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#sanders sides ocs
artxeevee · 8 months
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Second part of the batch in Artfight! Also had fun with them as part 1 was, so this is also in order of these lovely OCs and who they belong to!
The first pic is Josie, who belongs to @bellatrixobsessed1 !
The second pic is Creativity, who belongs to EventideOwls ! (check out their artfight account since they don't seemed to have other social media links unfortunately)
The third pic is Mudkip, who belongs to vix-studios ! (check out their youtube and toyhouse)
The fourth pic is Flick, who belongs to @hellscythearts !
The fifth pic is Lava Lamp who belongs to Waffle ! (check out their artfight since it's their only account)
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emoprincey · 11 months
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Ok, info sheet abt my sides!!
I don't have time to draw them all so here's the picrew I used XD
Creativity
Name: Aurora
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She's very fun, a bit loud and can be kinda bossy sometimes. Definitely likes to do creative projects her own way. Constantly tries to drag the other sides away from their work to work on projects or play games with her. Loves music and acting. Pretty much always has faer nose in a book, whether she's writing or reading.
Anxiety
Name: Avery
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Anxious about literally everything, as their role suggests. Xae try to always look on the bright side, even if it's hard, and often deflects with humour. Rambles a lot when they get anxious. Likes to be surrounded by familiar things that make them feel calm. Does Not like leaving the house. Usually wears jumpers and comfy clothes.
Depression
Name: Lake
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Very sad all the time but tries not to show it and bring others down. Doesn’t talk much. Gives the best hugs. Always has a heavy crocheted blanket wrapped around faer shoulders. Very close with Avery. When one or both of them are having a bad day, they can often be found huddled together under Lake's blanket.
Logic
Name: Laurel
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Always tries (and often fails) to be punctual. Loves space and maths. Has trouble seeing things from other people's perspectives, and doesn't understand why everyone doesn't think completely logically. Although they don't understand why Avery and Lake feel so depressed and anxious, is very close with both of them and tries to be nice to them. Is absolutely not infallible, and can often be swayed to anxiety's and depression's ways of thinking, and can end up accidentally enforcing their spirals.
Anger
Name: Alexis
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Also embodies self-preservation, bitterness and jealousy. Isn't allowed a 'seat at the table' so to speak, very often when making group decisions. Acts on impulse and makes rash decisions. Has a hard time accepting they're wrong. Doesn't get along with the other sides but will do anything to protect them.
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Three Queens And A Joker
First fic for this year’s @sandersidesbigbang !
A huge thanks to my team for being amazing!! Check out the amazing art by @antisocial-xxxpert​ and this adorable art by the wonderful @talking4the1 a big thank you to @im-an-anxious-wreck​ for beta-ing this fic so quickly and thoroughly!!
Also thank you to the lovely @nyxi-styx for letting me include their OC, Eden Sanders/ Olmeda so I could include our boys <3
I’ll be updating with additional links as I have them! I hope you all enjoy!
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Drag AU
Word Count: 11958 words (dang)
Pairings: Platonic Creativitwins, developing Prinxiety, Dukeceit
Content Warnings: Remus being Remus, swearing, sexual jokes and references (no actual sex though), injury mention (non-graphic) Rated: Mature (see above)
Summary: A late night text from Remus sends Roman Castillo into a world of wigs, makeup, and lip syncing. Being pulled last minute into performing on stage, will Roman be able to deliver? And will be be able to leave it all behind? It’s only one performance and then he’s done... right?
~~
Roman Castillo flicked the crown charm on his cellphone in time with his steps; one, two, three, repeat. He wasn’t sure what it was Remus wanted from him out of the blue on a saturday night, but he just hoped it wasn’t anything he’d regret having his fingerprints linked back to. 
“The corner of Stokes and Williams, he says…”
It took a little bit of guesswork to finally find The Palace. The club was nestled between a dingey pizza place, and what Roman theorised was a bridal store if the opulent white gown in the window that cost the same as his car was anything to go by. The neon sign flickered in a magenta-purple hue, not quite brokenly, but it definitely needed a rewiring at the least. The club’s exterior was painted a black that caught the light with a purple glint. The walls were surprisingly clean even if the sidewalk they held firm to was littered with pieces of trash and pock-marked with all manner of splatter from stains Roman didn’t care to think on.
Posters of all sorts were torn like faded tattoos  —  most boasted shows long since performed and performers long since moved on or retired, but few remained legible. He could make out a few advertising lounge singers or the occasional stand up performance but names had long since been rubbed away or bled out with the printing ink in the rain.
Roman was jolted from his distracted thoughts by a familiar voice.
“Hey, Ro! You made it!” Remus called from the doorway of the pizza place, “And hey, you got here with time to spare! Look at you being responsible ‘n’ shit!”
Roman sighed. “Great, wonderful. Now can I finally be told why I’m here—?”
He paused as he actually caught sight of Remus. It only now occurred to Roman that he’d never thought to ask Remus what he actually did at The Palace, but going by his twin’s outlandish exaggerated costume, Roman could safely assume he was some kind of performer. He wore a green tentacled head piece complimenting a navy slip of a dress decorated by a large anchor piece in front. The makeup job was something else entirely, a gradient of purples, blues, and teals that covered Remus’ visible upper chest. Some of the makeup was wiped away in varying circles, mimicking bubbles.
“All in due time, Ro.” Remus snickered, clearly enjoying Roman's reaction. “Let’s all get introductions out of the way first!”
At Remus’ side, two women were eating pizza from the box Roman’s twin was holding. One of them gave Roman a firm once over with her eyes. She wore a glamorous black and gold evening gown that fit her pinup model figure, her flaxen hair worn long and elegant. Roman had to admit, despite his attraction laying solely with men, she was bewitching in that old film femme fatale kind of way.
The other woman simply fixed him with a bored stare as she impassively – and impressively – ate her pizza without smearing her pastel violet lipstick. Roman wondered if she’d leapt out of the pages of an anime: her gothic lolita attire and hime-cut hair screamed I kin Misa Amane and owned a homemade ‘Death Note’ in middle school. The monochrome black and shades of purple suited her well, complimenting her green-hazel heterochromia. Roman watched her mirthlessly twirl her fancy parasol in her grasp and wondered if her indifference was genuine or simply a cover for her to observe him without giving anything away.
Regardless, Roman wasn’t about to be rude on their first meeting. “Right, of course.” With a charming smile, he offered a hand out to whichever of the two would accept it first, “I’m Roman, it’s a pleasure to meet you, ladies. I dare say you both look incredible, truly a dazzling pair of beautiful queens.”
Both women shared a look of thinly veiled amusement and upon seeing the genuine sincerity in his expression, burst into laughter. Confusion spread over Roman’s face, looking to Remus for answers, but the bastard was also in fits.
Then, the woman in gold gave his arm a soft but patronising pat, speaking in a rich, deep voice, “Well you’re not wrong; we certainly are a pair of queens.”
Oh. Oh.
Roman felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. It didn’t help that he could see the one in purple was snickering into her free hand. He huffed, fixing his brother with a tired glare. “And just when were you going to tell me I was making an utter ass of myself?”
Remus snorted. “When aren’t you making an utter ass of yourself?”
Tossing the now empty pizza box into a trash can, Remus quickly made introductions, “This one here’s Virgil, and this sexy son of a bitch is my boyfriend, Janus.”
The one in gold, Janus, rolled his eyes with an aching fondness. Virgil snorted, whether in amusement or distaste it was hard to place.
Roman awkwardly offered a reintroduction, “Charmed. I apologise if I insulted you earlier—”
“Nonsense,” Janus dismissed, firm and matter-of-factly. “It was adorable. Like an excited puppy running full pelt into a glass sliding door.”
He wasn’t sure if that was Janus being kind or insulting him. He hoped it was the first option.
“Alright then.” He fixed his twin with an impatient, narrowed stare. “Now, what exactly did you haul me away from my art studio at midnight for anyway?”
Janus raised an eyebrow curiously. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No, he just texted me, and I'm quoting here,” He took out his phone and read Remus' text, “Hey bitch, need ur help, will text u address. Wear clean underwear lol.” He looked up from his phone, “Followed by a poop emoji, a devil emoji, a woman dancing emoji, and a crown emoji.”
“Sounds like a Remus text for sure.” Virgil snickered.
“I’m surprised you actually showed up with a text like that.” Janus said, taking a small tube of lipgloss from down the front of his dress and quickly touching up his lips before he continued, “Regardless, it’s good that you came, aware or not.”
“And will I be told what I’m here to do now or will I continue to play an endless guessing game until I get it right?” Roman huffed a little impatiently.
“We’ll clear our schedules for the next five years.” Virgil snarked, already walking towards the club’s entrance, “Come on then, we should get inside before you two freeze to death.” He gestured lazily to Remus and Janus, hauling the door open. Remus waltzed inside. “Let’s go, Ro! We’ve only got an hour to get you ready!”
Roman gave Virgil and Janus a semi-panicked look as Remus all but fucked off and left them all. “What does he mean by that?!”
Janus took his arm, patting it a little too close to patronisingly rather than reassuringly. “Hush now, we don’t have the time to waste. Follow us.”
He led Roman past Virgil and into The Palace without much more fanfare.
Roman took about a half a second’s glance around the place and decided that the name was ironic.
The Palace wasn’t by any means dirty or rat infested or mouldy, so clearly there had been a great deal of upkeep maintained over the years. Unfortunately, said upkeep was rather obvious. Patches of unpainted plaster repairs, a carpet that while scrubbed within an inch of its life had dulled from what was a plum purple to a sad mauve-burgundy, and walls decorated with well kept but outdated black pattern wallpaper that would look more at home at a blacklight retro disco. Frankly, in Roman’s opinion, the foyer of the club reminded him more of something he’d see in an episode of Stranger Things than a drag club.
Janus must’ve caught him staring and gave a soft hum. “Not a fan of the decor? Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to clean up before you arrived.”
“Oh, you needn’t have— Ah. Sarcasm.” Roman realised a little late.
He pretended Janus’ eyeroll and Virgil’s quiet snort of amusement didn’t make him feel even more stupid while the former dragged him by the arm through the foyer and past the entertainment area. It was better decorated than the foyer, looking like an actual club. It was clear the place was once a theatre of some form —Roman guessed it was a musical theatre rather than a cinema going by the layout of the main stage— but he had little time to dwell on things as he was hastily brought through to the backstage area.
Costume and makeup felt the most lacklustre compared to the grandeur of the rest of the building. It felt like the kind of backstage layout you’d see perhaps in a high school’s auditorium. Of course, that would be minus the abundance of wigs, loose costumes, and swaths of makeup on every surface. There were some doors labelled as dressing rooms though most of the queens were far more content to dress up and dress down in the open area if the current scene was anything to go by.
Roman counted at least eight queens milling about; some were applying makeup while others sat atop the dressing tables chatting away amongst themselves. One looked up from a rather animated conversation, locking eyes for a moment with Roman.
Said queen gestured for her (His? Roman wasn’t sure which pronouns to use now that he thought about it) friend to look over. Sure enough, the queen looked over and, with a smile, gave a small wave and returned to the conversation with the first queen. Roman wasn’t sure why, but he did feel a mix of pride and anxiety in his gut. He was no stranger to being noticed though he felt so out of his depth here; the closest he’d been to the world of drag was binge watching Ru Paul’s Drag Race for the whole fifth season and then forgetting to watch the following or previous season.
“Don’t zone out,” Janus’ voice cut through Roman’s haze. “As I said, time is short and we need to get you into a wig, makeup, and a dress yesterday.”
Sorry, what.
“Um, wait, hold on.” Roman stopped just as he realised Janus and Virgil had walked him all the way into one of the dressing rooms. “I thought you needed me to paint a set or fix the lights or whatever! You’re not seriously suggesting—?!”
“That you’re going to go on stage for one measly little performance since we’re one act down? Yes. That’s exactly why I had Remus call you. Such a clever, handsome boy you are,” Janus responded, utterly unapologetic.
In one quick movement, Janus picked up a tape measure and before Roman could process the situation, he was being measured from all angles.
“Hmm, you’re a little leaner than Remus, not as broad in the shoulders, but you look like you’re about the same for shoe size..”
Roman looked over at Virgil. “Surely he’s joking. This is a prank right? Remus put you up to this, didn’t he?”
Virgil snorted. “I mean, he absolutely put your name out there, but this is real shit, Princey.”
“Princey—? Wait no, I can’t do this! I’ve never done drag before!”
He barely had a second to protest before Janus tossed a red dress into his arms and placed a wig head onto the dresser table.
“Calm down, all you need to do is lip sync, dance a little, and not fall off stage. Think you can do that for me, pretty boy?”
Roman’s cheeks flushed a little at being called ‘pretty boy’ “Well, yes, I suppose but—”
“Perfect, then you’re more than qualified. Virgil will handle your makeup, once you have a drag alias and your choice of song ready to go, I’ll let our stage tech know.” Janus turned and barely looked back as he addressed Virgil over his shoulder, “Make sure you pick out a pair of kitten heels for him, I don’t want our replacement breaking his ankle too.”
Before Roman could further protest or ask about the broken ankle comment, Janus sashayed off into the unknown presumably to do pre-show prep. Well, what else was there to do but try and get this over with? He turned to Virgil who was already opening a glorified toolbox of makeup.
“Do you know your concealer shade?” Virgil asked.
“Oh, uh. No. Unfortunately.”
Virgil squinted at him, looking him up and down like he was looking for any hint of deception. When he seemingly didn’t find it, Virgil huffed. “Okay then, we’ll just have to go with… this one, I think.”
He picked up the shade in question, tossed Roman the concealer and Roman dropped the dress to catch it.
“Good lord, couldn’t you have handed it to me like a normal person?!”
The gothic queen rolled his eyes. “Get over it. Check your shade, and pick up that dress, it’s about the only thing we have in your size so it’s that or you’re going out buck naked.”
Roman was sure Virgil was joking… but he wasn’t taking chances. He picked up the dress and looked over at Virgil who just stared back at him.
“...Take a picture; I’ll look twice as unamused and you’ll die in seven days.”
“Calm down there, Samara, I’m just letting you know you can leave so I can change –”
“Dude, it’s fine. I’ll just set out the makeup while you do it.” Virgil shrugged, “I’ve seen like, a hundred guys of all types in far less than just their briefs, you’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before, Princey.” With that, Virgil went to his make up box and began hauling out all manner of eyeshadows, lip glosses, and several other things that all began to look like the same products to Roman.
“...Well, I suppose,” Roman grumbled, taking off his jacket and placing it on the coat rack by the door. “Seriously though, where did that come from?”
“Where’d what come from, Princey?”
“There, that. That ‘Princey’ nickname. Not that I oppose that nickname per se…”
Virgil sighed. “Lemme think. Your brother’s drag name is The Duchess, your letterman has a little gold crown on it that matches your phone charm, and you’re high maintenance as fuck. Therefore; Princey.”
“High maintenance?!” Roman huffed, shimmying out of his shirt. “You’ve known me for barely ten minutes, Scare-amore!!”
“Mhm, and I’ve juuuuust now decided that’s ten minutes too long.”
Roman gave an offended gasp. “Now I can see why you’re so fond of my brother. You have utterly abhorrent taste in men. Qué triste.”
Virgil flipped Roman the bird and decided to busy himself with checking texts on his phone. Or perhaps he was opening up google translate. Roman wasn’t sure so he just jumped right back to undressing.
Once his pants and shoes were off, he picked up the dress and gave it a proper once over; it was a cherry red sleeveless little number with a heart-cut bodice that would probably show off his figure well. The skirt part of the dress was on the puffier side, the ruffled off rose-white underside making it flare out just a little; the kind of dress you’d see some girl twirling about in at prom. He ran his hand over it for a moment to access the fabric feel and thankfully it wasn’t stiff nor was it a horrible texture on his skin.
Satisfied that he wouldn’t wind up chaffed and or uncomfortable, Roman unzipped it and pulled it up around himself. He felt a little silly – like a child playing pretend with their mother’s clothes – but when he caught himself in the dressing table’s mirror he had to admit it. He looked pretty good in it. He was right about it hugging his figure too, it actually made him feel a little sexier though he shook that thought away when a sarcastic wolf whistle broke him out of his self admiration session.
“Not bad, Princey,” Virgil commented, looking him over. “You look pretty passable.”
Eye rolls must be catching in this area considering Roman caught himself doing it too. “Thank you. Your kind words warm the depths of my heart and cradle it oh so gentle.”
Virgil chuckled. He set up two seats and sat on one. “Come on, Shakesqueer, we have about forty five minutes to do your makeup, hair, pick a name, and a song for you. Let’s get as much of it out of the way as soon as possible.”
Roman couldn’t argue with that. He took the seat and Virgil put out a hand as he asked, “Does the concealer match close enough?”
Shit. Roman quickly nodded. “Uh, yeah, here.” He handed it back and thankfully, Virgil decided to test it out rather than just take Roman’s word for it. He watched as Virgil squirted out a dot of it on his finger then took Roman’s hand in his own. He needed to actively stop himself from letting out a little gasp at the contact. Christ, was he really that touch starved? He knew it’d been a while since he’d been able to actually socialise but…
Virgil turned Roman’s hand over and swiped the concealer onto the back of his palm. He frowned, “It’s a bit on the light side, but fuck it. We can fix that with blush and some contour.”
He nodded dumbly. “Right. Of course.”
Virgil hid a huff of amusement as he began to work his magic; Roman wasn’t sure how to feel —he’d never had his makeup done before. Hell, the closest he could think of were the times he’d get his face painted as a child— but whether it was his touch starved-ness or the fact Virgil was being so delicate with him, the process was working wonders at relaxing him.
So much so he nearly missed Virgil snapping his fingers in his face.
“Earth to Princey, we need to come up with a name and music. We don’t have all day.”
“Right, um… how does one pick a drag name?” Roman asked sincerely.
Virgil shrugged unhelpfully. “Depends.”
“... On what, Misa A-Man-e?”
“Ah, great. I’m stuck with a weeb.” Virgil sighed, “It just depends; do you want a name that passes for a legit name? Do you want one that’s punny? One that’s glamorous? One that’s a straight up innuendo? It’s really down to each queen individually.”
The gothic queen stopped working on Roman’s makeup for the moment. “Look, don’t put too much thought into it, okay? It’s one show and then it’s over. You can just pick something you think sounds good... Now, close your eyes for a second while I powder you.”
Roman did as asked, expecting Virgil to stay quiet, but surprisingly, he kept going.
“If it helps, the name I used when I got started was The Femmie Gorgon— Don’t you fucking snicker at me, you rude bitch!”
Coughing as he chuckled, Roman apologised, “Sorry, sorry, it’s just a rather humorous mental image.”
“Ha ha, well if you don’t behave I’m about to get real fucking hilarious. Suck in your cheeks.”
Doing just that instead of pointing out that Virgil’s rebuttal made no sense, Roman waited for Virgil to apply shading to his cheeks and under his chin before he spoke up again.
“So what name do you go by now, then?”
“Anna Ryo,” Virgil responded idly, too focused on picking out lashes for Roman to elaborate.
“Anna Ryo? Is that a pun or…?”
Virgil seemed to settle on a pair of medium length curled lashes and explained, “Do you know anything about Japanese ghost folklore?” He shook his head.
“Figures.” Virgil sighed. “Well, you’ve obviously seen The Ring, right?”
Roman nodded, “Yes, obviously.”
“Cool. Samara’s ghost is what’s called an Onryou; it’s a type of spirit, they’re usually vengeful women who were wronged and came back to seek revenge. Some real girlboss shit.”
Putting on some lash glue, Virgil continued while he waited for it to get tacky, “Anna Ryo, Onryou, you get it, it’s just wordplay.”
“I see.” Roman nodded. “Though why pick that?”
“Well, I’m half Japanese on my mom’s side and I just really like cool supernatural shit. That and I wanted something unique. I was torn for a while between that or Phantasma Goria but Anna Ryo felt more me in the end. Anyway, we’re meant to be coming up with a name for you, not getting into my business.”
“I know, but I can’t think of anything. There’s too many possibilities!” Roman lamented.
“Okay, well… what are you into?”
“...I sincerely hope you don’t mean in the bedroom—”
“I will stab you in the eye with my eyelash curlers, I swear to god, Princey.”
“Okay, okay!”
He really wasn’t about to argue with the drag queen applying his false lashes. Thinking hard, Roman finally responded.
“... Don’t judge me, but I really like musicals. And Disney movies.”
Soft fingertips gently tested that the false lashes were properly stuck on before Virgil sat back down. “I mean, I’m absolutely judging you, just not for liking musicals or Disney. I like those too.”
Surprised, Roman gave Virgil an incredulous look. “You, of all people, like Disney movies? Goodness, I really didn’t take you for the colourful, singing, happily-ever-after type.”
“Are you kidding me? Disney’s got it all; queer coded villains, despair, pain, death, the works.”
“What?! Disney movies are bright and heartwarming!”
“Dude, there’s dead parents everywhere, and horrific deaths for most if not all their villains. Shit, Clayton gets hung in Tarzan, Ursula gets run through with a ship, and Gaston falls hundreds if not THOUSANDS of feet onto sharp rocks. And need I mention Scar getting eaten alive, or the very end of the A Girl Worth Fighting For sequence–?”
“But you can’t seriously keep making out that every movie is so dark, dreary, and death-filled!!”
“Uh, yes I can, but we’d be here all week.”
Roman pouted. “Be that as it may, how is Disney going to help me pick a name?!”
Virgil swore under his breath. “Stay still. Jesus, you’re like a toddler.” He began to fix the eyeliner he’d been applying and neatened the edges of the eyeshadow he’d applied earlier. “Pick a princess’ name, and uh… shit, I dunno, what’s your favourite colour?”
“Red, fittingly enough.” He glanced down at the dress he’d been given.
“Red. Okay, well, your drag name is your favourite Princess and a synonym for red, or a shade of red.”
“Hmm… well, I suppose that could work…”
As Virgil neatened up his make up, mostly adding some blush and highlights, Roman pondered over which princesses he could name himself after. For a moment, the name Mulan Rouge came to mind, but he scrapped it pretty quick. He didn’t want to be insensitive considering he had no asian heritage, and he really didn’t want Virgil to think he was being an asshole for the sake of a punny name.
Not to mention all he could think about was the devastating moment where the army came upon the destroyed village thanks to a certain emo nightmare dusting his face with lord knows what.
Maybe he should go classic. Snow White was out of the question of course, he couldn’t do much with that, but perhaps Sleeping Beauty would be best to work with?
Aurora… Yes, he could imagine that working well.
Now for something red.
“Hmm…”
He looked to Virgil’s makeup supplies while keeping his face still, lest he be yelled at again. The makeup strewn about came in a range of shades all with interesting names. Carmine Fantasy, Golden Midnight, Carousel Candy Pink; even some more out-there names like Blackest Parade and Under The Seafoam. They were fun but none stuck out to him to use as a potential name.
It was then Roman noticed the toolbox was covered in stickers; most were band stickers, some were Nightmare Before Christmas themed (he would absolutely be asking about them later), but something that stuck out to him was a sticker of a dying rose intertwined with a flourishing one. Captivated by it,  Roman mumbled under his breath, “Hm… Rose.”
Virgil —who had moved on to prepping Roman’s hair for the wig— stopped what he was doing, and queried, “Huh? Rose?”
“Yeah, um, I think I have my name. Aurora Rose?”
For a moment, Virgil was quiet, contemplative. He finally gave his verdict, “It sounds pretty basic. But good enough for a first timer, I guess.”
Roman huffed a little; sure Virgil was probably right but he didn’t have to say it.
Carefully lifting the wig from it’s stand, Virgil gave Roman a look he was quickly realising meant I’m about to give you an instruction, do NOT fuck it up.
“Right, I just need to get this on you. I don’t want any complaints, if you DO complain, I’ll kick you in your shins. If you fuck up the makeup somehow during this process, I’ll do worse than any amount of shin-kicking could ever manage. Clear?”
Swallowing, Roman nodded. “Crystal.” “Good.”
With little else being said, Virgil began to place the wig and Roman did his best impression of a living statue. Once it was pulled properly into place, Virgil began to brush and style the hair in little adjustments.
“...That’d actually make a good drag name.”
“Hm?” Roman queried, “What would?” “Crystal Clear.”
“And you had the gall to tell me Aurora Rose was basic.”
Virgil snorted in retort, “Because it is. Besides, Aurora’s a shit princess choice.”
Roman recoiled like he’d been shot. “You take that back—!”
“Hey! No sudden movements in the wig, fucking hell, Princey!” He hauled Roman back into position — for a scrawny looking guy, Virgil sure didn’t lack any strength. “And fuck you, I’m not taking it back. She’s the shittiest Disney princess. Why couldn’t you pick like, Merida or Eilonwy?”
“I’m sorry, back up. Who in the name of Walt When-You-Wish-Upon-A-Star Disney himself is Princess Eilonwy?!”
“Princess Eilonwy? From the Black Cauldron?” Virgil spoke like Roman ought to have known exactly what he was talking about. Instead, Roman frowned.
“That hardly counts! Besides, Disney disowned that whole film—”
“Because they’re pussies who can’t appreciate good dark, welsh fantasy. Not my fault the execs can’t appreciate the darker side of fairytales.”
“I’m coming to a startling realisation,” Roman deadpanned, blowing as a strand of hair bapped him in the face. Virgil fixed it with a couple of bobby pins and rolled his eyes.
“Really? And what would that be?”
“You totally had an emo phase in high school.”
Virgil laughed. “Bold of you to assume my emo phase isn’t still going strong.”
For some reason, that got a laugh out of Roman too. It took them a moment to realise someone was knocking on the dressing room door. Virgil checked the time, “Ah, that’s probably Janus.”
He called over Roman’s shoulder, “Come in!”
The person who walked in was very much not Janus.
The queen who stood there was dressed in a silver-grey power suit jacket coupled with the same shade of pencil skirt. The corset top underneath had refined black ribbon lacing that matched her classically styled black wig. Topped off with the apple martini headpiece and fancy black rimmed glasses, Roman got the feeling that she was toe-ing a line between campy and sophisticated.
“Janus asked me to check in with you both. Is he ready?”
Virgil hummed. “Should be, he just has to pick something to lip sync to and we’re home free.”
“That’s good.” The queen came to look over Roman like she was sizing up a rowdy student. Her eyes bore into him in a meticulous way that reminded Roman of his mother. Satisfied, the stern queen looked to Virgil with a far softer expression; again motherly, but like a proud one. Something Roman had never seen from his own mother.
“Estoy muy bien, Virgil. Marcus will want to see this too, it’s fine work.”
“Oh my god, no, Eden, this is NOT gonna end up as a Proud Dad Moment-”
Virgil’s protest was cut short as Eden called to someone in the doorway, “Marcus, mi amor, come see Virgil’s work!”
“No, E, don’t, I swear to goD—!”
“Too late,” Came the response of the queen from the doorway, “I’m coming to have a look!”
Roman felt just like a child’s first finger painting that’d been stuck to the family fridge; endlessly observed and silently judged. He watched as the second queen stared him down. Glittering pumpkin eyeshadow, an electric orange tutu dress paired with a black leather jacket, and several decals and piercings modelled after oranges told Roman the oddball lovebirds had a theme going on.
“Wow, he did great!” Marcus turned from Roman to wrap an arm around Virgil. “Our little drag baby’s doing so good!”
“You’re both only ten years older than me, tops.” Virgil grumbled, though Roman noted he made no effort to wiggle out of Marcus’ embrace in spite of his protests.
“We’re still your adopted drag mothers, you know this,” Marcus teased fondly.
Eden chuckled under his breath. “He may be overly enthusiastic, but he’s right, Virgil. We, as Marcus put it many times before now, called dibs. And that’s legally binding as I believe you remember from our numerous discussions on this exact subject.”
Virgil groaned loudly, looking at Roman like he was dead inside. He pointed to his face. “See this, Princey? Take note, it’s very important. This is the face of someone who has decided to welcome immediate death. Off to join the Black Parade and what not.”
Roman chuckled. “Go figure, I just assumed you were so overwhelmed with joy, your face and heart simply couldn’t handle it.”
“Ha ha, fuck you.” Virgil snickered in response.
Eden and Marcus shared a wordless look between themselves, like they were playing imaginary rock, paper, scissors; and it seemed like Marcus lost this time. He unhanded Virgil reluctantly.
 “Alright, I need to go update Janus. Make sure this one picks a song before he’s set to go onstage.”
And with that, Marcus left, leaving Eden alone with Roman and Virgil. Whispering quietly, Eden remarked to Virgil, “Él es muy lindo. Y él es tu tipo. ¿Crees que le pedirás su número?”
Roman blushed and Virgil flusteredly swatted Eden’s arm, hissing embarrassedly, “iÉl habla español, Eden!”
Eden met Roman with a surprised and much more cheerful expression. “iBien, muy bien!”
Before he could embarrass Virgil any further, Roman spoke up, “Um, I should probably talk with Virgil. We still need to discuss the music I’ll be lip syncing to so um… yeah…”
“Ah, sí, sí. I’ll leave you both to it then. You don’t have all that long actually, so do be quick lest we give Janus an aneurysm.”
“Okay, yep, sure, will do, now go!”. Virgil blurted as he all but hurried Eden out the door and gave an immediate sigh of relief. He anxiously turned back to Roman, feeling so much more awkward and embarrassed than before. “Uh, sorry about all that. It probably made you super uncomfortable, right?”
Roman shook his head. “No, no, it’s alright. Really. I’m just curious now; how’d they end up as your ‘adopted drag mothers’? They don’t seem that much older than you...”
“Long story short; my family aren’t exactly shitty about it but they really don’t get what I do and they’re low key kinda off put by it. I had a crisis or two early on when I started out here, and those two were always there for me. Really took me under their wing in their own ridiculous way. And now they see me like a son, even though they’re barely a decade older than me.”
“Huh. That’s… actually rather adorable.” Roman chuckled.
“Oh god, don’t validate their bullshit, please. Just talk music with me; do you have anything in mind? And if you suggest anything from Disney or a musical, that’s out of the question for tonight and probably forever. The last thing we want is Andrew Llyod Webber or the corporate mouse breathing down our necks because someone decided Part Of Your World is worth the lawsuit.”
Frowning, Roman gave a petulant pout. “Rude. And FYI, I would’ve gone with Once Upon A Dream.”
“Of course, because you’re so incredibly basic.”
He ignored Virgil and thought about his options, “Hmm, I suppose anything in the incredible Dolly Parton’s repertoire is-”
“Absolutely not something we’re letting a beginner like you try out, no.”
“Wooooooow.”
“Hey, it’s the house rules; you earn your Parton here. Anything else is fair game though.”
“Boo, you’re all terrible.” Roman groaned jokingly. He of course realised they were low on time and while his heart told him to pick something classic – a bit of Cyndi Lauper or something by Bonnie Tyler – he thought perhaps something a little more current might work. After all, his look didn’t exactly scream classics.
Roman tried to think back to his high school prom, but instead of remembering the music, all he could think about was being stood up by his date and wanting to go home so badly he faked being wasted so he had an excuse to leave. Finding out the next day that his date had stood him up to go hook up with their ex boyfriend just put the final nail in the Prom Was A Mistake coffin.
Roman sighed to himself, thinking, “Who knew he would be the heartbreaker—?”
Wait a gosh darn moment.
“Virgil, I think I have my song choice!”
Virgil nearly leapt out of his skin at Roman’s sudden outburst in the quiet that had elapsed. “Princey, you do that again and I’m going to skin you!”
“Sorry, but we don’t have the time!” Roman took out his phone and scrolled through Spotify to show Virgil his song choice. The emo raised an eyebrow, but he seemed less judgemental this time around.
“Marina, huh? Yeah, that’ll work.” Virgil turned to the cubby of shoes, picking out a pair of bloody red kitten heels with a ruby rhinestone encrusted ankle strap. “These are about your size, try ‘em on quick. Then you just need to pick out any last minute accessories and you should be good.”
Roman took the shoes, swallowing nervously and, cracking a joke, “Let’s hope no houses land on me once I get these on.”
With a snort, Virgil retorted, “Don’t worry, Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore.”
Roman chuckled lightly. Surprisingly, Virgil’s tone had felt less harsh, more playful this time. Maybe the emo queen could tell he was nervous. Roman couldn’t be sure but considering their time restraint, he undid the straps and put on both shoes. It felt… odd. Not necessarily bad, per se; just different. He gave standing up a go and almost wobbled right into Virgil.
“Watch it, Princey, we don’t need two queens with broken ankles.”
Roman frowned. “Sorry… ”
As he gathered his footing, Roman finally asked, “Janus mentioned before about a queen with a broken ankle, is that who I’m filling in for?”
“Yeah,” Virgil began, already putting away his makeup and laying out a similar toolkit of makeup and some other accessories on the table, “Cath Theene thought it’d be so funny —super fucking hilarious in fact— to try and install a stripper pole in her apartment while she was ten sheets to the wind. She didn’t read the instructions, climbed on it haphazardly and—”
Virgil whistled, mimicking a fallen tree with his forearm and making a crashing sound when it was laid flat.
Roman nodded, “I see. I hope my performance can do her justice.”
That dragged a deep throated laugh from Virgil. “Roman, honey, you could waltz your perky ass out on stage, take a massive fall, and dive straight into the audience and you’d still be doing Cath justice.”
Roman couldn’t help but snicker, internally trying not to preen at the perky ass comment. “Well, I’m about to do her memory one better than justice.”
“Good. Now, we have a bunch of costume jewellery here we keep incase of emergencies, and I’ve dug out some stuff like ribbons or whatever just in case you wanna spruce up the look. I’ll go fill in Janus while you look through this stuff, okay?”
Virgil needn’t have bothered asking considering he immediately left to go see Janus anyway, but Roman appreciated that it would save time, so he simply hummed in the affirmative as the door closed.
Roman perused the options with the same scrutiny one would a catalogue, mentally accessing each item in the toolbox: earrings, necklaces, rings, bangles, bracelets, even a few circlets and faux piercings had found their way in there too. Decisions, decisions, thought Roman as he settled on a pair of red marbled earrings. He was thankful that they were clip-ons considering he had let his one pierced ear heal back in ninth grade. Also fortuitous was the comfortable clipping mechanism. They didn’t pinch yet still felt secure.
Digging through the rest of the trinkets the way a raccoon sifts through garbage, Roman picked out a pair of elbow length white gloves and a lovely golden necklace to complete the look. With the ensemble look complete, Roman took a moment to stand in front of the full length mirror.
If you’d asked Roman if he ever thought he’d look good in a dress up til now he’d have been sure the answer would be no.
Now though…
Now he couldn’t deny the answer would be yes.
Roman turned gingerly to each side, then gave an awkward rotation. He felt… pretty. A part of him that was still stuck in the toxic masculinity his father had tried to enforce in him and his twin was telling him that he shouldn’t be happy about this. However, he managed to force that part of him into silence. He wasn’t looking at Roman Castillo anymore; he was admiring Aurora Rose.
A gleeful mirth he hadn’t felt in a long time rushed through him; he twirled in his dress – careful to avoid the wig flying off though it felt very firmly in place – and posed with purpose. The years of stress and anxiety he’d accrued with the instability of his painting career receded like the tides. He felt free in a way he hadn’t since he and Remus were children playing princes and pirates in their back garden. A genuine laugh escaped him as he twirled, utterly lost in his own little world.
“Enjoying yourself, Princess?”
Roman almost screamed, whirling around to face an amused Virgil. His cheeks flushed bright pink.
“I’m going to ask Janus to get you to wear a bell,” He grumbled, embarrassed.
Despite having ample ammunition to tease Roman, Virgil instead stepped closer to give him a proper once-over. Roman felt a little more than scrutinised under Virgil’s gaze; even if he thought he looked good, if Virgil disagreed that could toss all their work into the gutter. Thankfully, Virgil seemed satisfied. “Yeah, I like it. It suits you.” He took Roman’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you stageside before our last five minutes are up.”
Roman nodded dumbly, all but letting Virgil haul him towards the backstage. The process of handing off the music selection to Janus and being told where he would come in within the order of performers was a blur; by the time they’d taken to leave the dressing room and reached the backstage area, Roman’s anxiety had reared its ugly head.
Fuck, that’s right. He actually had to perform now.
It felt a little too real all too quickly. Sure, he looked the part —and probably awakened something in himself he didn’t have time to psychoanalyse at the moment— but he would have to go out there and lip sync with a dance routine he’d have to make up pretty much on the spot. And for how long? The whole song? A snippet? He’d never danced on this stage before, what if he fell off?!
Thankfully, Virgil took note of Roman’s change in demeanour and calmly pulled him aside. “What’s wrong, Roman? You feeling okay—?”
“I can’t do it,” Roman blurted in a terrified mumble.
“What? Princey, you can absolutely do this,” Virgil assured him. “You just go out there and dance and lip sync a little. It literally doesn’t have to be all that good. If you can’t dance, just make the audience laugh. Or be sexy. That works too.”
Despite Virgil’s more playful tone, Roman just got even more anxious.
“I’m going to ruin it. Fuck, I shouldn’t have come, you wasted all this time dressing me up and doing my make up—!”
“Roman.” Virgil stopped him mid ramble. “I’m saying this with all the kindness in my body; shut the fuck up.”
Roman gave a small huff of offence but Virgil just continued, “We literally just need you to go out there and look pretty. Wing it, have fun, that’s all we need from you then you can go home and do whatever it is you do. Okay?”
The unconvinced nervousness in Roman’s expression must’ve given him away as Virgil sighed. “Okay, come watch this.”
Virgil led Roman to the curtain; upon peeking out at the audience, Roman could see… frankly about twenty people sat at their tables, a far cry from what he’d imagined. Perhaps the lights distorted his view, but either way, Janus walked out on stage in a sleek evening gown dripping with gold sequins paired with hoop earrings and the same wig from earlier, though now paired with a large brimmed black hat that he must’ve stolen from the 1920s lounge he’d robbed to find his dress.
Janus had barely set foot on stage when the whistles and applause began. Roman figured the crowd must all be regulars.
“Good evening, my darlings. How are we all tonight?”
A thunderous response had Roman recounting the crowd, perhaps thirty people instead of twenty. He dragged his attention back to Janus.
“Tonight we have a very special performance; an exclusive performance by a first time queen! A Miss Aurora Rose! How excited are we, darlings~?”
Janus had to be part siren. That or the crowd was multiplying via mitosis each time. Roman was sure no crowd could make that much noise with only thirty people. He wasn’t sure if he preferred the idea of a smaller crowd or a larger crowd at this point. His worry blocked out the rest of Janus’ warm up while scenario after scenario popped into his head. Falling off stage, the crowd hating him, his wig flying off (that one felt like it may be a cardinal sin of drag), a wardrobe malfunction—
“Hey.”
Roman snapped back to the present as Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t zone out, Princey. Watch the act, take it in, and let it be an inspiration for your performance. You’re on last, so you have plenty of time to think of something, okay?”
Unsure still, Roman nodded.
“When do you go on?”
“After Janus. Then it’s Remus, then Marcus, then Eden, and then it’s you. After that, Janus will close it out with a closing routine.”
Virgil gestured back to the main stage and Roman waited for him to say something, however no words were needed. The music faded into life as Janus placed the mic to the side and used the buildup of the music to slowly saunter into position.
A spark of recognition hit Roman as the music settled into his brain; something by Caravan Palace. He vaguely recalled having heard the song once while painting in his studio late into the night. He didn’t recall the name, just that the music video was pretty wild and definitely some form of furry bait.
With little warning, the first lines hit and Janus performed.
No, that’s wrong.
Calling what Janus did a performance was an understatement.
Miss Lie-Gon took the stage and made it her kingdom for three minutes and fifty one seconds. Strutting like a runway model, sleek snappy movements that fit the beat so perfectly, each little acting flare boosting the performance, and never once did she let up on the sex appeal. Mesmerising, electrifying, the air crackled with an energy Roman couldn’t begin to grasp the words for. The click of heels on wood, gilded glimmers of light dancing in tandem with the glamorous queen on stage, the roar of patrons going so wild for the sight that it bordered on feral.
He’d never had one himself, but Roman was sure this must be what a spiritual awakening must feel like.
As soon as it had come, it was over. The music faded out and Miss Lie-Gon —now Janus once more— blew the audience a parting kiss.
From beside him, Virgil stood and fixed his hair. He shot Roman a half smirk of amusement. “Don’t zone out, Princey. You’ve still got a lot more to watch and learn.”
Before Roman could think to retort, new music started up and Virgil disappeared onto stage.
Virgil then proceeded to make that stage his bitch.
Anna Ryo was so very different from Miss Lie-Gon; where the latter was salacious, the former was bold. Where the latter was sophisticated, the former was wild. The difference was like night and day. Janus’ appeal lay in a tantalising performance that felt untouchable, a spectacle you were to only witness from a distance.
Virgil’s appeal was intimidating, in your face; the kind of appeal that has people screaming “step on me”. Anna Ryo was a building storm that beckoned you to come closer. No, dared you to come closer, come get a taste if you’re brave enough. Roman could see the appeal, the rock vocal (he wasn’t sure, but part of him thought the song may have been an Ashnikko cover) fit Anna’s dark gazes and snappy movements. Gravitational, each beat she hit made it impossible not to want to get closer. Her dancing made Roman feel like he had been ensnared in a spider’s web, and lord help him, he loved it.
He was so enthralled, he nearly screamed when Janus tapped a hand to his lower back,
“Captivating, isn’t he?”
Roman wasn’t sure why, but Janus sounded less like he was asking a question and more like he was teasing a younger sibling. He supposed that was just how Janus generally sounded given their interactions til now. He dragged his attention reluctantly from Virgil to properly address Janus who unfairly looked like he hadn’t even broken a sweat from his performance.
“He is. It’s… intimidating to be following that level of excellence.” Roman uttered, trying not to make it obvious he was trying to peek back at Virgil’s performance.
“Now, now, you’ll be fine. You’ve already done the hard part anyway.” Janus sounded so nonchalant it battled between putting Roman at ease and making him more anxious.
“I beg to differ…” He looked out to the stage in time to see Virgil wink at him to punctuate the lyrics, “No dickstraction can confuse me”, and fuck.
Oh no.
He felt a flutter in his stomach and quickly turned his attention back to Janus who looked far too amused.
“Then beg.” Janus smirked, adjusting his earring. “Roman, believe me when I say being on stage is as easy as breathing if you let go. Otherwise it’s still like breathing — only under water with lungs full of hat pins.”
Roman let out an anxious whine and Janus rolled his eyes. With a single finger hooked under Roman’s chin, Janu turned his gaze back to him, “Listen carefully. If you get into trouble, lean into the audience. Not literally, but dynamically. Engage them, make them feel special just getting to witness you.”
He punctuated his advice with, “Make them want you. And they won’t give a single fuck if you miss a lip sync or your dancing is sub par. Understand me?”
Roman nodded and Janus released him, “Good. Now, I’m going to go get your brother ready. You enjoy the rest of Virgil’s performance.”
He hated the knowing wink Janus sent his way as he left. And even in spite of it, he didn’t wait to keep watching Virgil’s performance. It may have only felt like a couple more seconds until the end of the song but Roman caught the signature half smile Virgil shot at him upon his return to the backstage.
“Enjoy the show, Princey?”
“So much”, he longed to say, but Roman simply shrugged, playfully responding, “It was alright, I guess—”
Virgil punched him in the arm; lightly but enough that Roman made a mental note that if he ever hung out with the emo nightmare again, he would avoid doing anything punch worthy. The little shit had a mean left jab.
“Asshole.” Virgil snorted.
“Ooh, where?” came Remus’ voice as he stepped up to go on stage.
Virgil didn’t humour him and instead gestured to the curtains. “Just go out there and do your thing, Remus.”
With an excitable grin, Remus clapped his hands together. “You know I wiiiiiill~!”
Roman watched as Remus stepped through the curtains to rowdy applause, rolling his eyes as his twin gleefully warned the audience, “Fair warning; the first two rows WILL become a splash zone!”
Deciding he didn’t want to find out what that meant – especially coming from his own twin – Roman struck up conversation with Virgil to hide his nerves.
“Was it the same for you? Your first performance, I mean, were you also nervous?”
Thankfully, Virgil glossed over Roman’s pathetic attempt to grasp the English language and gave a thoughtful pout. “Well, yeah. It’s fucking terrifying the first time you try anything, Princey.”
From a table next to him that Roman had been too transfixed to see prior, Virgil picked up a water bottle, popped the cap, and took a sip. Once he was done, he continued, “It’s hard to talk about it; not ‘cause the performance was all that scary, just, I told you before right? My family isn’t all that keen on what I do even if they’re not gonna be assholes about it. So I did all my makeup, I picked out a fancy dress, and then it hit me… I’d have to walk out there and know I didn’t have any real support to fall back on if I failed. I wasn’t working here yet so I didn’t have Jan or Remus either back then. I was all on my own if I fucked up. You on the other hand have Remus and me at least, if not Janus too.”
Virgil patted Roman’s arm comfortingly, despite the part of Roman that felt like he should be the one giving Virgil comfort instead.
“Besides, you’ve got it way easier. Just one night then you get to dip and never have to think about this ever again.”
An unexplainable weight began crushing against Roman’s stomach; just one performance, right…
“Still, it’s a lot of pressure,” Roman responded. “I don’t want to let everyone down.”
“You won’t. Honestly, you’re just filling in and everyone is aware of that. No one’s gonna come after you with pitchforks or torches, Roman.”
It didn’t put Roman at much ease, and Virgil must’ve picked up on it because he was silent for a beat before speaking again.
“...If it helps —and you can’t tell him I told you or he WILL skin me— but the first time Remus was performing, Jan told me he was so nervous he panicked and swan-dived off stage. It was a mess; he got pretty banged up, but apparently it also kinda put him at ease.” “How so?” Roman asked, astonished.
“Jan said Remus knew after fucking up that bad, he couldn’t do any worse. So now he goes out there and borderline lap dances the patrons like it’s his birthright,” Virgil deadpanned.
Roman wrinkled his nose. “Not an image I wanted, Virge.”
The emo chuckled, ignoring Roman’s protest. “Where did that come from?”
“Where’d what come from, Virge—?” Roman caught on, giving a snort in realisation. “Ah, right. Well, I mean… I’m not sure, just… Virge.”
“So articulate, very creative,” Virgil began, teasingly. “Such a bold new take, you should quit your day job and become an artist with all that creativity.”
Roman snorted in amusement. “I am an artist.”
Virgil took a moment to see if he was joking.
“...Really? Not, uh, not bad ‘really’, just, I dunno…”
The white foundation on Virgil’s cheeks began to lose out to the flushed rosy pink forming underneath them. “Just figured you did… something else.”
“Well now you have to enlighten me, just what did you think my job was?” Roman asked, both curious and teasing. Virgil looked so flustered, he needed to know.
“Uh.. I mean, at first I thought maybe something like… a model—!”
Roman hadn’t meant to laugh, but come on. It was hilarious. Even with Virgil swatting him flusteredly.
“You jerk! Don’t laugh at me!”
Roman threw up his arms in defence. “Sorry, sorry! It’s just so funny, I’m hardly model material!”
Virgil avoided eye contact as he muttered, “I wouldn’t say that…”
“Well, now I’m curious as to what you thought it was after you thought I was a model.. You did say you thought I was a model ‘at first’ so…”
Virgil groaned, “Promise you won’t like… get mad or laugh again, right?”
“...I promise, but now I’m a little worried.” Roman chuckled.
With a fond snort, Virgil exhaled nervously. “I thought… maybe, just maybe… you were uh… well… I mean if you are, it’s cool… just—”
He seemed to really struggle, so Roman softly prompted, “Virge, don’t worry, I won’t be upset—!”
“—A pornstar!” He blurted in a half whisper.
Blinking the startledness from his eyes, it was Roman’s turn to blush. “You thought I was—?!”
“Shut up! I figured y’know! You’re pretty good looking, you have a nice body–”
“I KNEW you were looking when I changed—!”
“Oh my god shut up, I’m gay, and very much not blind, you asshole!” Covering his flushed face, Virgil muttered, “I just thought all that made sense!! I always thought it was weird, but Remus told me you worked with naked men for a living—!”
“He WHAT?!” Roman whisper yelled. “Okay, well, I’m very much NOT a pornstar. And I haven’t painted a naked model since college!” He huffed, murmuring, “I don’t even have a boyfriend to paint naked.”
Virgil looked him up and down shyly, “...Why not paint yourself?”
Roman considered it but shook his head, “I couldn’t. I can’t stay still when I paint, and… I don’t like painting myself in my work. It always comes out…” Depressing. Unappealing. Pathetic. “...Looking wrong.”
Even with the music changing and Marcus swapping out for Eden —had Roman really not noticed the change over from Remus to Marcus?— the silence stretched a little too thin until Virgil finally filled it.
“...I can’t sit still to save my life —ADHD and all that shit— and I would prefer not being naked… but if you ever needed someone to pose for photos…” It looked physically painful for Virgil to make the offer. “Then I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you out sometime. You dropped everything to come help us so… it’d be the least I could do to pay you back.”
Surprised, Roman took in Virgil for a moment; he needn’t have offered, but he did. He didn’t try to wave off Roman’s insecurities and just tell him to overcome his crippling self image issues like it’s that easy. A traitorous flutter awoke again within him.
“...I’d love that. Thank you, Virge.” Roman responded when he noticed Virgil getting antsy.
Thankfully, that soothed Virgil’s nerves it seemed, “Awesome, cool, I’ll uh, take the pictures myself sometime and send them to you unless you need, like, proper photos—”
“Virge, it’s okay. You could send me selfies and I’d be glad to paint with them as inspiration. You don’t have to be so nervous.”
Virgil fondly elbowed Roman. “Hey, that’s my line. But I guess you don’t need me to tell you that now, do you?”
Virgil was right, Roman did feel far more at ease. He was still terrified about going on stage of course, but now he wasn’t thinking about it so much.
“I suppose you did.”
The rest of Eden’s performance came to a close while Roman stood waiting to go out. His nerves returned the closer the music came to ending though thankfully Virgil stayed with him.
“Just remember, it’s one performance, then you never need to do this again. Go out and have fun.”
Roman nodded with a security he still didn’t fully feel. “I’ll try my best.”
If Virgil was going to say more he didn’t get the chance; all at once, Janus reappeared from lord knows where and geared Roman into position behind the curtain, very quickly informing him, “The time is now, Roman. Good luck—”
“—And don’t fuck it up?” Roman supplied.
“Preferably.”
With little extra fanfare, Janus gently ushered him past the curtains and onto the stage.
The lights overhead blinded him but thankfully his highschool musical years had helped him adjust to it quickly enough to avoid awkwardly stumbling on stage. The applause felt suffocating and for the fainted moment, Roman’s mind went blank.
Shit, this was a bad idea. What was he thinking?! It’s been so long since he even got anywhere near a stage–!
As if grounding him, the music broke through the panic. The opening strum of the guitar hauled him off of the ground and set him right. He knew the words. Every inflection, every beat. All he had to do was perform. He took a deep breath and waited.
“Rule number one… is that you’ve gotta have fun.”
Heeding Janus’ advice, Roman let go. No longer Roman Castillo; he was Aurora Rose. And like he’d practised for weeks, he began to perform. Falling into the persona was easier than he had once thought; Aurora was a protective armour he wielded with a playful, alluring demeanour.
Roman may not have been perfect, but he lip synced to the lyrics he would hum around his apartment while cleaning, moving in ways he saved for his solo dance sessions in his living room — minus the profanities he’d spout whenever his shin would connect with the coffee table.
He had fun with it.
The pulsing beat of the chorus hit and by then Roman was running on the rush of performing.
Aurora was alive and loving every second. She swayed her hips with the music, shimmied and moved with the energy of a true party girl, and when she felt bold enough, she did as Janus suggested and leant into the audience. She winked, blew kisses, one lucky man in the front row close enough within range was blessed by the softest passing caress of the cheek. Aurora put on a hell of a show.
And the audience loved it.
They loved her.
Slowing things down before the final stretch of the song, Roman came back to himself for a brief second; he could feel the blood rushing through his veins and his lungs hammering in his chest. Like a headrush, he found himself in awe of the effect he had on the audience. He could feel them watching his lips, eyeing his slow movements. This was the final crank before the jack-in-the-box would spring free again, the seconds before the last fireworks burst.
‘Look at me’, Roman thought to himself, slipping back into the delirium that had swept him up at the beginning, riding the high of the oncoming crescendo, ‘Look only at me, I want your eyes on me, only on me.’
“This is how to be a heartbreaker–!”
Once more, Aurora broke free. Her lips caressed every non-existent word that left her lips while she gave it her all. Twirling spins, the click of her heels, each playful toss of her hair, not a single step was taken without a flourish. Still imperfect, a princess not yet a queen, but that didn’t stop her putting in every ounce of effort. After all, it was her one night of life, and then Aurora would sleep forever in her eternal tower; she wasn’t going down without being remembered.
Aurora approached the edge of the stage.
“Cause I lo-lo-lo-love you–”
She leant in, cupping her hand to her mouth, winking.
“At least I think I do~!”
The aftermath felt like an out of body experience; Aurora melted away and Roman stood there on stage while the audience went wild. With an excited bounce, Roman did his best courtesy —he couldn’t even care that he fumbled it a little— and exited backstage to Janus giving an elegant applause.
“Excellent job,” He congratulated, gesturing with a dainty flourish. “Remus and the others are waiting for you.”
Without another word, Janus walked past him, patting him on the arm as Janus disappeared to close out the show.
On autopilot, Roman made his way to the dressing area where Remus immediately bear-hugged him so hard it’s a wonder his ribs didn’t crush.
“Look at you, Ro!!! You did great!!”
Roman huffed, but he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Especially with Virgil looking at him like he was the coolest thing since the North Pole.
“You were great, Princey.” He smirked playfully. “A little sloppy, but otherwise, great.”
Roman gave an offended huff as he wriggled out of Remus’ hold, still beaming even in spite of Virgil’s playful teasing.
“Oh hush, you’re just jealous I might steal your job.”
Virgil rolled his eyes. “Oh I’m shaking. Besides, now you can go back to your art studio and become the next Leonardo Da Vinci instead.”
“Perhaps I will!” Roman chuckled with a confidence in himself that frankly, was nowhere to be found. The rest of his time with the queens was mostly spent receiving praise from the others and removing his outfit. It was strangely melancholic; as he went to remove the ensemble, he caught himself in the mirror again.
Aurora stared back. Her face didn’t suit a frown, that wasn’t how he wanted to remember her. Sure, he’d been all but hauled into some after show group photos at Remus’ request, but he still pulled out his phone and snapped some happier, smiling pictures in the full length mirror.
Now he could say goodbye to her. Right?
Roman began to change. Undressing now felt like readying himself for a funeral, but in essence, it was in a way. He tried not to think about it as he put on his pants and shirt, carefully trying to remove the wig pins when Virgil caught up with him.
“Lemme help you there, Princey.”
“Oh thank goodness, I thought I’d be trapped in this for eternity.”
Virgil snickered. “Yeah, yeah, just hold still…”
In the end, Virgil wound up helping Roman remove his wig and sat him down to remove his makeup properly too.
“You really did good tonight,” Virgil mused as he carefully removed Roman’s false lashes. “Especially for a first time performer.”
Roman blinked once his eyes were free of the lashes. He tried not to miss their weight.
“Actually, I’ve been on stage before, just quite a few years ago,” He admitted.
“Oh? I thought you were an art kid,” Virgil asked curiously.
“I dabbled in all the arts at some point. Music, painting, and acting.” Roman waited for Virgil to remove his makeup from around his mouth before speaking again, “My childhood dream was to be a star, to perform on stage and play all the greatest heroes! So I signed up for every musical our school would produce, and I landed quite a few good roles in my day.” His bravado faltered ever so slightly, “I always wanted to get back into it someday.”
“... So why didn’t you?”
Virgil’s tone was softer than a Persian cat but the question it carried felt like barbed wire against Roman’s heart. Virgil hadn’t meant it badly, he knew that, but the answer was painful to recall.
“...I’m not sure,” He lied. “But it’s alright. I have my painting, and that’s enough for me.”
Virgil didn’t look convinced but refused to push things further. “Well, as long as you’re happy. Now gimme your phone so I can send you those photos before my stupid ass forgets.”
Exchanging numbers and making sure all traces of the makeup was washed away, Roman waved goodbye to the other queens for what was likely the last time unless Remus brought them to visit. He could come visit sometime perhaps, but Roman tried not to think about it and stepped into the cold night air. After the warmth of the club coupled with the sweat worked up from performing, the chill settled in harshly. Roman pulled his coat tighter on the walk to his car while trying to stamp down the pit in his stomach as he reversed out of the parking space and made his way home…
---
The next four days felt so empty for Roman.
As usual, he woke up, threw on his overalls and shirt, and set about painting. Or trying to. Virgil had sent him plenty of great photos —including the group photo that made him feel a little warmer inside— yet the creative muse wouldn’t flow. Charcoal, pastels, ink, nothing worked to spark that fire. Desperation led him to other means than his usual sources, mediums like collage and print, but aside from half-hearted attempts, the canvas was blank.
“Oh Muses, why have you forsaken me…?”
Roman lay forlorn across his studio’s sofa, running his hands down his face in frustration. A groan slipped its way out like a ghost in the night; he needed to create something new soon, otherwise he’d never claw his way out of this artistic malaise. Times like this were when Roman lamented his fickle, perfectionist brain the hardest. Perhaps he should’ve quit painting a long time ago…
“...So why didn’t you?”
The question plagued Roman ever since Virgil had asked it. He knew damn well why he stopped performing, but admitting it was the hardest part.
“...Because I was scared.”
Blinking back to reality from his daydream, Roman sat up slowly. It was true; the first signs of trouble had him turning tail and running back to his next best creative outlet. He didn’t hate his art —not at all— but he resented what it had begun to represent. Isolation, failure, stagnancy. How long had it been since he’d been out with friends? Did he still have friends to hang out with? His work took days to months to complete on canvas, it left little to no time for socialising anymore. True, he’d been the one to guarantee gorgeous paintings in such a short timeframe… but that was only because well…
What else did he have?
The realisation brought Roman to his feet, though he had no idea where he was going until he’d grabbed his jacket and his keys. Without a second for doubt to set in, he drove to The Palace and hopped out in time to catch someone taking a smoke break outside. “Excuse me—!”
“We’re closed, come back later—“
Roman knew that voice. “Virgil?”
Virgil looked up from stubbing out his cigarette, sounding far more friendly, “Princey, what brings you here? We’re closed right now but if you’re here to talk to Remus—”
“I want to work here!” Roman blurted out, adrenaline still pounding through his system from his impulsive decision.
“I… I miss it, Virge. I know it was one performance but I—!”
“Hey, whoa, take a breath, Ro.” Virgil ushered Roman to come inside. “Janus is the one you should talk to. He owns the place, so he has final say.”
Roman gladly locked his car and followed Virgil inside. Approaching the stage area, the queens from last night were playing Uno at one of the tables; by the looks of it Remus was winning. They were mostly out of costume save for Janus who was wearing a black pencil skirt, a white blouse with the sleeves rolled, and what Roman assumed was a blonde wig tied into a messy bun with long strands at the front to frame his face. Even with more minimal makeup, he managed to look stunning.
“Uno, bitches! Suck my dick!” Remus declared. “Pick up your eight cards, Coffee Slut!”
The aforementioned ‘Coffee Slut’ flipped Remus off, picking up eight. “I fucking hate you, Remus.”
“Love you too, Remy.”
Virgil cleared his throat and all eyes fell on him. Roman could recognise most of the people present —Marcus and Eden were hard to miss, especially with the former all but sitting on the latter’s lap to play, and Remy he remembered seeing with the still-visible leg cast before— except three of them.
One was a friendly-looking fellow with dark skin, with candy pink semi-long curly pink hair with an undercut, dressed in a sandy cardigan littered with colourful pins and buttons. Another sported wavy chestnut hair and round spectacles —unlike the other two’s half moon glasses— that highlighted their big blue eyes, freckles kissing their olivine cheeks as they smiled eagerly at their cards. And the last was a tall, broad man with a pale complexion much like Virgil’s with piercing deep blue eyes and slicked back brown hair so dark it was nearly black.
“Oh, hey Virgil! Do you and your friend wanna join in?” Asked the shortest of the three.
“No thanks, Pat. I just came to get Janus for a moment.” Virgil smirked. “Besides, Remus cheats at Uno, no way am I playing.”
“YOU WHORE, I KNEW IT—!” Remy tossed his cards at Remus who did the same. Everyone around the table began arguing and Janus stood up, gesturing for Roman and Virgil to follow him while the table descended into chaos.
“This is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. What brings you back, Roman?” Janus asked as he led them into his office before sitting atop his desk.
“I want to work here,” Roman stated, determinedly.
Janus hummed. “I’d be happy to offer you a job, however our clientele, while loyal, only brings in so much. I’m not sure we could afford to hire you on top of fixing this place up—”
“Roman’s an artist,” Virgil interrupted. “Most of the fixing up is just repainting the walls and decor, right? If Roman offered to help out with that, it’d save us a lot of money since we wouldn’t have to hire a painter.”
Roman wanted to interrupt to say that his job was far from the level of an interior designer, but then again, he did entirely repaint his studio pretty damn well on his own. Plus, Virgil was out here trying to get him the job, so he nodded along. “I’d love to help out. I can afford the paint for the walls and I have a step ladder of my own I can use.”
Studying him with those piercing eyes, Janus was quiet for a while. A sinking feeling overcame Roman, each second convinced him Janus would say no. No, and back to his lonely life. No, and the closest he’d be to a stage would be watching the other queens perform if he could stomach to return.
No, and it’s back to isolation and failure—
“Alright.”
Roman blinked, shell shocked. “Sorry?”
“Spacing out while asking for a job is very rude,” Janus began. “But you’re lucky I’m willing to take a chance on you.”
Janus stood up, taking Roman’s hand and shaking it. “Welcome to a life of heels and tucking, Roman.” He smirked playfully. “Or should that be Aurora?”
~~~~~~
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thefloofinator · 2 years
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I thought that making tss ocs was cringe but idc anymore so yee, reject conformity and embrace cringe foo 😎 ummmmmm I have some of these clothing items, like neri's and Lupe's skirt, and all of Xochitl's fit, but everything else was just my smooth brain
Click for better quality <3
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i love how there’s a m/f, mlm and wlw version of this ship and they are all amazing
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ghosttb0y · 25 days
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Prinxiety as ponies <3
They’re so sun and moon coded I needed to draw these two 😭😭 their names are Thunder Meadow and Royal Note! I might do the other sides later but I’m not sure yet…we’ll see! Feel free to draw these two designs as well if you want!
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transfemlogan · 3 months
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CREATIVITY "WENTZ" UNDEAD !!!
I have had this sketchbook since april 4 my bday & i was scared 2 draw in it :P
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fangirltothefullest · 7 months
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uhhhh how about draw ur favorite oc interacting with ur fave SaSi character 👀
Oh my god what a fun concept! But I think I'm going to have a side meet the Startcrossed character that's the most like them. Which is fun! Considering they started as Side fusions, they ended up having personalities much more similar to one specific side over another or sometimes different entirely.
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loganslowdown4 · 2 months
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Doctor: Do you exercise?
Patton: Oh yeah, I do all of them! Push offs, plonks—
Doctor:
Patton: Uhhh cronchies, sit-downs—
Doctor: I’m just gonna put no
Patton: ok
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doggocake · 3 months
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·°Mallow Sides°·*+
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Some of my oc's dressed up as the Sanders Sides ^^
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blackoutbugza · 2 months
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“nico” “nico” nee
get it because like nico instead of niko because I’m drawing nico flores from sanders sides and not an anime girl hahaha i’m so funny please laugh
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i don’t actually think i’ve drawn this goober yet and i barely ever see him around the fandom even though he plays such a big role in the show. boy deserves more attention <3
refs/extras under cut
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omg mari real
here’s the background i used and another version of the drawing without the camera thing or whatever it’s called (for my picky eaters)
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skeletinmoss · 6 months
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I'd say it now I feel no remorse.
Last time I drew Remy I shipped him with the other side of the pillow, and Otto is kinda joining already existing couple so it's a threesome... Remy Otto Emile as I decided
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But you know, fuck it. Let's give Remy a whole harem of hotties. I present to you the harem in order of joining. We have:
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Otto
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Bruce
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Oscar
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Noa ( He/They)
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Maofeng. Mao for short
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And Oliver
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queen-of-hobgobblers · 6 months
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When you make a ship between OCs and realize they’re basically just genderbent copies of other ships.
“... Wait a minute, this is just mlm Percabeth-”
“This is heterosexual Logince.”
“Is this... wlw Alenoah...? I made them years before I even watched Total Drama!”
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thefloofinator · 1 year
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(Click for better quality <3)
Happy Halloween from Sophie and the gang <3
I wanted to do a little something to represent all my interests so here we have it!
From left to right:
Xochitl(Creativity) - Nina from the grishaverse
Neri(Anxiety) - Ryan from Infinity Train
Sam(Logic) - Annabeth from PJO
Eden(Deceit) - Persephone from hadestown
Itzel(Intrusive thoughts) - Crowley from Good Omens
Lupe(Morality) - nothing lol my clothes ig
Me in the center in my hoodie!
Happy Halloween 👻🎃👻🎃
- Sophie
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anxiousandindenial · 8 days
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I hopped on a very very old train. I turned the Sanders Sides into SCPs. These are all made up by me. I will be releasing their 'files' one by one, each week, for the next few weeks. Understand that these are not nor will they likely ever be part of the official SCP database, as hey are based on characters from another source, and draw pretty heavily. If anyone makes art of this, I will love you forever, until the day that I die and go to Hell and beyond.
First up, we have the wonderful Logan Sanders, who is now:
Item #: SCP-18175 (L.O.G.A.N.)
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-18175 is to be contained within a standard humanoid containment chamber at Site-████. The chamber is to be equipped with reinforced steel walls and an observation window. Security personnel are to monitor SCP-18175 at all times via closed-circuit cameras.
SCP-18175's containment procedures require Dr. ███████ to enter the containment chamber at least once per hour for routine checks and interaction. In the event of SCP-18175 becoming agitated, security personnel are to engage in de-escalation protocols until the anomaly returns to a calm state.
Under no circumstances is SCP-18175 to interact with █████ █████. All personnel must adhere to this protocol strictly.
Description: SCP-18175 is a robotic entity resembling ██████████ composed of unidentified metal-like plates. When calm, the gaps between these plates emit a dark blue glow, while its ocular sensors emit a similar hue. However, when agitated, the glow transitions to an intense orange, and SCP-18175 displays aggressive behavior towards any nearby individuals.
The significance of the designation "L.O.G.A.N." remains uncertain, though it appears to hold emotional significance for the anomaly. Further research is required to elucidate its meaning.
SCP-18175 exhibits technopathic abilities, allowing it to █████████ ████ ███ ██████████ ██████████ ███████ ██████ ███ ████████. The entity becomes increasingly agitated when left unattended for extended periods, with a threshold of approximately three days before agitation manifests.
The composition beneath SCP-18175's metal plates remains unknown, as attempts to investigate its internal structure have been unsuccessful.
SCP-18175 was recovered on ██/██/████ from ██████ City. Its origin and potential connections to other anomalies, including SCP ██ , warrant further investigation.
Update: Following continued interviews conducted by Dr. ███████, SCP-18175 disclosed the meaning behind its designation. "L.O.G.A.N." serves as an acronym for "Lethal Operations Guardian And Nemesis."
Update: Due to repeated attempts by SCP-18175 to access █████ ██ ███████, containment protocols have been revised to ensure spatial separation between the anomaly and the restricted files.
Update: Dr. ███████ has proposed the hypothesis that SCP-18175 may consist of two distinct anomalies, designated SCP-18175-1 and SCP-18175-2. SCP-18175-1, identified as L.O.G.A.N., exhibits docile behavior, whereas SCP-18175-2, which we have classified as The Warbot, manifests as an aggressive antagonist triggered by SCP-18175-1's emotional state. Notably, SCP-18175-1 appears to lack awareness of SCP-18175-2's actions.
Update: Following multiple incidents involving SCP-18175-2's hostile behavior, Dr. ███████ has recommended termination of SCP-18175.
Update: SCP-18175 has evaded containment, with Dr. ███████ present during its disappearance. Dr. ███████ has declined to provide further information regarding the incident. Investigations into the anomaly's whereabouts are ongoing.
@thatsthat24
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puzzled-pegasus · 7 months
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how come it's always "who is the top and who's bottom" and not "when they ride a horse together who sits behind whom"
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