logan’s sight.

“Thanks, Lo Lo,” Remus purred, too close to his other side.

Logan jolted, pivoting away too fast for Remus’ outstretched hand. His toe stop squeaked against the floorboards and he glared up at the wayward brother. He'd shed his usual motorcycle jacket and tight ripped jeans and was dressed instead in a long-sleeved green shirt under a deep blue denim vest and matching pants. A bit of sparkle flashed in the denim. It reminded Logan of his old skating competition clothes. What the hell is he playing at? “Where have you been? The party— your— party started over an hour ago!”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” he cooed but didn’t move closer. One hand was tucked behind his back, the other hand the railing next to them in a death grip. “Did you miss me?” he asked with a grin, eyebrows dancing in a spot-on imitation of Andrew Scott’s Moriarty.

“Of course not.” Of course he didn’t miss his vaguely derogative nicknames or how he stood too close or stared into his eyes when he spoke. “Roman was looking for you.”

“Eh,” Remus shrugged, his smile falling into a smirk. “So why are you out here? Looking for me, too?”

“No.” Logan looked out over the side parking lot. This vantage point specifically wouldn’t allow him to watch for the approach of Remus’ car or the entrance to see him slither in late to his own birthday party. He couldn’t look for Remus here. “But you are correct,” he muttered. “I should return.”

He turned and side-stepped upstairs. He was half-way up the flight when he noticed the lack of Remus’ skates tromping behind him. Logan looked over his shoulder and Remus had barely moved. “Are you not going inside?”

“Afraid you’ll miss the chance to skate with me?” Remus smirked back. Logan crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. He was certainly not going to entertain the idea just to have Remus play some trick in front of everyone.  “Don’t get your pencils twisted. I’m coming.” He inched forward, one hand still gripping the railing. “Well, not yet, anyway. That would be rude without my date.”

“I’m not your date,” Logan reminded him, frowning at his remark. He waited another long moment and listened as the music shifted and Roman’s voice again filtered through the cracks between the exit doors. “If you wish to see at least some of your birthday party, we should return.”

“Oooh, ‘we…’” Remus laughed, sharp and bright. His smile had gone a little brittle and though he’d slid a little closer, he’d still not joined Logan on the stairs. He would have to let go of the side railing to get any closer, and he seemed… intent on keeping hold of it. Almost as though…

“Remus?” Logan asked, stepping closer. “Remus do you not know how to roller skate?”

“I can skate,” he insisted, hand still wrapped around the rail. “I’m just… just a little rusty.” Remus’ smile finally cracked and he looked up. Logan remained silent. “Fine!” he said, letting go of the railing. Remus slid closer to the first step, perhaps a little wobbly. He reached for the bannister and stepped up to the first stair. “I’ll show you. I’ll just—”

His words cut out when his front wheels spun out, toe stop catching on the edge of the step. His back leg shot out and he slammed to his knees, arms spread and revealing the small wrapped package he’d been hiding behind his back. The box skidded across the floor, a corner of the silver-starred paper tearing.

“Remus?” Logan hop-skipped down the stairs two at a time. He landed near him just as Remus was pushing himself up to sit, back propped against the railing to which he’d been clinging to. “Remus, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Pocket Protector,” Remus muttered, looking away and brushing the dust off his knees. “Just go in. I’ll…”

Logan had sat beside him and stretched to reach for the small box. “You dropped your present for Roman.”

“Not for Roman,” Remus said, barely audible. “”S for you. If you don’t want it…” He shrugged, the bravado, the teasing, the confidence in his voice evaporated into the night.

“For me?” Logan turned the small package around in his hands. Remus had wrapped it in deep indigo paper and had apparently stamped a star pattern over the finished gift.

Remus shrugged. “You didn’t hafta get me anything this year.”

“Your gift is inside at the party,” Logan said, setting aside the gift and his curiosity. “I wouldn’t bring Roman a gift without one for you, as well.”

“Why?”

Logan didn’t have an answer for that so instead he shifted to face him. “Why did Roman ask for a birthday party at a roller rink if you can’t roller skate?”

“Brotherly love?” Remus’ laugh was hollow. Roman’s voice boomed through the building again, even louder this time. “Dick move, yeah.” He waved Logan on. “You should go in. He is your best friend.”

Logan pushed himself up to one knee and waited for another laugh, another smirk, another ‘Nerd!’ 

Remus was quiet and still wouldn‘t look at him. Logan pushed to his feet and turned his foot, bracing himself. He reached for Remus’ hands with both of his. “Not without my date,” he said.

Remus’ head shot up, eyes narrowed. “Getting me back for the time I put isotropic polymers in your chem lab final?”

Logan dropped his hands. “I thought that was you!” The music inside the rink shifted into a fanfare and Logan let out a slow breath. “No. I will not exact my revenge for that event tonight.” He crouched and took Remus’ hands, then stood, skates braced against each other as he helped him to his feet.

“Tonight,” he said, his own smile matching Remus’ tentative grin. “Tonight let’s show your brother how much of a dick move that was.”

“You really are my Pocket Protector, aren’t you?” Remus laughed.

Hands still wrapped around Remus’, Logan pushed his right hand back as he pulled the left closer, spinning the taller man until he faced the wall. “Tomorrow, you should watch your back.”

Still laughing, Remus nodded. “You got it, nerd.”

-----

Full gift exchange series

#sanders sides #ts logan #ts remus #intrulogical #eventually #college au #logan sanders #remus sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #briefly

[sanderssidesficprompts]

Law student Janus is stressed out about a big upcoming test, so his boyfriend (or boyfriends) decided to help him study (up to you if they actually study or not)

#sanders sides #human au #can become spicy if wanted #fluff #sweet #intruloceit #janus sanders #dukeceit #anxceit #roceit #anaroceit #analoroceit #mociet #lomoceit #college au

[yourchemicallyimbalancedromance]

“I Keep You Safe From Me”

(Title inspired by lyrics from the song “Liar” by Paramore || “Liar” is basically Virgil and Logan’s theme song for right now haha)

Chapter one: New Beginnings

(This is pretty short, sorry! But longer chapters are coming I promise!!)

Ship: slow burn romantic Analogical

CW/TW: weed, a bit of self deprecating language (barely! blink and you’ll miss it, but it’s there so it’s worth tagging!)

POV: Virgil

(No summary cause I don’t wanna give anything away)

———————————————————————

Virgil sat on the hood of his car, hot Georgia summer sun sinking into his clothes, wrinkled schedule in hand, watching as all the other freshman and their parents rushed to unload boxes upon boxes from everything from old beat-up Range Rovers to new Jeep Wranglers.

It seemed as if it didn’t matter whether it was a double or a single room they were heading to, the boxes just kept coming from the voids of the cars; labels differing between “Winter Clothes” and “Tupperware” passed by him consistently with no sign of stopping. He didn’t move, just watched and listened to the laughter between families.

He hadn’t had anyone to bring him here or help him pack, so he shoved things into boxes and threw them carelessly into the trunk of his Camry.

He tried to ignore the rising feeling of jealousy and contempt in his gut as the joyful tone around him persisted on. He focused on the burning of the hot metal against his legs and stared at his schedule with the intensity of an animal stalking its prey. He knew he had to go in soon, to walk to his dorm and meet his roommates, but he wanted to drag out the inevitable for as long as he could.

He had signed up for early morning classes, hoping to be awake before the others so they wouldn’t bother him.

He watched as the parking lot cleared and a final pair of bodies disappeared behind the tinted double doors. sighing, he checked the time on his phone.

11:36 AM

He quickly shut his phone off, shoving it upside down into his shorts pocket and shoving himself off of the car, grabbing his backpack off of the ground and making his way towards the entrance of the school, leaving all of the boxes in his car out of his mind and shoving open the door upon arrival, he would deal with unpacking later.

He kept his head down, staring at the paper in his hand, not daring to make eye contact with anyone. He was hoping to look as if he was trying to figure out his dorm number even though he had already memorized it prior to moving day.

He stood there for a moment or two, not wanting to move, wanting to go back to his car and camp out there from midday to night. He wanted an education, sure, that’s what he was here for, but he didn’t sign up to be yanked into a building full of strangers even though he already knew how this worked.

When his brother Cosmos got accepted to Harvard he never heard the end of it.

Cosmos was more excited about the partying aspect of life on campus, but on the other hand Virgil never heard the end of it from their parents. it was always about how smart Cosmos was and how intelligent he was for getting into such a prestigious school with a 4.0 and them questioning why he wasn’t trying as hard because he could be just as great as his brother.

What they didn’t know was that he was as great as his aforementioned older sibling, if not better, they just didn’t want to acknowledge that part.

A sudden tap to the shoulder jolted Virgil out of his thoughts, snapping his head up and turning around to see who made the movement.

He was met face to face with a man a few inches taller than him, wearing a solid grey vest and light black button down pants paired with white sneakers. Thin circular glasses outlined his facial features perfectly. Strong jawline, a bit of stubble, gorgeous hazel eyes, a soft smile.

“You’ve been standing here for a few minutes now, do you need help?” The man in front of him spoke, voice clear and concise.

Virgil became all too aware of his disheveled state. Tired eyes, jittery limbs, rocking a MCR t-shirt two sizes too big for him and black shorts with tennis shoes. He smiled at him sheepishly before answering.

He genuinely seemed like he wanted to help and Virgil was honestly willing to take all the help he could get. “Uh..yeah, sorry. I just need to get to room 307 on floor 2” he responded

“Oh? My room is right across from yours, I can show you the way.” the man replied, walking towards a flight of stairs to the left of them.

Virgil followed, the sound of his bag bouncing behind him echoing off of the walls before making it to the second floor and being led to one of the doors.

The hallway wasn’t empty in the slightest. There were no people crowding the space but the chatter filling the air was enough to make it seem as if there were. Doors were open in every direction, peak in and you’d find a mother and father reminiscing over a time when their kid was just learning how to walk and now they were awing over their successes while unpacking t-shirts. It made Virgil feel sick. He shook his head, trying to shake away the hope he once had that maybe, just maybe, his parents stand-offish parental style would change just this once. ‘Stupid.’ He thought to himself.

“This is it, 307” the man next to him said, gesturing towards the door. He turned around and gestured towards the door across from Virgil’s. “And this is 308, where I live. It’s a single but yknow, I like the quiet.” he said, shrugging and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Thank you, um..” Virgil started, remembering he didn’t know the handsome strangers name.

“Oh, Logan” he finished, taking a hand out of his pocket and sticking it out for the other to shake.

Virgil took it and smiled, “Thank you, Logan. I guess I’ll..see you around?” he said.

Logan’s eyes glimmered behind his glasses. “I guess you will” He said, a tint of smugness in his voice before turning around and walking inside his dorm.

Virgil turned back to face his own dorm, hesitantly raising a fist and knocking.

The door swung open in mere seconds as Virgil was confronted by a man wearing baggy jeans, a green Nike sweatshirt, and nothing but socks on. His eyes were green, slightly red and a little droopy, a tired aura surrounded him. He gave a weak grin to Virgil and moved so he could walk in.

He did, and was almost immediately hit by the smell of weed. The wide space of the living area was littered with open boxes, clothes scattered everywhere and indie-rock blasting from a small speaker placed on the windowsill which for the time being only had blinds as a way of maintaining privacy.

Something about the vibe of the room made him relax. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

#did someone say Human College AU with the Sides?????? #sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #analogical #slow burn #college au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts deceit #ts janus #janus sanders #ts anxiety #ts logic

[lovelycatdraws]

Here we see Virgil being a thoughtful friend!

Drawing based on @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors group chat fic, one of the many beautiful extra works of the Love and Other Fairytales series (main story) (extras)

#laoft will always hold a special place in my heart #found it in my freshman year of college and it just #really helped me through that transition in my life #lovelycatdraws #fanart #doodles from class #sketch #sanders sides #sanders sides au #laoft fanart #Loki’s art

[typically-untypical]

The Model

AU: College, Artists

CW: Non descriptive nudity

WC: 1,550

Date: 12/12/2023

Honestly, when Roman signed up to be a nude model, he assumed it was going to be an ego boost, people staring at his form, drawing his superior figure. He didn't expect it to be surprisingly grounding. The artists didn't look at a whole person. He was just a thing to be drawn. After one of the sessions he had actually asked about their technique and they explained what they saw. Instead of seeing him as a full person he was a set of muscles. He was a shadow in the light. He was more of himself, and less. Roman went from thinking he was going to be their new star to realizing most of them didn't even see him as a human, at least not when his clothes were off and it was sobering and interesting. However, that moment came with another. Each artist saw him differently and thus, he started looking at the artists. Each of them had their own quirks, their own stories and there was an intertwined story that caught his attention. 

Two times a week, for about an hour each, Roman would let his eyes linger on the two artists in the back. He focused on their dynamic on the way the both weakened and strengthened each other. He had yet to learn either of their names, all he knew was one of them had purple fringe that he pinned up when he drew, and the other had beautifully long blonde hair that he meticulously tied back with two non art pencils. Roman had taken to calling them purple and blonde.

Purple was intense when he sketched, brow furrowed and lip held tightly between his lips. He second guessed every line and movement. Blonde didn't help that anxiety. Blonde liked to tease Purple, pointing out his mistakes and flaws until Purple eventually snapped at him and jabbed him with a pencil. That normally caused the lead to break, which would cause Purple to swear and Blonde would provide a new pencil that Purple would begrudgingly take. Their hands lingered for a moment too long and it made Roman's mind wander. 

When Blonde sketched, he looked confident in every stroke of his pencil, every movement of his hand but their personalities seemed to swap when it came time to paint. Once brushes were on canvas, Purple would take in a deep breath and there would suddenly be an intense clarity in his eyes. He didn't second guess colors, strokes, or anything of that nature. Honestly, Purple almost looked serene when he was painting. Blonde, however, shook with nervousness, hiding behind a facade of confidence that Roman had started decoding the longer he stared at the two of them. Blonde had faith in his ability to draw but not to paint. Purple wanted his drawings to be perfect, but painting was his escape.

Roman was remiss to admit that his heart started to flutter for the both of them. He had always been a romantic, and watching two people, so desperately involved and in love with their craft, it was intoxicating. There was one major problem.

He was fairly sure Purple and Blonde were dating. If he had only ever seen them in the art class, he wouldn't have guessed. He would have honestly assumed there was a pining but neither had made the first move. However, he had seen them around campus a few times at this point and they were almost always joined at the hip. Still, Roman hoped that one, if not both, were interested. He just hadn't expected to get his answer in the library. Roman had seen the two of them making out in the stacks of books, hidden by the pages rarely checked out at the beginning of the semester. He wasn't even supposed to be there that day, but he had been looking for his brother and there was Blonde, using one of the library step stools to be the same height as Purple, pinning him to the bookshelf kissing him like it was the last thing the two of them would ever do together. Roman gawked, eyes stuck on them for a few moments. He was frozen in place, mouth open as he watched something he knew wasn't for him. He couldn't look away, until purple's eyes were on him. It was like lightening hitting him. Roman turned and walked out of the library, feet speeding him away from the crowded courtyard and the busy hallways. He weaved and maneuvered, working on autopilot until he stood in front of the locked theater. They had finished the fall play a few weeks before he started modeling, it had just been something to give him a bit cash and something fun in between plays. Why did he... how did he fall in love? He didn't know them. Sure he had seen their personalities through their work but he didn't know them. Obviously he didn't because he didn't know they were dating.

"Fuck, I'm so stupid," He said, putting his head in his hands as he slid down the door, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Well it's a good thing I like them dumb." There was a smooth voice that spoke over Roman, two shined black shoes standing in front of him and Roman was ready to turn his embarrassment into anger when his mouth snapped shut. Blonde was standing in front of him, that insufferable smirk on his face. It was the same one he would show purple before handing him a new pencil. Roman wasn't going to be a homewrecker.

"And why is that a good thing? I don't think I ever said anything about liking you."

"Feisty," Blonde smirked. "You're right, I am just making assumptions based on the way you were looking at Virgil and I but I could be wrong." He held out his hand for Roman. "Tell me, am I wrong?"

No, he wasn't wrong but that didn't mean this man had to know that. Roman was about to open his mouth, already standing up and disregarding Blonde's hand when Purple came walking down the hall, no, not Purple, Virgil.

"Jay, why the fuck do you walk so fast?" He was out of breath. "Hey, sorry about him... about that." He was blushing just a bit. It was so minimal Roman could have excused it as the weather, or as Virgil over exerting himself, but maybe Roman was hoping, just a bit, that Virgil was blushing for him.

"You're the model in our class, right?"

"Yes, that was me, and it's quite alright, about um... I shouldn't have been looking. It wasn't very gentlemanly of me."

"Oh, you are the model," Janus said, "I almost didn't recognize you with all of your clothes on."

"Janus," Virgil admonished. "He's just being an asshole. Sorry about him, again."

Roman nodded, unsure of where to go from here, but he was still sitting on the floor so he figured he'd at least stand. Taking Jay's hand he pulled himself up. There was a bit of an awkward silence between the three of them and Roman hated silence. "Not to change the subject but what are the two of you doing here? If you would like to tell me off I'm happy to apologize but otherwise, I am a bit confused."

The two of them looked at each other having a conversation without words before they turned back to Roman. 

"Honestly," Janus started, "I enjoy a good voyeur, and you were so polite. Virgil on the other hand wanted to make sure you didn't get the wrong idea. We are polyamorous after all."

"Yeah, we aren't mad or anything. It was a bit embarrassing but... you're good looking, and we're open. So... damn it, I wasn't going to say anything until the last day of class." He was blushing up a storm now and Roman felt his heart jump. "Look, we don't know anything about each other, but do you want to get coffee or something? Like, with me, or with both of us, or even just with Janus. Whatever you're interested in. Cuz, I don't know, it might be cool to get to know you or something like that."

"Yes," Roman said, realizing he was still holding Janus' hand and quickly pulling it away. "Yes, I would enjoy having coffee with the both of you, and like a gentleman, I would be happy to pay."

"Nah, I asked. I'll pay. You can pay for dinner," Virgil's voice was a bit more confident now and Roman smiled, bowing the best he could. 

"I would be happy to take the both of you out to dinner to get to know you better."

"Good," Janus said, grabbing Roman's hand and slipping a pen out of his back pocket. "Text us with the details."

He wrote his name with the flourish of a heart and Roman felt his own heart skip another beat.

"Come on, Cassanova," Virgil rolled his eyes, grabbing Janus and pulling him away. "See you later." He waved to Roman and Roman waved back before looking down at his hand. 

A date. He had a date with both of them!

A smile spread along his face. Becoming a nude model was the best choice he had made in a while.

@tsspromptmonth

#TSS Rare Gifts Event 2023 #Untypical Creations #Sanders Sides #Sanders Side fic #Fanfic #Virgil Sanders #Janus Sanders #Roman Sanders #Artist AU #college au #Do I know anything about nude modeling? No. #Was that going to stop me? Also No.

[audioaujom]

(10) Why Do Living Things Need Feelings?

LTWF Hub, < prev, next >

Hello hello! I’ve nothing to say to go along with this update except: enjoy. Perhaps things will look up. We’re getting close to the end, afterall. ((:

Word Count: 1230

--

Meanwhile, Virgil was attempting a very, very risky plan.

Well it wasn’t risky necessarily, but it wasn’t a very good idea. He was fresh out of good ideas, though. They ran out with his patience approximately two minutes after waking up several days ago, kidnapped in a basement.

For now, he resigned himself to sawing at the tape binding his hands with the cap of a plastic water bottle Janus had left him with, finally splitting the wrapped tape enough that he could yank it apart with just his strength—or what was left of it.

It had taken him far too long and far too much energy to do, praying he wouldn’t be too late to stop Janus from fucking around with Logan any further.

Even the basement of the Engineering Building was familiar from all the days he'd spent trekking through it, legs shaking but supporting him on adrenaline alone as he passed maintenance door after maintenance door, forcing himself up two flights of steps to the floor with his lab on it.

Even if the professor was out, maybe he could put something together with his tools.

Or find his phone and call… the police?

None of his plans were finishing themselves, unhinged ideas swirling into an incoherent mess as he half-walked/half-dragged himself down the hall to finally reach the door to the lab—which had all of the lights off. The lab itself was nearly deserted when Virgil finally got the door open and stumbled inside, the suspicion in his gut settling into a hard stone of dread as he saw Logan idling beside Professor Villarehal’s desk.

“Shit.”

“Oh, hello.” Logan turned to glance at him as he came in, smile empty. “Do you work here?”

Grabbing several tools off his work station and limping up to the front desk, Virgil bit back his sarcasm. “Yup.”

Janus must've done a factory reset, Virgil decided, grimace morphing into a grin. But that's nothing I can't fix.

——

Logan, to be entirely honest, had no idea what was going on. 

After the strange student had stuck the tools into his neck the metal casing of his head started squeezing in a strange way—and it wasn’t supposed to do that. He knew he was online the way he was supposed to be, but everything felt… off. He couldn’t actually see anything and all he could hear was a high-pitched ringing as he tried to force himself to the surface of whatever weird fog had invaded his programming.

What… happened?

Parsing through his memory didn't yield anything at first, until he managed to pull up something seemingly from before. His memory only started from this morning, but this one was dated as the night before.

He was standing in Professor Sanders’ classroom, surrounded by several kids. Their names were hazy, but he felt a distinct change in his attitude as he recognized one of the faces in front of him.

“Oh, please. Stop struggling, this won’t hurt.” Janus had commented with a proud sneer, pausing a little before correcting, “Maybe. I wouldn’t know.”

Logan was being held down by the students, unable to stop Janus as he stepped around behind him and pried the panel on his neck open.

Everything went white.

The fog still wasn't clearing, but some things were starting to make sense. The student—Virgil. His name is Virgil, he's one of Patton’s friends—must've found a way to redownload everything that Janus had tried to destroy from the reset.

Oh, but Patton…

Something in his memory of the boy’s bright smile and auburn bangs had his head squeezing again, synthetic oil rushing through the pump placed perfectly center in his chest in oddly rhythmic stuttering contractions.

He blinked once, watching the darkness cross his vision before disappearing—not taking any of the static in his vision with it. He tried blinking again, once again only getting a brief wash of darkness. 

Why can’t I see anything?

As old memories continually resurfaced—in no particular order—he tried to use one of his hands to see if something was obstructing his eyes, only for his hand to barely twitch. For some odd reason, he couldn’t seem to move or see except for whatever weird glitching continued to spaz in his body.

What was going on?

His attitude shifted again, memory full of images of sitting alone with Patton in the classroom. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about their conversation about the stars, the pump in his chest stuttering again.

Was he… nervous?

As soon as the word appeared in his head everything started making sense, the nervousness jittering in his body shifting to panic. He didn’t need to breathe but he felt his chest stop and his memories turn to fuzz, his twitching hands falling back to his sides, still. Heat rushed over his cheeks, his mechanical joints aching like the bones they replicated as the colors in front of him began slowly merging into actual shapes in front of his eyes.

“Logan? Are you with me? Logan!” Virgil’s voice finally pulled him through the last of the haze, blinking rapidly to focus in on the concerned brown eyes in front of him. Virgil snapped again in front of his face, Logan reaching up a heavy hand to push it back down.

“Virgil… I—” He mumbled, the familiar classroom sending both a wash of relief and fear through him. His head hurt. That was what was wrong, and it didn’t seem to be going away.

“I know. Janus reset you, but he's a dumbass.” Virgil shook his head, Logan’s eyes catching the movement in a way he’d never really before. He noticed the way his face was sunken in, dark bags under bloodshot eyes and above a dry and cracked smile. 

All in all, Virgil looked beat to hell and exhausted. 

“Are you… back?” 

“Yes, but… if he really reset me, then did I…?” Logan trailed off at the telling look on the engineering student’s battered face, shoulders slumping. “Oh no.” 

“It’ll be okay as long as you find Patton now.” Virgil’s adrenaline appeared to be waning, him leaning heavily against the desk behind him. “Janus probably wanted to catch him after resetting you. I'm not sure how long ago that was.”

“I understand. But in the meantime, you should seriously consider a hospital.” Logan advised, a little unnerved by the wave of concern inside him.

Were emotions supposed to move this quickly? This strongly?

Virgil waved a dismissive hand, cracking a small smile at the easily-readable expression on the android’s face. “You go, I'll handle me.” 

“Understood. Thank you, Virgil.” Logan said sincerely, turning and jogging out of the lab and back towards Professor Sanders’ classroom.

He still didn’t understand what was going on with him. He knew he was feeling, but none of that made any sense. When did this start to happen? How did his default become so… emotional?

He let the questions in his mind go unanswered as he frantically searched the hallway of students for any glimpse of Patton, spurred on by a squeezing anxiety that had him hearing a fast, artificial heartbeat in his ears.

He could worry about what all that meant later. For now, he needed to find Patton.

——

Finally slumping down to the floor as his weakened legs gave out, Virgil laughed to himself in the empty classroom. “Yeah… Roman’s going to kill me.” 

#college au #robot au #robots #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #cross posted on ao3 #whump #angst #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #logicality #prinxiety #ooooo what's this things are getting fun #I am not sorry

[bastard-aziraphale]

since this AU hinges on the relationship between the twins i really wanted to complete a drawing of them together !! ft. the first time they tried hanging out together at college, with janus as a chaperone 

#ts remus #ts roman #creativitwins #remus sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #platonic dukeceit #platonic roceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanart #tss fanart #digital art #digital illustration #drinking cw #alcohol cw #anamoceit uni #sanders sides college au #art tag

[virgilsjourney]

Summary: They have tipped over into the land of 3 a.m. where everything is inexplicably funny. The couch is shaking with Roman’s silent laughter, which only makes Virgil laugh more.

Tags: Ficlet, College/Uni AU, POV Virgil, Banter, Late Night Conversations

Content warning: brief horror movie references; past unhappy home life (briefly implied)

Relationship focus: Roman/Virgil (pre-relationship); background Roman & Logan’s friendship; friendship/found family for all

_____________

“One, two, Freddy’s coming for you…” Virgil sing-songs under his breath—with the perfect amount of menace, if he says so himself.

Roman squeals in a perfect imitation of a hamster who’s just inhaled helium.

“Oh my god,” Virgil says, delighted, “what the hell was that?”

Roman claps a hand over his mouth, as if he is even more shocked at the sound. “You—you shut up,” he wheezes ineffectually, and Virgil starts to giggle.

They have tipped over into the land of 3 a.m. where everything is inexplicably funny. The couch is shaking with Roman’s silent laughter, which only makes Virgil laugh more.

“Okay,” Virgil attempts to get himself under control. “We’ve got to stop. My ribs.”

Roman prods Virgil accusingly in the side. “You started it!”

Virgil, very maturely, kicks him in reply.

“Ah!” Roman throws an arm over his eyes. “I have been slain.” Then he promptly sits back up again.

“Wow. He lives.”

Roman grins triumphantly before nodding at the T.V—it’s still playing the movie’s credits, now on mute. “I think we should call it quits; I don’t think my brain can handle another.”

Virgil hums in agreement; he stretches for the remote and turns off the T.V, plunging the room into darkness.

Silence.

Virgil sighs. “What?”

“Nothing!”

Virgil reaches over and flicks the side of Roman’s face.

“Ow! How can you even see enough to have perfect aim?”

Aha: so, it’s the dark that’s bothering him.

“I can put my phone light on,” Virgil suggests. He does so for half a second and immediately regrets it; the harsh light makes the two of them wince in unison. “Yeah, maybe not.”

In darkness again, he blinks the spots out of his vision.

“This is your fault,” Roman says with an audible pout. “Your stupid movies—”

“Yeah, cause God forbid if Halloween movies are actually, y’know, scary.”

“—making me think of all kinds of… shadow demons!”

“Aw,” Virgil says in a sugary sweet tone that he absolutely knows will wind Roman up, “you and your imagination.”

Roman, predictably, splutters in offense. “I don’t know how you cope. Seriously, Virgil, look over at the window.”

Virgil does. Blinks. “Roman, that’s a clothes rack.”

“Sure. But aren’t you worried that it could be a—a spindly demon disguised as a clothes rack?”

Virgil tilts his head and reconsiders the shadow. “Well, now I am.”

“See! What we need is… atmosphere. Something to banish the shadows.”

“That makes sense,” Virgil says indulgently, conveniently ignoring that his favoured sleeping environment is a pitch-black room, accompanied by the soothing white noise of Jack the Ripper conspiracy theories.

“Ooh, I know,” Roman says, with a worryingly enlightened tone for three in the morning.

“Uh, what are you—oof, get off, you klutz.”

Because Roman has clambered off the couch, treading on Virgil’s legs in the process. Virgil hears the kitchen door creak open, then Roman closing it as silently as possible. All is quiet for a few moments—Virgil smiles at the mental image of Roman tiptoeing comically down the hall—and he strains to catch muffled speech from Roman, voice rising in question…

… And then, what is unmistakeably Logan: “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Virgil snorts.

The kitchen door swings open again and Roman re-enters with a whispered, “Success!” There’s a little scrabbling noise, a click, and the blackness gently dissipates. Roman must have woken Logan to ask for his desk lamp: it has a standard lightbulb setting, but it also has a mode for projecting galaxies on the walls and ceiling, a kaleidoscope of soft indigo hues. It’s the perfect balance between light and dark, illuminating the shadowy corners without being dazzlingly bright.

“He still gave you that after you woke him up?”

“We negotiated,” Roman says. “And I left before he could murder me. Oh, but,” his voice switches to something more serious, “the cable’s fraying a bit; I thought we could—”

“Birthday present?” Virgil guesses.

“Yeah.”

“On it.” Virgil makes a note of it on his phone.  

“Woah,” Roman says, apropos of nothing, then dives back onto the couch again; Virgil narrowly avoids a stray elbow to the face.

“You literally almost broke my nose.”

“Your hair,” Roman says with a hushed reverence that, to Virgil, is hugely misplaced, especially considering his method of hair dye application is ‘hunch over the sink and hope for the best.’ “It looks so cool with the lights.”

“It’s fading.” Virgil ruffles a hand through his bangs—his usual streaks of dark purple have become much paler through time, washed out. “I’m dyeing it again at the weekend.”

“I like it either way,” Roman says, and he wriggles up the couch so they’re sitting side by side, one leg draping over Virgil’s; and Virgil doesn’t really care that it’ll probably result in pins and needles later. Up close, Roman takes another look at Virgil’s hair. “It’s kinda… lilac-y,” he says, then adds, with a little gasp of realisation, “like in Sleeping Beauty!”

Virgil is used to Roman coming out with random observations—particularly sleep-deprived Roman, leaping from topic to topic with the most obscure of links between them. It’s entertaining, and Virgil likes to think that he has a handle on guessing the connections Roman makes; takes a secret point of pride in it, actually, as if he and Roman sometimes speak a language only they can understand.

But tonight—ugh, this morning, really—he can practically feel the cogs in his brain grind to a halt in protest: dude, it is way too late, try again later.

Still, he tries. Fails. “What,” he says flatly.

“Sleeping Beauty,” Roman repeats unhelpfully. “The Lilac Fairy, c’mon, Virge.”

Virgil wrinkles his nose. “There isn’t a lilac fairy.” It’s been a while since he watched the Disney movie, but the details are there, albeit fuzzy. He counts off on his fingers: “There’s red… green… uh… blue—”

“Oh!” Roman laughs. “Sorry, my fault; I didn’t mean the Disney version. I meant the ballet.”

“Huh. I’ve never seen it.”

Roman gasps. “Oh my god, Virgil, you must, it’s—” He stops, laughs again, a bit sheepishly. “Well, technically, I’ve not seen it, either. Like, years ago, I must’ve been… eight? Something like that. There was a recording on T.V at Christmas; the VHS got taped over, but there was one scene saved—I kept watching it over and over ‘til I broke the damn thing. I wonder if…” He takes out his phone, taps rapidly at the screen. “One sec.”

In the silence, Virgil replays Roman’s words in his head thoughtfully. He doesn’t have much information about Roman’s home life—from Logan, he only knows that Roman moved out of his family home for good last year, back when Logan and Roman had shared a room. Roman stayed in the dorm that Christmas, Logan said, and Logan had joined him. Before Virgil could even think about asking anything more, Logan, reticent about his family in his own way, had clammed up.

Virgil got the hint and didn’t pry.

Still, what little he has gleaned has sparked something fierce in his chest. Now he has half a mind to scour the internet for a full copy of the ballet that has entranced Roman since childhood.

“Aha, no way!” Roman exclaims. He shuffles even closer and puts his phone in between them, landscape, displaying a paused video. “Okay, this is a more recent production, obviously, but it’s the same scene!” He presses play. “So, this is, like, the first showdown between the Lilac Fairy and Carabosse—”

“Carabosse?”

Roman waves a hand. “Maleficent, then. Ooh, ooh, and, this is so freaking cool, they use ballet mime, which is—actually, I’ll explain after, ’cause even if you don’t know what they’re saying exactly, you can get the gist…”

He falls silent as Tchaikovsky’s score fills the room, punctuated with ominous cracks of lightning.

After a minute or so of watching the video, Virgil furtively types on his own phone. It’s funny, he usually is never one for making impulsive purchases.

He glances over; Roman doesn’t even notice, still staring at the screen, captivated. The blue light from Logan’s lamp only seems to make his eyes shine even more.

Virgil, quietly smiling to himself, buys the ballet tickets.

_____________

Ballet scene referenced:

Ballet mime: Carabosse's curse from "The Sleeping Beauty" (with subbed mime)

#sanders sides fic #prinxiety #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides college au #sanders sides uni au #ficlet series

[hyperfixated-homo]

one more doodle before i go sleep

this is roman from @haysgrove’s college projection au. he is very no thoughts, head empty and i think that is cool of him. 

#sanders sides #roman sanders #college projection au #ts sanders sides #ts roman #hi its midnight #im so tired but i love him too much #shadow draws

[pencilpat]

Calling your spider boyfriend lovebug? Inspired

Plus a small moxiety peek at my take on a human AU where they're all a bunch of dorky college kids

#moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders fanart #sanders sides fanart #ts virgil #ts patton #tss art #college au

[n-lol]

Sander Sides x Twisted Wonderland anyone?

I've recently picked up my hyperfixation on Sander Sides, and as the genius I am I thought of making a crossover between one of my favorite games and Sander Sides!

(Ps. My best friend helped with them so check them out too @kiraversee)

Virgil

Starting off strong with my personal favorite. So let's start off with saying he and Logan kinda grew up together because I love platonic Analogical, they're from the Shaftlands! As for the school, he attended NRC till his 3rd year! But after a HUGE fight with Janus (his second closest friend) he decided to change school and attend Noble Bell College. His previous dorm in NRC was Ignihyde, he was pretty much only friends with Ortho and saw Idia like twice in 2 years. (They met each other one night when they had both went out to get energy drinks from the vending machine, and the second time was because of Ortho dragging Idia with him to give a special gift to Virgil.)

Janus

(Offended they don't have yellow for font)

Our favorite snake boy, Janus. He grew up in Briar Valley, being a snake fae. Half of his face is covered in scales and has heterocromia, his left eye is light brown while his right one is bright yellow and snake like. He attendes NRC and is a 3rd year from Octavinelle. (He might have beef with Azul) He's not the absolute worst but he's not a saint either, tho if you ask Virgil he won't agree with me. He's pretty influential and has many 'acquaintances' in all the dorms so he's always up everybody's business. (Azul is impressed)

Remus

The og rat king! Twin brother and son of the famous Royal family from a kingdom not too far from Sage's Island. Childhood friend of Patton and younger twin of Roman, he's a menace. He's the second born which means he won't become king, but he hardly cares about royalty, he instead prefers to focus on "more important" matters like how to annoy his dorm leader. Who is Leona btw, yes Remus is in Savanaclaw, he's not a hybrid or anything of the sort but he sure is fast and athletic and he's surprisingly on par with some of the other members who *are* hybrids. (Leona was almost impressed) He's pretty well known for his constant pranks on other students and weird behavior other than the fact that he's a prince. His and Roman relationship isn't the best but not Leona and Falena level- fortunately.

Remy

Also well known as Azul's main source of income with how much money he spends on coffee at Mostro Lounge everyday. (Azul just gave him a card so he could always go to them instead of going to other cafes) He's well-known in NRC for the sole reason of him dating a RSA student, aka their sworn enemy. Also because of his powerful magic but they shouldn't be surprised as he is from Diasomnia dorm. He's a pretty chill guy and was friends with Virgil before he moved, now they hardly see/talk to each other. He's an older brother figure to a lot of people but he's hardly seen around anymore since he's a 4th year and he's working on his off campus education.

Might make a part 2 with the light sides!

#sander sides #twisted wonderland #crossover #sander sides x twisted wonderland au #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #remy sanders #dark sides #night raven college #noble bell college #au