#tss fic

[astrowillscreamintothevoid]

for the completion of syzygy i present,,,,,

a meme art

youre welcome

love ya min <3333 @sometimes-love-is-enough

@syzygy-podfic-project

#syzygy #syzygy fic #syzygy fanart #art #tss au #tss fic

[pencilpat]

Sanders Sides: College AU - Part 4

Character sheets | Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Despite starting out with future dukeceit, this is primarily logince content lol. Logan is a transfem nonbinary person and Janus is transfem in this AU.

Janus considers the strings she's laid while Remus sits by, uncharacteristically anxious. Roman and Logan go on their first date as a queerplatonic couple, and while Roman's lavish lifestyle rubs her a bit wrong, Roman himself has undoubtedly charmed her.

5,096 words

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Not unlike any morning before, Janus wakes up with a hangover. Thank god it’s the weekend, and a day she doesn’t have to work, because she thinks if she had to function as a human being she would push someone down a flight of stairs if she felt frisky enough. She tries to push herself up, but her arms shake and give out the moment she tries to put her weight on them. She groans, rolling her eyes at her own body. Opting to force herself to roll over onto her back and sit up that way, she notices about half way through the upward struggle that her apartment smells like food. Successfully upright, she stares at the door, the concept of Remus cooking for her making her, oddly, slightly angry at him. She knows it’s irrational and sighs at herself, throwing a grey sweater over her old t-shirt and pyjama pants as she makes her way out. Her apartment’s shitty heating is starting to not be enough for the colder weather.

The sound of sizzling is filling her kitchen, and she leans on the outer side of the island, staring at Remus at the stove in the corner facing away from her. Janus clears her throat dramatically against a hovering fist. Remus spins around with his tongue poking out, wide eyes looking at her like she caught him committing a crime.

“Oh, Janus! Um. Hi!”

“Hello.”

“I’m making food!”

“I can smell that.”

Remus pauses, scratching his calf with his foot. “Uh. Want some?”

“Depends. What are you making? And how dirty was the pavement you seemingly picked this food up off of?”

Remus laughs, a weirdly soft, genuine sounding one for him. “Oh c’mon, you know I went to the store, I’m not that crazy!”

“You’re not crazy,” she immediately corrects him in somewhat of a snap. Remus straightens up slightly at her tone, blinking rapidly, one of her spatulas hanging from his hand. Janus catches herself, sighing. “Just- Don’t talk to yourself like your mom did, okay? Anyway. What are you making?”

“Uh, just pancakes ‘n eggs. I figured you would get mad if I spent money on meat for you, so, I just got quick mix batter and a cheap thing of eggs!” Remus is scratching his calf again, not making anything close to eye contact even though he’s smiling. Janus feels cold in her chest, seeing him seemingly anxious over the potential of hurting her feelings.

“Eggs sound great, Remus. How did you remember I enjoy those?” she says, keeping her voice light and playful. Remus perks up slightly, seeming less downtrodden.

“Dunno! Maybe I’m magic,” he shrugs, grinning and turning around to flip a pancake.

“How are you good at cooking and I’m not?” Janus teases, leaning more of her weight on the counter as her weakness seems to feel more poignant suddenly. Remus doesn’t turn around for a moment, before flipping the final of five pancakes onto one of her plates. He ends up not answering at all, seemingly distracted by the food. Janus doesn’t have a kitchen table, so Remus carries the plates over onto the pullout couch, setting the eggs and syrup bottle next to it. He walks up to Janus and begins touching her and she swats at him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh- Sorry! I was gonna help you to the bed!”

“Remus, it’s like three footsteps, I’m fine.”

“But you’re sweating,” he pouts. Janus rolls her eyes and pushes herself off the counter, stumbling around and sitting on the bed.

“There, see? Shockingly, I’m not helpless.”

Remus chuckles, yet again weirdly soft sounding for him, and sits across from her, grabbing up two pancakes, sandwiching eggs in the middle, and eating it like a sandwich. Janus snorts, then covers her mouth slightly, clearing her throat. His ridiculousness can be genuinely entertaining, whether she likes it or not. She picks up one of the forks he brought over and skewers some eggs. As she tastes it, she realizes he bought cheese and spices too, and along with the eggs she swallows guilt at being so aggressive to him last night.

“So, where were you at last night?” Remus speaks through a mouthful of food.

“Just out.”

“I don’t know any of the bars on this side of town. Seems like they’ve got good stuff!”

Janus cringes. “Uh, yeah, sure. I don’t know.” She stabs more eggs, and her mind drifts to the hazy memories from Blacklight Mamba. She bites down on the eggs hard, the feeling of seeing that stupid purple patched hoodie from across the bar fresh in her chest. Virgil seemingly having such a sweet, innocent little partner makes her feel ill. Jealousy or anger or worry over the partner? Who’s to say. “How have the rest of our old pals been, Remus?”

Remus stops chewing with the look of someone caught in the middle of two fighting lions. “Why d’ you ask? I figured you would want me to mention them as little as possible,” he laughs.

Janus picks at her nails. “Indulge my curiosity, why don’t you.”

“Erm,” Remus swallows hard. “Well, I got cut off from our parents and about the same time Roman got accepted to the same college as Virgil. Our parents gave him a huge old house with a bunch of rooms and they pay for it and give him an allowance! Can you even? Anyway, Virgil lives there with his partner, Patton, and I was living there in secret for a while under our parent’s noses,” he rambles on. “But then Patton decided to be a dick about me liking weed, and they screamed at me like I was a fucking kid or something, told me I had to move out, else I was being kicked out. And yeah, then I texted you. Now I’m here.”

Janus tries to eat her pancake casually, reassessing her thoughts on this Patton character. “Seems like an interesting turn of events. As co-dependent as you and Roman always were I’m shocked he let you be-“

Remus swats at her hair, startling her into stopping. “We were not co-dependent, what?! Come on, man, we just care about each other like any twins would.”

“Roman literally used to sleep in your bed when you first started hallucinating,” she offers up, deadpan.

Remus makes a warbling, gasping sound, gesticulating at her like she just implied the sky is red. “He was just taking care of me! I mean, no one else was.”

“If you feel that way,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. Janus cuts away a bite of pancake with the edge of her fork, a bit too violently. Patton definitely didn’t know who she was, and that is for the better. She smirks around the bite of food as she imagines Virgil seeing her high school contact name in his partner’s phone. That ought to be fun.

“What you smiling about?” Remus says, eating his third pancake yet again like it’s a sandwich. She notices him leaving most of the eggs for her, glancing up to meet his eyes.

“Just thinking, is all.”

“Penny for ‘em?”

“Remus, no one carries cash anymore, I know for a fact you don’t have a penny.”

To her surprise, he fishes in his cargo pants’ pocket with a big smile. A dime comes out rather than a penny, and he scowls at it. “Guess you owe me ten of your thoughts now, madame!”

Janus rolls her eyes. “I was just thinking about how much my head hurts, you doofus.” Remus squints at her, knowing instantly that Janus isn’t being honest. He decides to just let it go though, and flicks the dime at her. She catches it out of the air, winking at him as she spins it between her fingers.

“Guessing that’s the most money you’d let me give you directly,” Remus snickers.

Janus frowns at him. “Forgive me for not wanting handouts from a former trust fund baby.”

Remus throws his hands up defensively. “I’m not a trust fund baby anymore though! I’m just your regular civilian with a hardworking job.”

“Tattooing is not exactly an example of the typical civilian job. Try fast food for even a week. You’d crumble into pieces in a day.”

Remus gesticulates towards her, pursing his lips with an expression of conceding agreement. He pops the last bite of his pancake into his mouth, then splays himself backwards on the end half of the pullout bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe Janus will be honest with him one day. If he keeps treating her nicely, she might remember what it was like to trust a friend. He peeks at her eating her final pancake, seemingly as at peace as she can get as she eats something he made just for her. It’s a nice sight, and he can’t help a slight smile and light blush dusting his face. Maybe one day, maybe one day.

--

Monday afternoon, wind tosses leaves about as Roman stares hard at his phone, his entire face creased with a mix of emotions. He messaged his twin two days ago to tell him about his new partner. Remus is always excited for him and his romantic conquests, no matter how short and spontaneous they’ve been in the past. Yet, it has gone unreplied to, not even opened seemingly, as it doesn’t read as ‘seen’ either. He sets his eyes in his hand, leaning over himself on some random park bench while he waits for the others to finish their classes. Did he really mess up that badly by asking him to move?

He reopens his phone, checking again uselessly, in case he missed something somehow. Knowing that Remus is with Janus, too, has been making him wake up in nervous sweats. There’s a taste of intentional betrayal, in choosing to stay with her specifically, but Roman isn’t sure if Remus is smart enough to take things like that into consideration. His foot is tapping so hard it’s echoing slightly in the empty courtyard. Am I really that shit of a brother? he thinks to himself miserably. He pulls his red jacket tighter over himself like it has the magical abilities to hide insecurities too.

The faint sound of the bell inside the building closest to him sounds the toll that sends herds of students out to change classes or head home. He spots the others crossing the yard in a little group. As they move closer Roman sees Patton is holding a very grumpy seeming Logan’s hand, and Virgil is pink from laughter.

“Now, what happened here? Are we swapping or something?” Roman puts his hand on his hip, smiling. Virgil immediately begins laughing into his hand again, and Patton also giggles.

“I was holding Virgil’s hand, and Logan accused us of showing off,” Patton faux whines, swinging their hands as Logan stares directly at the ground with a red face. “So, I told her her hand was just lonely, and I helped it out!”

Logan sighs, very loudly. “Patton, it is a hand, it cannot get lonely. May I be free now?”

“Well, considering there’s a new friend for your hand…” Patton drags Logan’s hand over and places it into Roman’s which makes both flush instantly. “I can let you go!”

“Patton, please,” Roman scolds, letting go of her hand and covering his face as he turns around to face away from them all dramatically. Virgil loses it, laughing hard into his hand and doubling over. Logan seems to be attempting to tune out entirely, her eyes being closed and her fists gently clenched with sheer embarrassment.

“That aside,” she speaks up, a little too loudly. “Roman, we have places to be. Patton was taking your car home, and I’m driving us, right?”

Roman breathes in deeply and turns around to face the group again. “Actually, Lo, we don’t need to take your car – I made arrangements.” Roman practically purrs the last word, smiling to himself proudly.

“Arrangements?”

“Since I’m taking you to a very nice place, I got a limo. I wanted to give you a true experience.”

Logan doesn’t look as pleased as Roman thought she would, just adjusting her glasses with a slight frown. “I don’t see the purpose. My car is perfectly functional. It feels very showy.”

“Showy is the point, dear Lo! We’re going somewhere er… more my family’s taste, if you know what I mean.” Roman watches her frown not change, internally panicking a bit. “I just… wanted to treat you to something really nice, for my turn paying. You deserve nice things.” He holds her hand, meeting her eyes nervously. She looks back at him, and her face melts slightly, the frown turning into a more playful, soft one.

“Alright, Roman. I understand you want to make it special, as the first one. Just do not spend recklessly like this for any of the other dates.”

Patton and Virgil depart to find Roman’s car in the student parking lot, and Logan follows behind Roman as he walks towards the front of campus to meet the waiting car. Behind him she rolls her eyes at the exuberantly glimmering white limo, being gawked at by students as they leave for the day. Logan attempts to cover her identity with her hand as the driver exits and opens the door. Roman pats the man’s shoulder and when his hand moves away Logan sees he’s wordlessly left a bill in the man’s pocket. She tries not to feel sour about that, pausing and muttering “thank you,” to the man, who smiles at her.

The inside of the car is purple, both in lighting and seat color. Logan flips her skirt under her as she sits. Roman is already reaching into a miniature fridge and pulling out travel size bottles of wine. Logan makes an uncomfortable noise before she can help it, and Roman looks over at her. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t drink. At all.”

“Why not?” Roman asks, casual.

Logan’s shoulders tense, and she shifts slightly in place. “I have bad experiences with it.”

“Oh,” Roman says, glancing at the bottles. “Well, then I shan’t leave you sober alone!” The bottles are popped right back in the fridge, and he slams the door shut with a resolute grin. Logan blinks rapidly for a moment, her brain seeming to calculate him in a different manner than before.

“Thank you, Roman. What restaurant will we be going to? I was wondering this morning why you were in such fanciful clothing.” She regards his ironed black button up and dark red suit, accompanied by lavish yet simple jewelry. She thanks the stars that all her clothing is rather nice and professional, tugging at her tie to tighten it.

“It’s a hibachi bar!”

“That is not as fancy as I had thought.”

“Oh, Lo, that’s cute. This place is… There will pretty much only be other bigheaded suits at the other tables having business meetings about major companies.”

“Hm. Unpleasant.”

“Er- Yes, but,” Roman reaches across and takes her hand into his black gloves, smiling at her with shining eyes. “We only need focus on you and I, at our own table.” He pauses for a moment. “Plus, the amount of food you get here will leave enough for you to portion for a week at least,” Roman tantalizes.

Logan cracks a smile, rolling her eyes just slightly. “Ah, I see you are using my love of pre-planned meals against me.”

“I need some kind of ammunition to get you to let me spoil you!”

--

Even his hyping up of the fanciness of the restaurant was underselling it. There is an entrance hall where a man in a suit offers to take their coats, to which both decline. The red carpet is lush and well-cleaned, and the walls are black marble with carved pillars stretching to the high ceiling. The man pushes open the black wooden doors and gestures for them to follow. Logan feels frozen, hesitating in the hall. Roman’s hand suddenly touches hers.

“Are you alright?” he murmurs gently against her ear. She turns to look at him, seeing his lightly worried face.

“I don’t- I don’t know if I’m right for a place like this.”

Roman stands in front of her with a wave to the host to hold on. He brushes at the cowlick in her hair, tucking it behind her ear. He adjusts her glasses with a hum, pats at her vest and tie. “I think you look splendid. I’d be shocked if someone doesn’t mistake you for royalty,” he mutters, smiling at her sweetly. Logan’s face turns pink, and she looks at the floor.

“If you’re certain.”

The host leads them in, and Logan takes in several black hibachi grills spread around a large open space. There are private non-grill tables behind partitions painted lavishly with birds of paradise. Roman leads her along. She can’t help noticing that everyone at the grills is dressed in similarly lowkey designer clothes like Roman. The ‘old money’ look and air about them puts her off entirely, making her stance awkward and stiff. Roman’s hand holding hers grounds her though, even as they pass a table and someone mutters about ‘the Carmona’s boy.’ She watches Roman suddenly stand with even better posture and puff himself up.

“They must know my father,” he whispers to her as they’re sat down with menus. “Or my mother. I get recognized sometimes because of, erm…” Roman gestures to the marks of his piebaldism with a scowl. “Stands out a bit among the menagerie.” He does a flowing gesture with his hands and rolls his eyes.

Logan hums quietly in thought. Roman sits half turned in his seat in order to look only at her. “I already know the menu, why don’t you take a look, hm?” Logan nods, and opens the menu. And dear god. Prices in the 100s hit her in the face like a truck. She glances around the laminated page, desperate to find anything at a reasonable price. Roman’s hand appears in her view, and then draws her chin up to have her look at him.

“Price doesn’t matter, don’t fret so much,” he soothes. “I know it seems like a lot, but look how much food comes with it.��� He points to the cheapest thing available, shrimp fried rice. Logan reads it shakily, and sees that it comes with a noodle dish, rice, shrimp, vegetables, soup, and a dessert of which there two courses. She bites her lip, considering. It is a lot of food, at $59.00. That will do, she supposes.

A young male waiter greets them politely, and Roman orders the fried rice dish with chicken instead, as well as a teriyaki steak. Logan tries not to get dizzy at the price of that one. She orders the fried rice somewhat timidly. Logan thanks the waiter pointedly, to which Roman also thanks him, finally giving even a hint that he appreciates the workers around him.

The waiter leaves, and they chat idly until he returns with a tray and two bowls of soup.

“Chirirenge,” Roman flounces, holding up the spoon that comes with the dish.

“Pardon?”

“Asian soup spoon! It’s called a chirirenge.”

“Ah, you’re right, they are. Something about looking like a lotus petal? I’m not one for metaphors. To me it just means it holds more soup. You know Japanese?”

“Ehh. I’m nowhere near fluent anymore, so don’t expect me to speak any. I learned several languages as a little kid, from a tutor.”

“Fascinating. Do you remember much of any of them?”

“Yo hablo algo de español,” he says, titling his hand from side to side to imply how iffy his knowledge is. “My mom travels in South America often; she’s starred in quite a few smaller movies over there.”

“Yo también hablo español,” Logan says, happily surprised. “I’ve always wanted to travel there, some day. The landscape is beautiful…”

Roman gasps, touching her hand. “I have to take you some time! Wouldn’t a trip be fabulous?”

Logan hesitates, cringing. “I’d prefer to work to a place in my life where I could pay for it myself.”

“Oh,” Roman says, quieting. He puffs up, and squeezes her hand. “Well, when that day comes, I hope I’ll still be here to go with you and show you my favorite towns.”

“Thank you, Roman.” Logan nods and smiles at him, appreciating the effort to act like he’s not rich, even if for a moment. She turns and begins tasting the broth soup. It’s incredibly good, to her surprise, and she lets out a noise of enjoyment, taking many more bites. Roman is smiling at her as he watches her enjoy herself openly, when he feels the hair on his neck prickling.

Lo notices Roman glance over his shoulder at that table from before. “Old hag staring alert,” he snickers, sitting up straighter. “God forbid an actor’s child exist in a public space. I swear if she calls paparazzi of any kind, ugh.”

“Your mother is famous enough for that?”

“Eh, it depends on if she was in any films recently, she’s more of a star in some cult classics and smaller films. Usually I don’t even get noticed, but this woman must be a fan,” he says, sounding sick on that last word. Logan glances too, and sees an older woman staring at Roman’s back hungrily, tense in her seat. She turns away quickly, feeling a bit disturbed.

“I always thought of fans as a pleasant part of being famous.” She notices how uncomfortable Roman looks, and lifts her hand, hovering in the air hesitantly for a moment before she rests it on his gloves. “Don’t let it ruin our fun, Roman. I’m sure it will be okay.” Roman smiles at her thankfully.

Both were too distracted to notice the chef and his cart pulling up to their table, and he clears his throat to get their attention. They both turn to face him, and he laughs, then begins lighting the grill up. Logan jumps when he starts sharpening knives against each other, and Roman giggles at her. The chef pours oil onto the grill and it sizzles loudly. He tosses vegetables on and begins chopping them up, eventually moving them into a pile.

“Lean back,” Roman warns, and Logan almost doesn’t have time to do so before a burst of flame lights up in the oil from the controlled blowtorch the chef wields. Logan reels back; she grabs and adjusts her glasses a tad frantically as both Roman and the chef laugh at her reaction. “It’s her first time!” Roman offers heartily. The chef chuckles and winks at him.

He stirs around vegetables a bit more, and then scoops a tiny piece of zucchini onto the blade, nodding to Roman. Roman nods back excitedly, and Logan watches in confusion as he holds his mouth open. The chef tosses the bit of food across the table, and Roman catches it in his mouth, laughing. By the time Logan looks back the chef is looking at her with a piece ready. She nods, hesitantly holding her lips apart. Not apart enough, as the piece hits her lip and falls, she fumbles but catches it in her hand, holding it up to show she saved it. The chef and Roman both laugh and start clapping for her as she sheepishly pops the tidbit in her mouth.

The veggies get pushed to the side to cook, and the chef pours more sparkling oil onto the grill. Logan watches in fascination as he puts some long, flat noodles on, douses them in two different sauces, and then stirs them around and around on the grill, before depositing them to the side to cook.

He walks around and sets two large plates beside their soup bowls, winking at Logan. “Enjoying your first, miss?”

“Yes,” she admits, glancing at Roman. “I am.”

The chef, behind the grill again, shovels heaps of vegetables on each of their plates. Logan adjusts her glasses, a bit wide-eyed at the sheer amount of food. And there’s more to come? Perhaps Roman wasn’t joking about having weeks’ worth of leftovers. She unwraps chopsticks and a fork from the pre-laid place-setter napkins and uses the chopsticks to bring a piece of broccoli to her mouth. It’s delicious, falling apart under her teeth, soft and fried perfectly. Roman chuckles beside her.

“Does it taste good?” he asks in a somewhat dreamy voice.

Logan clears her throat, her face pink. “Ah, yes. Apologies, was I..?”

“Wide eyed and shining like a star with joy? Yes, Logan, you were.”

Logan looks away and back to her food. “I just- I don’t quite know what to do. This is just the vegetables?”

“Well, yeah!” Roman nods to the chef, who is scooping piles of the long noodles onto the plates with the other heap of food. “It’s only the second course too, he hasn’t even started the rice.”

Logan breathes out slowly. She begins eating again, trying to make her way through at least enough to give the poor chef room when he finishes the sizzling pile of rice he’s tossing around. The noodles are one of the best pieces of food she has had in her entire life, she can’t imagine how good rice and meat will be. He’s cooking her dish first, chopping shrimp into pieces and mixing them into half the pile of rice. He douses it in more oil, and sauce, making the grill sizzle loudly. Logan watches him stirring it around with an amazed face, and Roman can only seem to look at her face. He’s never seen her make such big expressions before, and she’s very pretty when she is showing emotion, in his opinion.

Logan has only eaten about one third of the noodles and half of the vegetables when the rice is dumped onto her plate. She tastes it, and accidentally lets out an innocent moan at how good it tastes. Roman covers his mouth to mask a huge, loving grin. Though they’re queerplatonic, sometimes Roman’s aesthetic and alterous attraction overlap in a way that makes him understand what being romantically in love with her would feel like. He tries to focus on his food, but she’s just… radiant.

Logan catches him staring, glancing over to him. “Are you alright, Roman?”

“Hm? Oh- Yes, quite! You’re just such a distraction, Lo.”

Logan lets a short, nervous laugh out, smiling like a cartoon character that was just kissed. “Roman, please settle down.” She pushes up her glasses on her nose.

“I do mean it though,” he sighs. “I wasn’t lying when I said you could be mistaken for royalty. Whether night or day, you’re the heavens at play,” he says, touching his chest and raising an arm like a prince delivering a sonnet.

“Hm, is the couplet an attempt to woo me?”

“But of course,” he winks. A waiter clears their throat, and Roman politely moves his plate to the side so his steak dish can be set down. He pokes at it with his fork, then turns to Logan. “Want to try it?” Logan nods, and begins reaching over with her own fork. Roman shakes his head, raising his up with a bite of meat on it. “Lean over here, pretty.”

Logan’s face goes pink, and she rolls her eyes, but she leans over and lets him place a bite in her mouth tenderly. His gloves stroke her chin softly as he pulls away. She pulls back, setting a fist against her mouth as she chews. “It’s very good.”

“I know, right? This place’s food is just divine.”

Logan takes in Roman’s lovesick face, his slightly crooked grin and glimmering green eyes, filled with emotion that is all caused by her. She breaks eye contact, looking back to her food, trying to contain a dorky smile as she digs through the feast she’s been gifted.

--

Roman insisted on her letting the driver take her four to-go boxes worth of food as they got back in the car. They sit on the same side this time, Logan leaning slightly into the crook of Roman’s neck. Despite being taller, she has realized she enjoys feeling cradled, especially after so much stimulation. Roman had set his suit jacket around her shoulders, and she holds it tight around herself, dazed and dizzy with emotion. She’s mostly lost talking ability after such a big event, but Roman simply lets her rest in silence, rubbing his hand over her hair. It’s the first time he’s ever seen her hair down, and he can see that it’s slightly curly, falling in black waves just over her shoulders.

Logan lets out a tired sigh, watching street lights pass by. They’ve come back to the school after dark for her to retrieve her car, though driving might be an issue, she realizes faintly. But, to her surprise, Roman also exits the limo, handing a few more bills to the driver as he goes.

“What?” she asks simply.

“I’m going to drive you to your place. I know you have a sofa I can stay on, just for tonight. We can get to class together,” he steps towards her, tucking her cowlick behind her ear again. “You can make sure I actually get there on time for once.”

Logan hesitates, only for a moment, but concedes with a nod, swaying slightly on her feet. Roman drives them, and helps her get up the stairs to her part of the housing unit. The welcoming arms of her dark bedroom feels like being cradled too, and Logan barely even takes off her tie properly before laying down. She sees Roman’s shadow about to leave, and calls to him. “Roman, wait- Can you- could you sleep here? With me?”

Roman’s figure pauses in the doorway, and she can’t see the massive smile cross his face as he melts. He comes back over to her bed, and lays down across from her, squished together on a twin bed. He tries to give her space still, but their faces are there together, looking at each other’s shadowy forms.

“I think I like you. A lot.” Roman confesses it quietly. Logan hums, and crosses the gap, resting her head on his chest.

“You’re pretty nice as well,” she mutters softly.

They drift to sleep with full stomachs, and full hearts as well for that matter.

#college au #sanders sides #logince #dukeceit #logan sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #tss au #sanders sides au #sanders sides fic #tss fic #tss fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction

[lifewithoutrainydays]

the fic with the context-free spoilers of: a SNOOP DOGG. a BOBBLEHEAD. a FANCY CODPIECE. a DISTRESSED PATTON screaming "YOU KILLED HIM". a LAKESIDE DRIVE

content warnings for death and the personal horror of discovering who you really are as a person

#tss fic

[clumsyclifford]

It’s not even about the sexuality crisis anymore, honestly; he just doesn’t think Alex deserves the satisfaction of knowing he can successfully induce a sexuality crisis in Brian. It’s kind of unfair that Alex has that much power, and that he’s aware of it. If he’s going to be parading around seducing band guys on Warped Tour, he should at least have the decency to pick the ones who are already into guys.

#alex gaskarth #brian logan dales #bralex #bralex fic #all time low #atl #atl fic #the summer set #tss #tss fic #i hate myself i hate myself i hate myself #i mean i make myself laugh hysterically but holy shit lmao #stuff #fic #my fic #i can't possibly comment on this #actually i can. and i will #well i won't except to say that megs is the reason i'm posting this #i mean meghna inspired me to write it whether she meant to or not #but i would not have posted this completely batshit insanity if megs had not inspired me #by posting something arguably more batshit insane #she's cool like that #and now i'm going to travel 45 minutes by subway to see a little free concert for an artist i fell in love with today #even though ive followed him on instagram for months #life is crazy #the end goodbye again

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Words: 3,082 Warnings: Night Brain™ (Self-Depreciating Thoughts), Insomnia Characters: Virgil, Janus Ships: Anxceit, but it's ambiguous Genre: Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Self-Care Snek Janus, there was only one bed! actually not the trope but that is still true, placed in like probably a mid-point of enemies to lovers

   Virgil rolled over and glanced at the digital display of the clock, sick of staring at the ceiling. 2:42 am lit up the room in a daunting red glow in a painful affront to all of his efforts to sleep tonight. He ate dinner on time. He turned down all the lights with the sun. He tried to meditate (with questionable success; he wondered when the last time he cleaned the carpet was and if he had bills due more than he was mindful of the moment) and went to bed early in a dark, cool room. Virgil did everything right, and he was still here, having a staring contest with his alarm clock.

   It was basically inevitable, and all the effort was meaningless. If it was that easy, then why hadn’t it ever worked before? Adding or changing some steps to the ritual wouldn’t change a lifetime of being eaten alive slowly by insomnia. Everything was futile, and Virgil just needed to accept that things were always out of his control and that no good ever comes his way. More cruel proof that all his efforts were always in vain, and he’d never achieve the few precious hopes and dreams that Virgil quietly kept for himself. Like the fervent wish that Janus’s caring advice would finally let him steal some sleep from the sandman that betrayed every night. The equivalence of sheer force of will and the prayers of a friend somehow changing a mountain into the sea. A stupid thought on every level.

   Fuck. Virgil rubbed his face bitterly, clenching up all his muscles in frustration. Night brain was getting to him. There were good things in the world, even if Virgil couldn’t see them in the dim light of the alarm clock. His dreams aren’t dead because 10 pm bedtimes just aren’t on the table for him right now. He still needed to figure out the insomnia problem, though. No matter how hard he researched solutions, he remained lost on how to make them work for him. He just had to wade through the muck of his horrible, bogged down brain to figure out what he needed to do.

   He might have to cancel tomorrow's plans, as much as he hated to do that to Janus. With how intensely their relationship fluctuated, setting them back further by flaking on him felt like shooting himself in both feet. But if he was in someone else’s position, he’d like the heads-up if someone may change the plans or cancel. Virgil twisted to sit up on the edge of his bed and reached for his phone, tapping it out of airplane mode and tugging it off the charger to warn him before he forgot. He texted Janus to let him know he would stay an exhausted mess tomorrow, and that Janus was nice to try, even if it didn’t work. As much as he’d love to just call him a name and throw his phone against the wall, that wasn’t fucking working for him, and he needed to be nicer like Janus was trying to.

   Even if the ideas didn’t work and the ever-encroaching devil’s hour was pissing him off, he honestly appreciated Janus’s suggestions. Virgil was used to being told that he wasn’t trying hard enough, or that he should just solve it with coffee like everyone else. At least it wasn’t a lack of effort on Virgil’s part, if even all of Janus’s suggestions didn’t help him sleep. There was some odd comfort in that. He genuinely would have loved to get back to Janus with the proud beam of someone who got eight hours of sleep. Well, if he figured something else out, maybe he could still fall asleep before 4 am and keep hanging on by a thread like he often is.

   Virgil started up the streaming video app to pick something low-key and boring enough to kill his last few awake brain cells. Even if it didn’t get him to sleep, it would be nice just to distract the damn night brain for a little while before he ends up on that ‘failure’ tangent again over the insomnia… or even just something to focus on since his tired brain kept wandering down haunted paths. But before Virgil could pick a video to drown out his thoughts, he received a text alert. Janus responded to the warning Virgil sent, even though Janus should have been asleep right now and not answering. Virgil glanced at the clock again, the unholy hour leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

   ‘Who cares?’ was the text he received from Janus. Virgil frowned and pursed his lips at that response. Didn’t Janus care when he suggested all that stuff to try? Or was this all some very elaborate and confusing prank? Was it a joke? He was too tired to figure this out. He thought it was an earnest attempt to help. Maybe it was just more lines and lies, though. It was hard to tell with Janus.

   ‘You cared yesterday,’ Virgil texted back. Janus was the one who basically demanded he go to bed early when Virgil mentioned how little sleep he’d been getting. Janus even brought up the subject by pointing out how tired Virgil looked in an insult. It’s not like Virgil was just dropping hints at the guy in hopes of help. It was Janus who sent him a list of things to try unprompted.

   ‘I have every right not to care as the person you woke up at nearly three in the morning,’ Janus responded to the text. Virgil bristled as read the words on the darkened screen, his brain conjuring up the harsh, catty tone that Janus used to talk shit about someone. Damnit, he didn’t mean to wake up Janus. He was just giving Janus a heads-up as he remembered to do so. He didn’t think he would have remembered later because of the original issue. Insomnia. How fucking cyclical.

   ‘It’s your fault for not using sleep mode, stupid,’ Virgil sent back defensively, but he knew he should have just texted later or not brought it up at all. He should have just hid the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping. Then Janus would still be asleep and Virgil wouldn’t be panicking in the middle of the night about messing up his relationship with Janus, which was often tenuous at best. Virgil had been trying, but considering that was also a word that Janus used to describe Virgil, it probably wasn’t doing that well. He would ruin this relationship like he did with all the others. Oh, goddamnit, there goes night brain again.

   ‘I would have been fine if you fell asleep on time and hadn’t texted me at 2:44 am,’ Janus texted, and Virgil’s brain just was making Janus sound angrier. It didn’t help that it echoed the sentiment that night brain was touting as a personal failure. Virgil pouted and flopped back on the bed, holding the phone above his head to text back. Janus wasn’t wrong, and Virgil kind of threw Janus’s consideration back in his face by failing to fall asleep and messaging him about it. Ugh. Night brain aside, he really didn’t need to bother Janus with this. He’s dealt with it alone almost his whole life.

   ‘Sorry,’ Virgil apologized sheepishly and rubbed his face. He knew he could catastrophize about relationships. He knew the later it got, the more harsh his brain could be, too. It didn’t make Virgil feel any better about any of that interaction. It all seemed so bad, and he just needed to learn to keep his mouth shut, but he didn’t know how. He was so fucking tired all the time. Being tired makes you struggle with judgment and sense. Ergo, Virgil was always stupid. Maybe even Janus was stupid by extension for willingly spending time with the chronically sleepless Virgil, who even knew anymore. He only knew he needed to stop bothering Janus and try to sleep. The glowing clock’s non-stop march forward told him this wasn’t the time and reminded him he should just have been asleep to avoid all this shit.

   Janus hadn’t responded to his apology, so Virgil switched back to the video app. He would try to make it up to Janus tomorrow somehow. Maybe he could get them both espresso or something like that. There really wasn’t any way to solve sleep deprivation, though, and he owed Janus more than he could physically even pay. Virgil knew how deep that debt could eat at your heart and soul more than anyone else. Janus didn’t have to forgive him, but Virgil still had to at least try to be better about not waking up friends in the middle of the night, even if it was an accident. Next time, he can just write himself a sticky note. It would be a good habit to build just to cope with the brain fog of chronic insomnia.

   Virgil found some videos reviewing bad books, and those were relatively interesting without getting invested enough in the content to turn on his brain, so he watched a few reviews. It didn’t seem to be to any avail, though, other than mildly quieting the night brain from going on mean tangents. He did wonder how the hell said books ever got published and felt bad for the readers, but considering the contents of the books, that was probably a normal reaction and not a late-night horror fun house ringing throughout his skull. Virgil checked the clock on his phone screen compulsively, and the time made him grimace. He wasn’t any more drowsy than he was before, so that failed. The human capacity to be exhausted without being sleepy is offensive to think about. Time to drown out his brain in random content again, then.

   He scanned for a different genre of videos that he could doze to with half-open eyes, but only ended up jumping at a loud thudding, the knock at his front door carried through his apartment causing a phone to land on his face in surprise. Virgil scrambled to grab the phone he dropped, looking around his room for something to defend himself with. No matter where his eyes jumped, he found nothing he could use to even bludgeon anyone with. Not that it would help against something like a gun. Maybe he was just going to die tonight.

   The tiny ounce of sense that Virgil could have called his own was smothered to death by the haze of fear overtaking his brain as his breath came in sharply. ‘If I don’t show up tomorrow, I’ve been axe murdered by a late-night visitor. Tell your snake I love her,’ he messaged off his epitaph to Janus, sitting up on the bed.

   He wasn’t sure if he should ignore it or see who it was. What if it was an emergency? What if someone needed help? What if it was the police? Should he even open it, then? Would it be worse if he pretended he wasn’t home? Would someone try to rob him if they thought his apartment was empty? What if it was someone out to hurt him? What if it was a trap? Were they going to be mad at how long it’s taking Virgil to answer? Maybe if he doesn’t answer it, he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life. What if they break in, anyway? What if—

   ‘Open the door,’ Janus texted him, shaking Virgil from freaking out about the sudden visitor’s intentions. What? Was Janus joking, or trying to get him offed?

   ‘Are you trying to get me serial-killed for waking you up?’ Virgil replied, and he intended it as a joke, but it was also the exact thing he was terrified of occurring. Nothing good happens this late at night. There was no way that the statistics for opening a door this late at night favoured him for survival.

   ‘It’s cold out here. Open the damn door,’ Janus sent another text, and Virgil jumped up from the bed right away and rushed to the front door, absolutely blindsided by the implications. Even the chance, even the tiny possibility. If it was Janus, he would open the door. That shook all his fears about the situation from the etch-a-sketch of his brain into harmlessly scattered grains of concern, leaving him breathless and bewildered.

   Virgil flung open the door, and there was Janus in all of his pyjama-clad glory, looking fatigued, chilly, and perturbed. Janus pushed Virgil aside and stepped in, and Virgil locked up behind him in pure confusion, though he felt himself grinning like an idiot despite himself. Janus was here! Did Virgil fall asleep after all, and he was currently in a rare pleasant dream? Janus’s nightwear was certainly the stuff of dreams, it was hard to believe he even owned such classy sleepwear.

   “What are you doing here?” Virgil asked quietly (as if to not startle himself awake, or perhaps because Janus looked half-asleep himself. He couldn’t speak for his own motivations, he could barely even speak) while Janus yawned, covering his mouth as his jaw unhinged. A little tear beaded on Janus’s eye that he blinked away, looking at Virgil directly with an intense expression as soon as he closed his mouth.

   Janus didn’t reply and simply grabbed Virgil’s hand to drag him back into the bedroom. Virgil could only follow along with (dream?) Janus’s whims, feeling dumbfounded as Janus pulled Virgil along. Then Janus unceremoniously shoved him into the bed, Virgil’s knees buckling at the edge and catching himself on his hands to continue to stare up at Janus in shock. Janus only raised an eyebrow, leaning his weight on one foot as he glowered at Virgil’s lost face.

   “Get in,” Janus demanded, flipping his hand at Virgil to shoo him into the bedsheets. Virgil furrowed his eyebrows, but crawled in and sandwiched himself between the blankets, anyway. He didn’t know what Janus was getting at, but it was better to just listen than deal with Janus’s tired wrath. Janus kicked off his shoes and climbed in bed next to him with another small yawn, tugging Virgil in and holding him to his chest under the covers. Virgil’s face heated as Janus forcefully nestled Virgil closely against himself and shifted to get comfortable in Virgil’s bed.

   “What—” Virgil tried to start, his voice muffled against Janus’s firm chest.

   “Sh. Just lie still and breathe deeply, and I will get you to sleep whether you like it or not,” Janus explained flatly, holding Virgil close and squeezing with mild pressure, the soft interaction melting away Virgil’s concerns in favour of focusing on the feel of Janus’s slender fingers without the gloves against his skin. Virgil wasn’t surprised his hands were cold. There was something soothing about that, even. It was almost as if the gentle chill of Janus’s hands quenched the leftover dread that burned through his mind unbidden and gave him space to breathe.

   Virgil took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes. Janus warmed up from the night's chill beneath the sheets and Virgil’s remnant adrenal heat, making this moment more comfortable than Virgil could have dreamed. Virgil hadn’t shared his bed in a long time, and he thought he didn’t miss it, but it seemed at least a small, traitorous part of him clearly still did from the unwelcome relief that slowly filled his body. He doesn't like how much Janus just being here changed how he felt, even though it satisfied him beyond words. The warmth between them, the soft covers, the considerate cuddle, and Janus’s gentle heart beat and steady rise and fall of his chest all coaxed him down as he breathed slowly and stayed still as asked. Virgil’s thoughts had trouble wandering with Janus right there. His brain was too busy fluctuating on Janus’s very existence, as well as the fact that he showed up out of nowhere to snuggle Virgil to sleep. He had to be already dreaming, right?

   Janus rolled over and rearranged Virgil into being the little spoon, arms wrapping around Virgil and sliding his head onto Virgil’s shoulder. A few soft, warm breaths sent dancing across Virgil’s skin before Janus dropped his head to the pillows behind Virgil, Janus's breath now lightly jostling the hairs of Virgil’s bed head. Janus reached around to have Virgil hold on to a spare pillow and tucked him properly into the covers before snuggling tight, the even spread of pressure across Virgil’s back reminding him that Janus was here even though Virgil could no longer see him. Virgil couldn’t believe this moment was real, and he didn’t want to stop to consider it and ruin the moment. He wanted to be here in Janus’s arms, not even letting the fear of waking stay in his forethought for long.

   The moments of soft breathing calmed the last of the fear in Virgil’s heart, loosening the knot in his stomach and the tightness in his throat. Virgil felt relaxation wash over him in places he didn’t know could even loosen, unwinding him down to the core. Janus’s arms slackened slightly, and Virgil could feel him slip off to sleep behind him, dragging Virgil down farther along with him. The dreamlike quality of the moment grew, the lines of reality becoming blurry, and the light of the alarm clock faded into an unreadable glow instead of a harsh reminder of the waking reality.

   The request was so simple it was offensive that it worked, but the mantra and the soft embrace warded off all thoughts. Just breathe deep and lie still. That’s all he had to do. Janus was here. He’d know if Virgil gave up, so he had to keep going. And he wasn’t alone. He didn’t screw up with Janus, and he was safe. It didn’t matter if it was a dream or not, because both options were so wonderful, he would stay in either forever.

   Time unwound and lost all meaning together in the soft sheets. He didn’t count the breaths. The clock’s horrible march forward, lost to the details, quickly blurring out. There was only Janus’s breath and his, entwining together in the dark room. The last dregs of Virgil’s waking mind faded to nothing, and there was nothing but warmth in the last moments of Virgil’s awareness as he drifted off to sleep.

#tsss #tss #sanders sides #tss fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #tsss fanfic #tss fic #SaSi fic #SaSi #ayri writes #anxceit #ts anxceit #anxceit brainrot #ts virgil #ts janus #ts anxiety #ts deceit #sideshipping #cw self-dep #cw insomnia #bonus meme on AO3

[nullominous-q]

Die For Me - Ch 5: Such a (violent) child

My friend, are you still a friend?

"Remus!” The boy flinched when a pebble hit him in the shoulder and he turned to glare at who had thrown it. He rolled his eyes when he saw a head of red hair and brown eyes peering through an open window. Remus turned back to try and get the sole of the shoe he was working on aligned so he could secure it with minimal adjustments necessary, “Go away Nina.” He’d tried to sound intimidating but that was awfully difficult for a ten year old to achieve and Nina clearly wasn’t deterred as she knocked lightly on the back door to the cobbler’s workshop. “C’mon lemme in, Re-bee!” Remus dropped his tools, he hated that nickname. He fully turned to look Nina in the eyes, “Go away, Neatie Nina.” Although he couldn’t see the bottom half of her face, he knew she was scowling at him from the street. “What’s stuck up your butt today?” “Poop, duh,” Remus answered as he stuck out his tongue at her.

#sanders sides #tss #tss fic #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #theo writes

[endy-the-anxious]

Jesus, you look shitty

Summary: Virgil goes to visit Remus again after years of not seeing him. Things.. don't really go well.

Word count: 2293

Characters: Remus, Virgil, Patton, Janus (mentioned)

Notes: This is inspired by the episode 'The Telescope' from Bojack Horseman.

Tagging: @lost-in-thought-20 @chituri

----------

Virgil sighed as he stood in front of the door that led to the dark side of the mind scape. He hadn’t been back here in so long. Ever since he left the dark sides, and Janus had followed him soon after, they’d both worked to keep the parts separate. It needed to be like that, for Thomas’ sake. Janus had told him that he’d tried to convince Remus to be less disturbing so he could join the light sides too, and that Remus had asked him to stay instead, but because they couldn’t reach an agreement, Janus left too.

Since then, Remus hadn’t shown himself, and while part of Virgil was glad that Thomas was now safe from his intrusive thoughts, another part of him was plagued with guilt for having abandoned his childhood friend. That guilt kept building up over time, and now, years later, he figured it was time to apologize for everything that had happened between them. If he could just make amends, maybe things would get better, and he wouldn’t have to deal with guilt all the time.

He didn’t want to go alone, though. He hadn’t seen Remus in so long. It would at least be extremely awkward, and he’d rather not be alone in a room with him. So, he’d brought Patton, who silently stood beside him, also looking rather nervous.

Virgil looked at him, and made eye contact for a moment, “..this is good, right? That we’re going to apologize?” he asked.

His friend nodded, “I mean, I think so, yeah. I learned that apologizing always makes things better,” he said, smiling a bit.

“..Right. Okay,” Virgil said as he gathered up some courage. He then raised his hand, and knocked on the door, and the pair waited for a response.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and there was Remus. Virgil remembered him always looking messy, but dear god, it had gotten so much worse. His hair was long and greasy.. When was the last time he’d washed it? His clothes were in a bad state too, all wrinkly and full of stains.

“..hey, Remus..” Virgil said, trying to keep his tone a bit nonchalant to mask his nervousness.

Surprisingly enough, a grin spread across Remus’ face, “Virgil! Jesus, you look shitty! Has life with the light sides not been as good as you’d hoped?” he joked.

From the corner of his eyes, the anxious side noticed Patton purse his lips together after hearing the comment, and he chuckled a little, unfortunately already feeling awkward, “Heh.. no, it’s been nice. You don’t look so good either, Rem,” he said, attempting to joke back.

And within a second after saying that, Remus’ smile disappeared, and his unblinking eyes met Virgil’s with a look so cold that he almost shivered.

“I’m dying.”

Virgil’s breath got stuck in his throat for a moment. Out of all the words Remus could’ve said, that was the last thing he expected.

“..oh,” he managed to bring out.

Remus stared at him a bit longer, before putting on a wide smile again, “Well, anyways. How nice of you two to visit after all these years! Come in! I’ll make you both something nice,” he said as he clapped his hands together. He gestured at Virgil and Patton to follow him, and then turned around and walked into his living space.

Virgil took a few seconds to calm down from his shock of seeing Remus act so strange. Stranger than usual, that is. He glanced at Patton, “..please don’t leave me alone with him,” he said quietly, and felt a little bit reassured when his friend nodded. They walked in together.

The inside of the place was even worse. It reeked with the smell of something dead. Maybe it was the plants in the room that looked like they hadn’t been watered in years, or maybe Remus actually had some dead animals hidden around here. Virgil repressed the urge to cover his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I was just about to make myself some food, so you can join if you want!” Remus’ voice echoed from the kitchen, “Just sit down at the table and I'll be there in a sec!”

The two light sides exchanged silent glances, and despite the fact that they both wanted to leave, they knew they couldn’t do that yet. Virgil had come here to apologize, and Patton had come with him for extra support. They couldn’t just leave without doing that. Especially not since Remus seemed quite happy to see them here. So, they sat down at the table.

A few minutes later, Remus came back with some bread and meat on plates, which he put down in front of them, “Bone apple teeth!” he said with a grin.

Patton looked at the food. It.. didn’t look appetizing at all, and.. was that mold? He felt like throwing up, and quickly decided to think of something else to forget about it. “..what a coincidence. We ate something like this yesterday-..” he said with a small smile.

“Well duh,” Remus chuckled, “I get all the scraps of food you throw away! Don’t worry. You’ll get used to the mold after a while.” he said as he sat down at the table too, opposite to the light sides.

Virgil stared at the food Remus had served him, and just like Patton, he was appalled by even the idea of eating it. He looked up and saw the intrusive side had already started eating, using his hands to shove the food in his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten for days. It actually made him feel nauseous, and he quickly covered his mouth with his hand, to hopefully keep himself from throwing up.

Noticing the movement, Remus looked up, and made eye contact with Virgil, “..what’s wrong, Virge?” he asked with his mouth full, “Do you need better cutlery?”

Confused by the question, the anxious side glanced at Patton for a second, “...uhh.. what..?” he asked.

“Because if you do-..” Remus continued, “I can always give you the knife you left in my back years ago!” he added, before laughing.

Virgil, not sure what else to do, awkwardly laughed along, “Heh.. r- right… walked right into that one. Who asks about cutlery..?” he mumbled.

It was silent for a moment, with the only sound being Remus’ eating. The tension was horrible, and neither light side knew what to do in this situation. They could’ve handled an angry Remus, perhaps. But this was very different from what they expected, and the last thing they wanted to do was make things worse.

Luckily, dinner was over rather quickly, and Remus stood up to collect the plates and bring them back to the kitchen, where he left them in the sink before joining the other sides again, who hadn’t moved from their seats at the table.

Breaking the tense silence, Remus clapped his hands, “Well! It was certainly nice to have you two over, but I'm sure you’d like to go back to your own place now. I won’t keep you here any longer.” he said, before turning around and walking to the door again, gesturing at Virgil and Patton to follow him.

Remus brought the light sides to the door and grinned as he opened it for them, “Again, nice seeing ya! I need to get some rest. Close the door behind you!” he said, before simply walking off and letting his visitors stand by the door, perplexed.

Virgil and Patton exchanged concerned looks, before the former spoke up, “..I don’t feel good just leaving him here..” he admitted.

The moral side nodded and agreed, “Me neither.. I had no idea it was this bad for him. The awful food, and.. he’s dying too..? I didn’t know we sides could even die-” he admitted.

Fidgeting with the zipper on the sleeve of his hoodie, Virgil thought about what to do, “..maybe I should go back in, alone.” he said. When Patton grabbed his hand and asked if he was sure, he nodded, “..I mean, I was the first one to leave him.. and I never came back or apologized. I need to do that. If he dies before I get the chance to-..” he cut himself off and looked down, “..I could never forgive myself..”

Patton squeezed his hand, “I understand.. but be safe, okay?” he said softly, though Virgil’s nod and reply didn’t exactly reassure him.

Putting on a brave face and walking back in alone was harder for Virgil than he thought it would be. But, he told himself, he was doing this for Remus. Inside, he made his way to Remus’ room, and knocked on the door before walking in, where he saw him sitting on his bed, leaning against the headrest with his eyes closed.

He seemed to not notice Virgil at first, which concerned him. You’d think one would hear the sound of someone entering their room, but apparently that wasn’t the case with Remus now.

Virgil stayed silent for a moment, looking at Remus. He coughed a little every once in a while, and.. some black smoke-like substance seemed to ooze right out of his skin with every cough, as if life was being sucked right out of him, slowly, and painfully.

The sight made Virgil’s blood run cold, as he realized that when Remus told him he was dying, he wasn’t exaggerating. He cleared his throat to get the other’s attention, and before he could even say anything, Remus’ eyes shot open, and he stared at Virgil with that same cold look he’d had before.

“Come to ruin my life some more, asshole?” he asked, any trace of niceness in his voice gone.

“I-.. no-” Virgil said, stumbling a little because he was once again caught off guard by Remus’ sudden change in demeanor. He fumbled with his hoodie strings for a second, trying to calm his nerves down before talking again. “Listen, I-... about what happened after I left-.. after Janus left-..” he started, “We.. we never meant for things to turn out this way..”

“So.. you’re apologizing?”

The anxious side nodded quickly, “Yes. I’m sorry, Remus..” he said, before smiling a little bit, Maybe, just maybe, they could be friends again, for a little while. Maybe.. he could save his old friend from death. But, Remus’ next words pulled him right out of his thoughts.

“Fuck off.”

Baffled, Virgil looked at him and stepped closer to try and reason with him, “Remus-.. I-.. I don’t think you understand me right now. I’m sorry.. you said you were dying and.. I can see it, and I’m so sorry. If you die, and I can’t at least make things better between us-.. I-”

Remus leaned forward a little and coughed again, “I said, Fuck. Off.” he repeated, keeping his voice low and threatening. “I’m not gonna forgive you just so you can feel better about your shitty self.” He reached out and grabbed Virgil by his collar, pulling him down to his eye level, “I want you to live. I want you to live knowing that there’s nothing you can do to make this better. I want you to live, knowing that you killed me.”

Virgil tried to pull away instinctively, but Remus was surprisingly strong for a dying person. “I-.. I-..” he said, terrified of what Remus might do to him now that they were alone. Was he going to take him down with him? After a few seconds, he registered what Remus had actually said, and he frowned, “M- me..? I- I’m not killing you!” he tried to defend himself “I- I just want to help!”

“Bullshit!” Remus shouted, which immediately resulted in him having a big of a coughing fit, causing him to let Virgil go. The intrusive side wheezed and gasped for air as his body secreted more black smoke. When he’d calmed down a bit, he looked up at Virgil and glared daggers at him. “I-.. I know it’s you. I can feel it. I helped you control your abilities, your room. Maybe you don’t realize it, but it’s you.” he said.

Having stepped back after Remus let him go, Virgil looked at Remus, “..so-.. if it’s me.. can’t I stop whatever i’m doing? Can’t I save you?” he asked quietly.

Remus leaned back and crossed his arms, “I don’t want to be saved. I don’t need you, or anyone else anymore, and I haven’t needed you for a long time.” he said coldly.

“You could’ve joined us, you know..?” Virgil said quietly, “When I left. When Janus left. He told me he offered you to join the light sides too, but you refused. Why?” he asked.

“..I never needed to be a light side. I was fine just being me,” Remus answered, looking away for a moment, “What I needed, was my friends. But you left me so you could become a light side. You both dropped me and forgot about me. Did you ever even consider you could’ve been a light side and my friend?” he asked before making eye contact again, “You care more about being a light side, than you ever cared about me, and I learned that a long time ago.”

Virgil let his arms drop to his sides as he listened to Remus, and while he didn’t want to admit it, he knew he was right. If he’d cared more, he would’ve visited sooner. Or.. he shouldn’t have left in the first place. It had been a mistake coming here, hadn’t it?

“I’m sorry..” he mumbled, turning around and hearing Remus reply to him one last time.

“No. You’re not. And now get out.”

..And Virgil did.

#sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #tss fanfic #tss fic #tss remus angst #tss remus #tss patton #tss virgil #ts remus #ts virgil #ts patton #remus angst #remus angst fanfiction #my posts #endy-fic #endy-fanfic #sanders sides #i wrote half of this fic months ago and the rest today lol #i hope it makes sense

[creative-lampd-liberties]

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Light angst and hurt/comfort. Gratuitous Holiday fluff. Mentions of ducking out. Hugging. Mild gore and language typical of Remus. Brotherly Dukexiety and Creativitwins and Platonic Prinxiety.

Summary: A little clearing the air on what it means to be a brother, by circumstance or by choice.

For my giftee @anxiouslyfred I really hope you enjoy it 💜

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

#sanders sides gift exchange #tss fic #sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #platonic prinxiety #creativitwins #platonic dukexiety

[dillydallydove]

AND ITS DONE

hell yes.

#sanders sides #hlmch #lamp #platonic lamp #tss fic #I gave Logan a gun and a Patton took it away

[romansleftshoulderpad]

Welcome to the Life of Electra Heart

Track Four: Homewrecker

Ship: Creativisleep

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

If you like my writing, please consider leaving a comment! And maybe, buy me a Ko-Fi?

First Chapter / Last Chapter / Next Chapter

Tag List: @poettheythem @iclaimedtobethebetterbard @justablah56 If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please send an ask!

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Every boyfriend is the one

Until otherwise proven

It took some time for Roman to adjust to his new hair, but just as he grew to know the person in the mirror, he had forgotten the person in all his photographs. The bottle had not been one of goo that simply stained his hair and gave it the slightest shine but a potion that had completely transformed him into someone else. 

Someone who had a chance to be better. 

The good are never easy

That’s what Lilly told him, anyway. That’s what he wanted to believe. 

A bell chimed as he entered the small coffee shop and made his way straight to the counter, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited to be noticed. 

Though Lilly pretended not to see him, she was bad at playing pretend. Her lips were quirked up as she hit ‘start’ on some machine that seemed to scream in protest before she swung around, her high ponytail swishing back and forth in the air. 

“Hello, my dear and darling friend,” Roman said. 

“Hello, complete stranger.”

Roman frowned. “You’re terrible to me.”

Lilly laughed and rolled her eyes, turning back to her workspace where she resumed her role as the master of machines. She pulled metal things and levers faster than Roman could keep track and poured her magic potion into a cup. She topped it with foam and called out, “Cappuccino for Kirsten?” She put the cup on the counter and turned, her hands to the machines in front of her, and her eyes to Roman. “How’d you know I was working today?”

Roman flushed. “I- uh- didn’t. Actually.”

She raised an eyebrow and hit something against a counter with a loud ‘BANG!’

“I’m meeting someone here.”

“A ‘someone’ someone? Or just… someone?”

“Eeeeh?” He tilted his hand back and forth. “I would just call him someone but he definitely isn’t-“ he deepened his voice- “ someone.”

The bell rang above the door and Lilly’s eyes widened. She grabbed a towel and began wiping down the counter- but that wasn’t enough to hide the tension in her shoulders. 

“Oh.”

Roman turned around at the familiar sound of Virgil’s voice. Virgil whose hair was freshly dyed and whose aura was just as terrible as Lilly’s. Oh. 

Lilly’s eyes lowered and she glared as sharp as a blade. 

“Well… this is fun,” Roman said. “I forgot you two knew each other.”

“I wasn’t aware you two had met,” Virgil said awkwardly, trying his best to sound polite. 

Lilly, on the other hand, wasted no chance to be hostile and announced, “I have been Roman’s best friend for five years.”

Please God let me die, Roman prayed. “Well, this reunion has been fun-“

A woman passing by loudly cleared her throat and Lilly sheepishly let go of her glare. “What can I get started for you gentlemen?”

“I’ll have-” Roman started.

Lilly glanced over her shoulder and then leaned in close, almost touching noses with Virgil, as she seethed, “You are going to order and then you’re going to tip at least fifty percent or else I will: Hunt. You. Into. The. Ground. Understood?”

“Small-black-coffee,-please,” Virgil said in a single breath. “With cream?”

“How dark?” she asked, back into her business-as-usual self in the blink of an eye. 

“Uh, you after a day at the beach.” 

She wrote something down on a slip of paper next to her cash register. “One ninety-seven.”

Virgil handed over his credit card and shoved a wad of cash into the tip jar. As soon as the transaction was over, he zoomed over to the Pick-Up counter. 

“Should I ask?”

“Depends,” Lilly said. “Would you like your testicles to remain attached to your body?”

Roman shuddered. “Do you hang out with Remus in your free time?”

“As if,” she said with a less than subtle eye roll, and a half-ass, “No offense.”

“Just ring up the usual.”

The keys clicked like music as she typed his order up. He handed her the exact amount of cash and put a dollar into the jar. He joined Virgil in the Waiting Game. 

“Why here? ” Virgil whined.

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You seem scared.” 

“Scared?” he asked. “I tipped five dollars on a two-dollar drink! Of course, I’m scared.”

“What happened between you two?”

Virgil sighed. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. Though black pants seemed impractical for August, at least he didn’t also have his massive jacket. And the plain white tee looked pretty good on him. (Maybe too good.)

Lilly placed a paper cup on the counter between them. “One Hot Girl Summer for-” She looked at the name on the cup. 

Virgil looked like he might faint. 

She gave a shit-eating grin and announced, “Wiggle?”

For some reason, he gave a sigh of relief.

But Lilly paid no mind to his apparent enjoyment of her terrible nickname. She just picked up a blender that had a cacophony of ingredients and poured in- 

“Lilly, that is an insane amount of ice.” 

She popped on the lid and put it in the machine. She pressed the button that made it loud and leaned close over the counter to be heard. “Do you want a frappe or do you want some liquidy bullshit, Roman? Because less ice would be some liquidy bullshit.”

“Literally none of the other baristas have ever used that much ice.”

“None of the other baristas are your favorite barista.”

Roman twisted his mouth in thought. “I don’t know. If I liked girls, Beth would be about my type.”

“Self-absorbed assholes?” Virgil asked. 

Roman regretted ordering a frappe. He’d need something hot now that his heart was frozen over. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Lilly butted in. (Roman wished she hadn’t. Virgil should be sorry.) “He needs to hear it.” She handed over his frappe with a mountain of whipped cream and a chocolate frowny face in place of the usual cross-hatched drizzle. “You need to get laid.”

Well, at least he no longer felt icey. Though, now, the ice seemed to be preferable. 

“Aww, it’s cute when you’re flustered,” she cooed.

“I’m going to kill you one of these days.”

 “What does putting a dick in his ass accomplish?”

“Virgil!” 

“Sorry, sorry. What does putting his dick in someone’s ass accomplish?”

“I think I like you two better when you’re trying to kill each other,” Roman said. 

Lilly loudly cleared her throat. “At best , Janus will see you being happy without him and even feel jealous over what he lost. At worst, hey, you get a distraction.” 

Roman’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the name on the screen. His heart skipped a beat, but his racing mind made up for it. Foolishly, he didn’t hate Lilly’s idea. 

The easy never good. 

And love, it never happens like you think it really should. 

“Hey, meet me at my place tonight?”

Deception and Perfection are wonderful traits. 

One will breed love. 

The other, Hate.

He almost ducked out. He almost got enough sense to text Remy and cancel, go back home, and sleep through the next week. He was almost stupid enough to take a shot. 

Middle grounds are a dangerous place to land. 

“Woah.”

Roman’s head snapped up. 

Remy’s sunglasses were off, tucked into the collar of his shirt. His eyes ran over Roman and he smiled. “Someone is looking vibrant.”

Roman reached up at his hair nervously. “Uh, yeah. It was time for a change.”

“No kidding.” Remy grabbed a seat and spun it around backwards, his chin resting on the back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tank top before.”

Roman’s face warmed and he rubbed his hands over his pale arms. Is it cold in here? 

“It’s cute.”

Never mind, it is very very hot!

“Speak for yourself, hot stuff,” Roman said. 

Remy laughed and took Roman’s hand. “It’s okay, you can compliment me without cringing.”

“Can I?” 

“Of course you can,” he said softly. “You know, it’s not just the makeover. There’s been something different about you, lately?”

His stomach turned. “…is there?”

Remy smiled. “I like it.”

“I, uh, well.” Just spit it out, dumbass. “My friend is having a party. Tonight. Did you want to…”

“Are you seriously nervous about this?” Remy teased. “Roman, in the time you’ve known me, when have I ever turned down a party?”

“But… don’t you usually go alone?” 

“Roman,” he said, squeezing his hand, “when have I ever said no to you?”

In another reality, Roman would have blurted, “Do you want to make out with me so I can forget about my shitty ex that I can’t get out of my head?” And Remy would have laughed at him. And maybe, for the first time, Remy would have said no to him. But in this reality, Roman said nothing. 

Maybe nothing was worse. 

You’ll find me in the lonely hearts

Under “I’m after a brand new start.”

Remus was standing in the doorway, doing nothing helpful and being an absolute menace. “Dude, I haven’t seen you this worried about your appearance since-“ He slammed his fist into the side of the door, causing everything near it to shake and several sketchbooks to fall off the shelf next to it. “No! Do not tell me Janus is going to be at this party.”

Roman felt a snake wiggling around in his stomach, making his way up his throat and tightening around his lungs. He squeezed his fists, angry not at the mention of Janus, but at himself for getting so worked up over a name . He took a few deep breaths and said, “ No, he will not be there.” Roman’s eyes were trained on the polished wood dresser in front of him. He couldn’t look Remus in the eyes. He couldn’t even look at his own reflection out of shame. One face, too much disappointment. 

“Good,” Remus said. “Because I’m fully prepared to grab his dick and shove it up his own ass.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s someone’s sexual fantasy.”

“Yeah, but it’s also one hell of a way to say ‘go fuck yourself.’

“You’re disgusting,” Roman said. “...but that is pretty funny.”

Remus smiled. “There’s the brother I know and tolerate.”

Roman’s eyes were getting dizzy from so much rolling.

“But don’t think I’ve forgiven you for stealing my title as the Dyed Twin.”

Roman stuck his tongue out at him. “Have fun being the boring bitch of the group.”

Roman’s phone buzzed on the table as an alarm went off. He hit the stop button and took a deep breath. He didn’t bother checking his makeup. If the glitter over his eyes ended up on his cheeks, then he could call it “camp” and move on with his life. He tucked his phone and his wallet into the pockets of his jeans and untucked his black t-shirt for the million-and-first time that evening. Remus tossed his car keys into the air and caught them with a loud jingle. 

Roman’s watch vibrated and he glanced down at the text. “It’s go time. Remy just left.”

Remus stuffed his keys into his pocket and made his way down the stairs with Roman following suit. “Remind me why your guest is meeting you there?

“Same reason I’m going with you. He doesn’t want to leave his car there.”

“And...?”

“He’s, uh, catching a ride with Emile.”

Remus glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know Em knew Lilly.”

“Me neither,” Roman said, trying to ignore the twist in his gut. “Small world, huh?”

“Too small.”

They opened the front door, the sunlight blinding them. Lilly already had a plan for Emile. Roman just didn’t want to think about what that plan was. He didn’t want to think at all. 

The car ride seemed impossibly long, yet not long enough for Roman to control his racing mind. There were already two cars in the driveway when they arrived, parked on the side of the curb. 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Remus asked.

Roman answered with the click of his seatbelt before he opened the door and stepped out of the car, into the humid air. Lilly’s house was a bit smaller than his, but her family made up for it with a colorful front garden and a spacious backyard. He stepped on the cobblestones that lead through the garden to the front door and knocked, hearing the sound echo behind the door. Remus approached his side.

After a teasingly long wait, Lilly opened the door. She wore black combat boots and leggings, with a sleeveless gold crop top. She had multiple piercings in either ear and a nose ring going through her right nostril. Even the hairclips she wore around her high ponytail matched. All gold, all begging for the spotlight. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” Roman said.

“What, no welcome gift?” she teased. “Yo, Remus, nice ‘stache.”

“That thing is not a mustache,” Roman said. “Stop encouraging him.”

Remus elbowed his side. “He’s just jealous that I’m the sexier twin.”

“ Please, you look like Billy from Stranger Things.”

“Do you know how many people want to fuck Billy?” Remus asked.

“No one with taste. ”

Lilly laughed. “Speaking of fucking, where’s your hot new loverboy?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Loverboy?”

“He’s not here yet?”

“You two are the first.”

“Thank God.” Roman pushed past Remus and went inside the house, going straight for the kitchen. “Lilly, girl, bestie, help.”

“You are the epitome of confidence, Roman,” she deadpanned. 

“This epitome needs a fucking drink if I’m going to get through this.”

“Roman, are you sure you’re up for this?” Remus asked.

“Yes,” he and Lilly said in unison. 

Lilly took two bottles out of the fridge and simultaneously poured them into the same red plastic cup. She wrote Roman’s initials on it in gold Sharpie and handed it over. 

Roman took a swig and squeezed every muscle in his face to get through the burn. “Lilly, this thing is more bitter than you are.”

She rolled her eyes. “Cranberry vodka lemonade.”

“Oh great. Because alcohol doesn’t stink enough. Let’s put the two most bitter fruits imaginable in it.”

“The two most bitter fruits are standing in front of me right now.”

He took another big sip. “I hate you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, maybe we can get your new fling to fuck that stick out of your ass.”

“I’m going to need a drink just to get through this conversation,” Remus said. 

“Which fruit juice do you want spiked?”

“Just get me a beer.”

“Boring,” Lilly said as Roman said, “Gross.”

Roman took the last long swig of his drink and hit the empty cup onto the counter, the plastic crumpled under the weight. “Another,” he said. “I refuse to be sober until the plan is in action.”

Girls and their curls and their gourmet vomit

The party was loud once the sun had gone down. The colorful lights of Lilly’s various themed party lights and mini Christmas lights danced across the walls. Roman was sitting on a corduroy couch in the corner of the room with Remy and Emile next to him. And he was sobering up faster than he would have liked. 

“Hey, sexy bitches,” Lilly yelled, making her way into their corner with two cups in her hand. She handed one to Roman. “Emile, right? Listen, listen, I need your help. You’re like, super tall-”

Remy laughed. 

“-and I need help getting something off a shelf. You up for it?”

“I can help,” Remy offered. “I’m taller than Em anyway.”

Lilly frowned. “No, no, you have short king energy.” She made grabby hands toward Emile.

“I, uh, I’ll catch you guys later,” Emile said. Despite being at a party, he still wore a brown cardigan and had the exact vibe of a well-loved teddy bear. This vibe was only enhanced by Lilly running her hands over his arm and leaning her cheek on his shoulder as she led him out of view. Roman didn’t know if that was part of the plan or if she was just that tipsy. 

He took a sip of his drink, some fruity concoction that didn’t taste alcoholic, but the buzz that went straight to his head said otherwise. He didn’t have time to worry about how sober Lilly was. He needed to make sure that for the next twenty minutes, he wasn’t.  

“Your friend seems nice,” Remy said.

Roman snorted. “When she wants to be.”

“Is conditionally nice your type?” 

“I’m not going to fuck Lilly,” Roman said. “Even if she had a hot twin brother. Or was a guy.” He shook his head and took another sip. “Not going to happen.”

Remy laughed. “My bad. I just meant for friends. I can be a callous bitch too, you know.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Not out loud,” he corrected. 

Roman frowned. “I don’t think you’re a bitch.”

“Well... that’s nice. Makes someone, I guess.” He smiled softly. If one only looked at his mouth, they’d think him happy. But Roman watched his eyes. His gaze was a million miles away. 

Roman took his hand and leaned in close, his nose brushed against Remy’s cheek. “Do you wanna do something stupid?”

Remy raised an eyebrow. “How stupid?”

Roman only smiled. 

Boys and their toys and their six-inch rockets 

Lilly was right, in a way. 

Roman wasn’t thinking about the breakup when Remy’s mouth was pressed against his. He wasn’t hating himself when his fingers were tracing the muscles in Remy’s back.

He wasn’t thinking about anything then. 

We’re all very lovely, ‘til we get to know each other

He woke up on Lilly’s couch with a headache and some sore muscles from being very active in a very small closet. 

Remy was nowhere to be seen.

As he sat up, a pain ran across his neck and over his head. He groaned, which elicited more groans from the many hungover strangers on the floor. Other friends of Lilly’s. It was strange to imagine her having an entire social life without him. Especially after…

An alarm pulled him from his thoughts and made the pissed crowd even more pissed off . People fumbled around to find the evil beeping device. Roman awkwardly pulled himself off the couch and stepped around them all, making his way towards the kitchen. As he crept with his bare feet ( Where did I leave those shoes? ) against the cold tile, he could see a door down the hallway that sat wide open, and Emile was sleeping on the bed. Roman frowned, trying to pull himself back to the coffee pot but finding it hard to move. What happened last night?

He didn’t remember moving to actually get a cup of coffee. He didn’t remember dialing Remus to pick him up. He didn’t remember to find his shoes before pulling himself into that beat-up green Jeep. He just stared out the window idly, his mind stuck on the image of Emile laying on the bed in Lilly’s room. 

As we stop becoming friends

One thing Roman wanted was a dorm. He loved watching dorm tours and looking at tiny room decor on Pinterest. No matter how much Remus insisted redecorating his bedroom was a “waste of time” and “a massive waste of time”, Roman was still determined to make his second year at Western feel like a fresh start. His hair dye was starting to fade, and God knew he needed a do-over. 

His scalp was tingling under the dye and his arms were sore from moving around furniture. But it almost looked like his grand vision. Almost. 

“Why the fuck do you have a bag on your head?”

“Why the fuck do you always bother me?” 

Remus shrugged. His bangs were wrapped in tinfoil. “Twintuition, I guess.”

“Okay, first of all, twintuition sounds stupid as fuck. Second of all, you have no room to judge Wal-Mart Couture.”

Remus rolled his eyes but stepped on his tippy toes to see over Roman’s shoulder. “Holy fucking shit dick, you moved a lot of junk around.”

“Eloquent as always.”

“How much time have you spent on interior design TikTok.”

“None.”

Remus raised an eyebrow and stared right at Roman.

 He couldn’t stand seeing Remus look so tired of him.

Roman looked at the ground sheepishly. “I’ve been on Interior Design YouTube.”

“Of course, you were.” He sat his hands on his hips and said, “You should at least make your skills... useful. ”

Roman made a gasp of offense and gestured to the newly decorated room behind him.

Remus, once again, rolled his eyes. “I meant Emile. He’s moving soon, I figured you’d like to help him.”

“I didn’t know he was moving,” Roman said with furrowed brows.

Remus’s eyes went wide. “Maybe... that was for a reason. Fuck.”

“A reason?” Roman asked. His cheeks were burning but his blood ran cold. 

“Forget I said anything,” Remus said, uncharacteristically quiet. He walked away. 

And we start becoming lovers 

It was two days before he heard from anyone. Two. Quiet. Mindnumbing. Days. But when he finally got a text from Remy he was ready to throw caution to the wind just for the chance to talk to someone. He was out of the house before he’d even had time to panic about whether or not his outfit was right. 

They were meeting at a park just between their neighborhoods. It had a castle fit for the mightiest of knights and a blue sky where it never rained and sunlight that never burned, the home to a myriad of childhood adventures. Roman drove with his childhood self buckled into the backseat and ready to run. 

Dark grey clouds stood in battle formation at the edge of the sky as he pulled into the parking lot. When Roman turned off the ignition of his car, he stood 19 years old and all alone. The sound of his locking car dominated the empty space. He walked along the stained sidewalk that was only distinguishable from the dirt path due to all the scars filled with dandelions and every other flower that grows in the neglect of childhood innocence. He plucked a dandelion from the ground and put it in his pocket. The Castle of Kings was now just old plastic warped into something reminiscent of a house. It was smaller. It must have been smaller because Roman didn’t dare speak the alternative. 

Remy was moving half-heartedly on a rusty old swing. They were not the children they used to be. The ghosts of the past could not imagine the concrete of the future-- stained with dandelion scars. Roman took a seat on the swing next to Remy, who seemed to be lost in thought, and for a moment he did nothing but quietly observe. Remy’s sunglasses were gone, allowing the curl of his long lashes and the sharp corners of his eyes to meet the spotlight. They were close enough to touch, but Roman didn’t dare. He feared everything around him was but a dream and that the one real tie would collapse like sand if he dared disturb it. 

Remy took a deep breath. He met Roman’s eyes. “Your friend knows how to throw one hell of a party, huh?”

He laughed, though nothing was funny. “You could say that. She’s always been the... wilder of the two of us.”

“I don’t know. You and I had a pretty wild time in her closet.”

This time, it was funny. 

But Remy took a breath. “But I did want to ask you about it.” And it seemed that even the wind hid inside his lungs. 

“What... is there to ask?”

Remy reached out, tenderly laying his fingers over Roman’s hand. “Are you sure you’re... ready? I mean, if that was a one-time thing, I get it. But, if it wasn’t, are you ready for a relationship?”

“No,” Roman said, “but I... don’t want that to be a one-time thing, either.”

“So, what do you want?”

Roman’s heart beat like a drummer leading troops into battle. “To kiss you again.”

The metal chains of the swing made music to the beat of Roman’s heart and the accompaniment of thunder rolling. Remy pulled himself, still sitting on the swing, closer to Roman. He held onto the chains above Roman’s head and pulled him closer, letting their lips meet and fighting the natural positions of the swings that one misstep would pull them back to. Roman put his hands on Remy’s waist and held on as tightly as he could. Raindrops fell on his skin as Remy’s tongue traced over his lips. The rain came down hard and fast and Roman leaned in to kiss Remy harder but the plastic swing had grown slick and they both fell to the ground, Remy’s hands on the dirt on either side of Roman’s face. 

Now, this is a view I could get used to, Roman thought, followed by, Fuck, that hurt.

“Are you okay?” Remy asked.

“That depends. Are you going to kiss it better?”

Remy laughed. Their mouths met again. 

And I don’t belong to anyone

They weren’t in a relationship. Not really. But that was irrelevant when they were in each other’s arms, in bed sheets, in nothing but pure escapism. They still had their platonic rendezvous for coffee or thrifted clothes, and moments with friends where everyone sat none the wiser to what happened behind closed doors. For once Roman wasn’t being shown off as he’d once dreamed of being. For once, Roman was happy. 

I’m only happy when I’m on the run

First day of classes. There was something in the air. Hope? Opportunity? Whatever it was, Roman wanted to breathe it in and keep it trapped within his lungs. But instead, he replaced it with a spray of cologne over his clothes, hoping the scent of an ocean breeze would be substitute enough for optimism. He reviewed his outfit again and again. A red polo with beige chinos and a gold chain in place of a belt. He hoped the bright red of his hair wasn’t too much, but also knew he didn’t exactly have time to dye it back to brown. So he took a breath, grabbed his bag (adorned with Disney pins and a shiny gold crown that read “He/Him/His”) and accepted his fate. 

He grabbed breakfast downstairs and led the march to his car, with Remus and Virgil (who had spent the night) following suit. 

I break a million hearts just for fun

They pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex a block away from campus. Remy’s car pulled in right next to them and everyone celebrated the brief reunion. 

“Where’s Patton?” Virgil asked. “I thought he was supposed to ride with you.”

Remy shrugged. “All he told me was that he got a ride from someone else. I guess that someone didn’t hear about our plan to, you know, celebrate Patton.”

“Celebrating freshmen is overrated anyway,” Remus said. “I’m sure Patton just wants to pretend he’s a been-through-the-mud like the rest of us.”

Virgil furrowed his brow, obviously unhappy with the answer. “Do you think it’s because of the gap year?”

“You mean the one his parents killed?” Remus scoffed. “Can’t imagine it’s related at all.”

A knot twisted itself in Roman’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was the reminder of the group history he’d missed out on, or the scowl on Remus’s face that made every part of Roman’s brain scream “DANGER”. He shoved his hands in his pockets and said, “Let’s just find Emile’s place, alright?”

Remy laughed. “Yeah, let’s bring him into this shit show.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but said nothing. And the group ventured forwards. 

I don’t belong to anyone

Stepping into the apartment, Roman saw exactly what one would expect from a man like Emile. The kitchenette had Disney themed plates and appliances wrapped in prints from various cartoons. The oven mitts bore the faces of the stepsisters from Cinderella and magnets covered the door of the refrigerator. The little couch he had was more decorative pillow than seat and random blankets with lots of colors and designs he couldn’t make out were haphazardly strewn about the place. 

“Killer place, Em,” Virgil said.

“You think?” Emile asked with a smile.

Remy put a hand on his shoulder and said, “This is about the most Emile Picani thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It gets even more Emile Picani,” said Emile Picani. He opened up a door which revealed his bedroom: a small place filled with stuffed animals and covered with posters along the walls. He had a window where an array of small potted plants sat in a line on the sill. Some were in pots shaped like Pokémon or other cartoon characters, while others were in terracotta pots that had been painted with an amount of detail that must have taken hours of work and more attention than Roman had ever held in his life. 

“You were right,” Virgil said. “This did get a lot more Emile Picani.”

Emile smiled proudly. 

“Should we head off to class?” Roman asked.

Virgil groaned dramatically. “How dare you suggest we go to class on the first day of classes? I want this summer to last forever.”

“I don’t,” Roman murmured under his breath. 

I guess you could say that my life’s a mess

But I’m still lookin’ pretty in this dress

With bags slung over their shoulders, the group walked to campus like an image right out of a movie. They looked cool, intimidating, with the wind blowing perfectly through their hair. At least, that was how Roman envisioned it. Perfect. Theatrical. The opening credits rolling in every window they passed. The start of his story- where nothing before it mattered. 

“You know... I can’t help but worry about Patton,” Emile confessed.

“Patton’s smart. He’s not going to have any problem with college classes,” Virgil said.

Emile furrowed his brow. “That’s not... what I meant. I don’t like that he bailed on us without saying anything.”

“Then bail him back,” Remus said. “I don’t have time for anyone who breaks those kinds of promises.”

“That seems... intense,” Emile said. “Come on, can we at least check the campus coffee shop for him?”

Remus sighed. “Fine. You get five minutes, then I’m gone.”

Emile gave a smile, but Roman could see the fear behind it. No one liked Remus being angry. 

At least the coffee shop wasn’t too far away. Though the silence that hung over the group the rest of the way there turned the short walk into a long and treacherous journey. The silence wasn’t even the worst of it. 

They entered the coffee shop with its dusty lamps and stained couches and the smell of burnt espresso that always felt like home. But there were two figures, wrapped up in each other on one of those old couches. A familiar birthmark and a snake tattoo on an arm that wrapped around a younger figure. With faded blue bangs. 

Roman swore he was going to be sick.

“I... guess we found him,” Emile said quietly.

Janus slowly pulled away from Patton and glanced at the group with a smirk. He held eye contact with Roman, clearly attempting some sort of mind control.

Roman froze. The spell was working. 

“Long time no see, friends,” Janus drawled. 

“Hey guys,” Patton said quietly, his cheeks flushed red and his lips swollen. 

Roman was going to cry.

No, he refused to cry. He refused to give Janus any sort of satisfaction. 

He turned his gaze back towards the group. He could pretend to have not even noticed Janus. Better yet, he could have pretended that he did notice Janus but that seeing his ex make out with someone he wanted to call a friend was so minimal that it didn’t even warrant mention. “Remy,” he said, “hurry up and order your coffee. We’re going to be late to astronomy.”

Remy took a sharp breath. “Astronomy. Right.” He headed for the counter and the (confused) trio followed him. 

Roman took his hand, squeezing it tightly, hoping that Janus saw. Hoping that he might be able to withstand his mind falling apart like sand so long as Remy didn’t do the same. 

“Are you alright?” Remy whispered.

“Of course I am.”

I’m the master of deception

If you asked Roman what happened that day in his classes, he couldn’t tell you. 

The attendance records would show that he was there. His professors would tell you that he answered every question they asked of him. 

But Roman could only remember anger. Anger at himself. And a continuous mourning of who he could have been. 

When everything is life and death

You may feel like there’s nothing left

Roman didn’t sleep well that night. 

All he saw was Janus. In his dreams. In the halls. In his nightmares.

Roman didn’t sleep well at all. 

Instead of love and trust and laughter

His parents were going out of town for the weekend. And he no longer cared about civility towards his neighbors. 

What you get is happy never after. 

He was already drunk before the party began. He could remember sobering up, surrounded by lights and sounds and people, and he could remember the crushing anxiety in the back of his mind yelling at him for all that had gone wrong. He took a couple shots. That shut the voice right up. 

Friends of Lilly’s danced around him. Strangers in the intimate space of his home. A girl was dancing with him, flowers in her dark braids and sangria in her cup. Roman didn’t even have sangria in the house. He didn’t question where she got it from. 

The night flowed from bottle to cup to lips. It rushed by in drunk kisses between friends. All Roman cared about was the bliss of dancing wildly and the happy buzz in his brain. A warm hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from the heart of the party. He whined in protest and frowned until he saw the black eyes and midnight blue hair. 

He laughed. “Remy, you’re very fun but I’m not in the mood for ‘privacy’ right now.”

Remy handed him a water bottle. “Roman, you need a break. Drink this.” Remus, Virgil, and Emile were standing behind him. 

He groaned. “I’m fine , Rem. I’m having fun.”

“ Roman,” he said sharply. 

The playlist changed and played something with a fast tempo, heavy on the guitar and beating drums through Roman’s skull. He laughed. “I’m not Roman anymore. Roman is dull.” He jumped onto the couch, landing between two boys who seemed unhappy to have their make out session interrupted. “I’m Electra Heart, BABY!” He screamed and the crowd around him cheered loudly. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Remy said. “Come on, party’s over.”

The drunken crowd booed. 

Remus raised an airhorn over his head and announced, “If this house isn’t empty in twenty minutes, we’re calling the cops.”

They booed again. 

He held down the horn and Roman grabbed onto his ears in pain. Before he could even figure out if the horn had blown out his hearing, people were making their way out of the house. 

“I hate you,” he said to Remus. “You’re the worst brother in the world.”

“Roman,” Remy said, holding the bottle out again, “please just drink some water.”

“And why should I?”

“Because you’ll hate yourself when you’re hungover.”

He gave a sharp laugh. “You mean like how I’ll hate myself sober?” He went to take another sip of his drink when Remy’s fingers closed around his wrist, holding his hand in place.

“Don’t do this, Roman.”

“Or what?” he whispered. 

With Remy still holding Roman’s hand in place, Virgil took away the cup. Roman glared at him. 

Emile spoke up, “Roman, this isn’t healthy behavior.”

“Who- fucking- cares?” he spat. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter telling me what to do.”

He took a sharp breath. “Your actions say otherwise.”

“Go fuck yourself, Rat.”

Emile stared at him and the rest of the world melted away. He straightened his shoulders, let out a short breath, and walked out of the house. 

Roman doesn’t remember the rest of that night.

But deep down all you want is love,

He woke up on the couch with a sharp pain in his neck and some medieval torture device tightening around his skull. He pressed his palms against his eyes, but the pressure only gave minimal relief. He ran his fingers through his hair and a surge of light entered the room. He screamed out and squeezed his eyes tightly. 

He heard someone sigh and say quietly, “Get up, Roman.” It was Remus. And he sounded so disappointed. 

Roman groaned. “Get me water.”

“No.”

“No?!” Roman started to sit up but the pain in his head intensified and he lost all ability to think. “Why no?”

Remus spoke calmly- too calmly- and said, “You can take care of yourself, can’t you?”

“You’re a dick.”

“Don’t treat me like a mirror, Roman.”

The pure kind we all dream of

Lilly sat down in front of him, effectively ruining his private moment of peace and quiet. “You look like shit,” she said. 

He couldn’t deny it. He’d barely slept in days and hadn’t even mustered the energy to shower. There was a pile of schoolwork in front of him- more of it overdue and unstarted than he wanted to admit. “Apparently once you fuck yourself over, it’s very hard to unfuck yourself.”

“You could always sell your soul in exchange for getting your virginity back. That would unfuck you.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Very helpful, Lilly.”

“Speaking of getting fucked,” she started. 

Roman didn’t know if he wanted to kill her or himself. 

“How are things going with your lover boy friend?”

“I... think I messed that up, too. I don’t know.” He let his head fall into his hands, his palms pressed against his eyes. “I think I need to start over.”

“With Remy?”

“With life. At least, the past year of it.”

“Well, you could always start over and have someone else as a distraction,” she suggested. “Just not that Soft Boy friend of yours.” 

“Emile?” Roman asked, looking up at Lilly and furrowing his brows. 

“Yeah, figured we’d have a little fun while I had to keep him distracted,” she confessed, “but he said he had... something going on with someone. Denied they were dating, but still told me he didn’t want to feel like he was cheating.”

“I guess I really don’t know Emile,” Roman mumbled to himself. “Who do you think it is?”

She shrugged. “You’d know better than I would.”

Roman silently went back to his work. I don’t think I know anything anymore.

But we cannot escape the past

So you and I will never last

The doorbell echoed before Roman could even make the decision to press it. Better that way , he told himself. He wouldn’t be pathetic. He needed to fight the urge to run. 

The door opened and he swallowed the lump in his throat, ready to word vomit to Remy. But he wasn’t the one behind the door. 

“Um, hi Mrs. Cho,” he said.

She laughed. She was a tall woman with her black hair pinned behind her ears and dangling earrings that matched the shiny black dress she wore. Anyone would assume she was on her way to a night out. Roman knew she was just dressed to watch soap operas or whatever it was that moms did when their sons weren’t home. “Hello, Mr. Barnes. I’ve told you that you can call me Seline.”

Roman squeezed his hands at his side. “I don’t think that’s physically possible, Mrs. Cho. Is Remy around?”

“He’s up in his room,” she said. “Should I tell him to come down?”

“Is it alright if I go up? I need to talk to him and I’d rather not inconvenience him.” More than I already have.  

She stepped back and gestured for him to come inside. He quietly thanked her and hurried up to Remy’s room upstairs- the blue door marked with construction paper stars. He opened the door slowly. At the rate his life was going, he didn’t think his heart would ever stop racing. 

Remy was sitting at his desk with a large pair of headphones that he took off when the door opened. When he saw Roman, time must have frozen.

Roman opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find a single word. He walked forward and closed the door behind him. He kneeled on the ground in front of Remy, both his knees pressing into the old carpet. 

Remy’s eyebrows were furrowed.

He doesn’t want you here, a voice told him. He hates you now. You’re ruining things even more. You’re pathetic. He choked on the apology trying to rush from his throat all at once. “I’m- Remy, I’m so sorry.”

Remy folded his hands on his lap and stared down at Roman, trying to be expressionless. But despite his best efforts, the concern in his eyes said more than any word ever could. “What are you sorry for, Electra Heart?”

Roman cringed. “For being a drunken idiot. And an arrogant asshole.” He forced a laugh. “And the terrible hangover I got because of it.”

“You deserved that hangover.”

“I did. I really did.” 

‘Cause I’m a homewrecker, homewrecker

“But I had time to realize that... I should have let you take care of me,” he said. His eyes began to burn. “I shouldn’t have pushed away your concern for me- or anyone else’s. Remus made it incredibly clear that no one wanted a thing to do with me after that night.”

(I’m only happy when I’m on the run)

“A- And I get it! I wouldn’t want a thing to do with me either, but- fuck- Remy, you mean so much to me and even if you never talk to me again, I’m not just here to fuck and- okay, I’ll admit it- you are a good kisser, but more importantly you’re my friend and-” Tears were coming out faster than words and he pushed so hard through the sobs blocking his airways. He could barely breathe but that didn’t matter. He’d rather die on Remy’s old carpet than spend the rest of his life being fucked up and alone. 

‘Cause I’m a homewrecker, homewrecker

“Roman,” Remy said sharply.

Roman covered his mouth with his hands and tried to muffle his labored breathing. 

(I broke a million hearts just for fun)

There was a gentle kiss against his forehead and a rush of warmth as two arms wrapped around him. His cheek was pressed against Remy’s chest. He couldn’t stop shaking as his struggle to breath took over his whole body. Remy rocked him back and forth. 

“No one is going to leave you,” Remy said softly. “Remus was just being a dick as always. He’s been... pissed off. At other people. And I won’t pretend you didn’t hurt us, but I also won’t pretend not to know why.”

Roman tried to speak. He tasted the salt of his tears rolling against his lips. 

“Things will be okay, Roman.” 

Roman’s sobs quieted down and Remy continued to gently rock him back and forth. 

“I promise.”

Homewrecker

Homewrecker

#welcome to the life of electra heart #Electra Heart au #sanders sides fic #tss fic #creativisleep #ts roman #ts remy #ts remus #ts sleep #roman angst #roceit #ts creativisleep #ts princey #Roman Sanders #ts virgil #ts Dr. Picani #CT Dr. Picani #MARINA song fic #Marina and the Diamonds song fic #ts song fic #ts multi chapter fic #ts multi ship fic

[im-actually-ok]

Fangs

Chapter Seven

First, Previous, Next

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: They’re one big happy fahm

Word Count: 1574

Genre: Some fluff, some forebodingness

Warnings: Fangs, very slight body horror(the fangs), wild animal, wolf, swearing? Wine (Lo’s a wine mom this time) (i think that’s it but if I missed anything please let me know so I can add it, thank you!!!)

-----

Logan was beginning to regret his life choices. After trying very hard to get rid of the fangs, trying very hard to figure out why they stuck around, he found that the best use of his time was sitting silently crosslegged on the floor, staring into the eyes of an animal who is unwilling to relinquish its secrets.

“You know, wolf, I think I’ve begun to grow weary of thith room.” Logan sighed, placing his face into the palm of his hand. The wolf, of course, does not respond, so Logan responds for it. “Well, then why don’t you tell the otherth? Well, it’th because I’m a child with teeth issueth who cannot figure out this thimple thing. Thomething even Patton could figure out.”

The wolf in front of him simply cocked its head to the side, Logan mirroring the action, furrowing his brows while he looked at the creature before waving his hand and watching the imagined creature disappear with a huff. “I’m getting nowhere, and now, I’m talking to mythelf.”

To be fair, Roman had been busy. Thomas’s channel had been getting more attention than normal so Roman had been working nonstop to ensure everything was perfect. Logan wanted to be present for everything but he couldn’t let go of the feeling, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but the closest he could guess had to be inadequacy. He wasn’t sure if it was exactly what he was feeling, though he’d never admit he was feeling anything, at least out loud. Though, that hadn’t been the only thing. Anger was a creeping, lingering fly that continued to bash into the side of Logan’s mind, but he figured if it was left alone for long enough, maybe it would simply fly away.

With a breath he flopped back onto the floor, staring up at the small stars pasted on the ceiling of his bedroom. Virgil had helped him put them up a while ago, Logan had been overworking himself and Virgil said it they were a reward, that Logan deserved something for working so hard. Logan hardly thought he had done enough to earn any sort of reward, but Virgil insisted. Only later did Logan realize it was also a ruse to get him to take a break, but he didn’t mind, he still enjoyed the view.

Logan hadn’t really noticed the isolation for a while, but it was starting to catch up with him. Sure, he had Roman, but there was only so much of him that he could take, and now even Roman couldn’t be around, though he couldn’t blame him.

“This thucks.” He mumbled to himself but sighed and made his way to his feet, “But laying around won’t get me anywhere. I’m thtuck, right, tho let’s think clearly. I’m… admittedly frustrated and it’th clogging my mind… What would they advise…?” Logan thought for a moment before sucking in a breath and puffing his chest out, drawing his arms up in Roman’s signature pose, long bangs falling into his eyes.

“Roman would thay something foolish like ‘Just take a breath, Erlenmeyer trash’, but it would be coming from a good place. Patton would tell me that I’m trying to rush through my feelingth, that I thhoud thop and feel them, but I’m not going to do that. Remuth would… No. Januth would get the wine… not a bad idea. Virgil would thay thomething like ‘well, if that’s out of your control, why not work on thomething in your control?’, though I doubt there’th thomething I could…” He would have dismissed that idea but looking around his room, his eyes widened a tad in the realization of how bad it had gotten. Logan was always harping on Thomas for maintaining a clean work environment but failed to demonstrate this himself.

A touch of red crept over his cheeks as he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pushing his glasses up to hold it out of his eyes, “I thuppose I could benefit from a… more organized area…” Logan waved a hand and a glass of wine appeared in his hand. With a small sip, he sighed, “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

---

After a long day of working out video ideas with old Tommy boy, Roman finally collapsed on the couch next to Virgil, who had been inputting his opinion for half of the suggestions and for the other half, had simply been roasting all hell out of Roman, but Roman knew he was just joking around… hopefully.

“Good googly-moogly, I’m beat.” Roman huffed and leaned his head back, chin tilted to the ceiling.

Virgil chuckled and jabbed Roman with his elbow, eliciting a choked surprised noise from Roman, “Yeah, well maybe it wouldn’t have taken so long if you took a few of my suggestions.”

Roman rolled his eyes with a small smirk, “Yeah, as if. I’d barely call them suggestions. You’re the main reason we ran so late, you one-eyed one-horned flyin’ purple idea eater.”

“What was that?”

“What? I’m tired and my nickname supply is running low. What time is it anyway?”

“Movie time! That’s what!” Patton cheered, entering the room with an armful of popcorn bowls, soda, and hot chocolate packets with Janus in tow, carrying the blankets and plushies.

“Woah, is it Friday already?” Virgil checked his phone to be sure, “I completely forgot about movie night. Is Remus coming this time or is he just watching adult stuff in his room?”

Patton hummed and plopped down on the couch next to Virgil, “He’s joining us this week, I convinced him because I said he could help pick, but that it had to be rated PG or under,” He smiled and set out everything on the coffee table while Janus dumped the stuffed stuff on top of him.

“Then it’ll be everyone this week, right?” Janus said with a grin, “Great, I’m /so excited/ to share my leg space with everyone.”

“Well… not everyone..”

This comment was made by Virgil, who was rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. The room went a bit quiet, the elephant in the room getting larger by the moment.

“I’ll go ask him.” Patton said, standing up, “I-I won’t push or anything, I’ll just ask and leave him be if that’s what he wants.”

Roman shifted a bit in his seat before standing up as well, “I can go talk to him if you want, padre?”

Something in Patton’s expression shifted a little bit but he put on a smile, “No, that’s ok, Roman, I got this.” Patton nodded and began to make his way up the stairs, leaving Roman to sigh and sit down again, fidgeting with his hands for a moment before moving to stand up again, only to be stopped by Virgil.

“Hey, Romano, take a deep breath, ok? Logan wouldn’t want you freaking out about him. If he wants to join us, he will. He’s not gonna bite Pat’s head off for asking.” Virgil reassured, but Roman wasn’t all too sure about that fact either.

After a few more minutes Patton came down alone again, telling them how his knocks were met with a polite decline. Patton wouldn’t admit it but they could all tell he was upset by this fact. The movie they then decided on, with Remus’s help was The Corpse Bride, in which Roman and Virgil fell asleep halfway through due to their long day of brainstorming. They then turned on Aristocats, a favorite of Patton’s (Cuz of the cats). Midway through was when Roman began to wake again, blinking his eyes open a bit to see that Remus had also fallen asleep once the movie he chose ended, seeing only Patton and Janus were left up.

“Jeez, everyone was tired, huh?” Roman chuckled, rubbing his eyes, “What time is it, anyway?”

Patton looked over and checked his phone, “It’s… oh, about 1:15, I guess we did stay up fairly late, huh?” He chuckled and tucked his phone away.

Roman nodded and yawned again, content to go back to sleep, but his eyes opened again upon realizing he hadn’t checked on Nerdy Wolf-erine all day. “Oh geez, I- uh, forgot to check on my.. Uh. I gotta head up to bed, night guys!” Roman said, trying to swiftly untangle himself from the sleeping emo and making his way upstairs.

Janus watched him climb the stairs quickly and sighed, looking over at Patton and watching his expression shift with the pang of sorrow, knowing where Roman was going and not knowing if Logan was ok. “Hey, you alright, Frogger?”

Patton took a moment to respond, blinking and looking over after a second, putting on a smile. “Oh, me? Yeah, I’m- I’m fine, you don’t have to worry about Lil ol me.”

Janus sighed and moved a hand to rub his eye, “Kant almighty, fine, I’ll do it.”

Patton blinked and his eyes lit up, “Wait, really? You really will?”

“Yes. If it’ll help end this,” He gestured between Patton and the stairs, “As soon as possible.”

Patton let you a small squeal and hugged Janus tight, “Thank you thank you thank you!! I promise I won’t make you do anything like this ever again, just this once, thank you!”

Janus rolled his eyes and smiled, “Yeah whatever, but if I get in trouble it’s on you.”

Patton smiled, “Alright, deal. This’ll make things easier, I just know it.”

---

Woah! Well we’ll have to wait and see what’s in store for our dear friend Logan. It’s been a good while since I uploaded one of these because I honestly forgot about them!! Hope people are still interested!

Taglist:

@did-he-just-hiss-at-me @aegis-the-ace @occasional-fander @thefivecalls @wishthefish916 @osdd1b-partner-system-dynamics @somewhatvacant @a-soul-among-stars @superweebside @ravenwashere1776

#because i can #sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #tss fic #fangs au #fangs

[tssidesfics]

Mirror, Mirror, Scatter Me (Janus' Requiem)

This idea has been percolating for a while. I watch compilations of Sanders' Sides cosplays and I saw a really awesome video by @salem_orchid on Tiktok. I do not watch Tiktok on that accursed app. You could never pay me enough to go on that cursed app. So have the link directly to the video in the compilation I found it in. https://youtu.be/zfcY0lYix7I?t=42 (Sound from "Echo" English Cover by Jubphonic)

This is set in what is effectively an AU of the A Story of a Soul in All Its Stripes series, where the events of Morality Is Grey happened and basically nothing else because I wrote a hundred thousand words on the gradual degradation of Virgil's relationship with Janus and I cannot not be loyal to that interpretation. What am I gonna do? Write another slow-burn platonic dissolution of affection and trust? I'm busy. It is very angsty.

*

Janus is not woeful. Despite the void in his chest beside a porcupine heart of mirror shards, he does not grieve. He is a mastermind. He is whole despite the parts of him Virgil fled with without remorse. He is defiant and strong and he does not grieve. Grief is weak. He does not grieve.

Never mind how he clutches a hoodie that is not his to his chest and weeps.

Infiltration was slow, calculated, and scorched with wrong turns. Relying on Virgil to leave the door open for them had gone to shit, something Janus should have predicted--a coward cannot be trusted to remain loyal--and it had taken weeks before Janus found a new pathway, stumbled upon by accident. Behind a mask, Janus found himself in the glaring light of knownness, and from that place weaved a new plan: strategic, gradual capitalization, exploitation, and manipulation paving the road, a cobblestone at a time, for the others to claim their place among the bastards that had thrust them into twilight so long ago.

For so long, that had been his one goal. His only objective. Convince Thomas that he could not divide himself by arbitrary lines of right and wrong, reprogram the years of Catholic brainwashing, and build thrones for the others where traitors dwelt.

And in the end, he had succeeded. Now came the aftermath. It should have brought peace, relief.

But there is still a void beside a porcupine heart, mirror shards endlessly reflecting the faces of those around him. Janus' soul is a fun-house of mirrors without the fun, each Side distorting through them, just a piece at a time, copying over and shifting, reflecting over on itself ad infinitum. It had been an advantage for a long time.

Now it was a haunting.

"When are you going to drop the mysterious act?" Roman asked during breakfast one day, lacking tact but not friendliness. A loathsome sentiment to regard Janus with. "You won. We're all fine with you now. Let people actually get to know you."

Janus arched an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, elicited this?"

Roman shrugged. "Nobody knows you. I mean, obviously Patton, Logan and I aren't running around hiding anything about ourselves. Virgil stopped being brooding and mysterious ages ago and now he's just brooding."

"I am not a YA love interest. All I am is tired of your bullshit."

"Nah, Logan claims that one."

"I am willing to share with Virgil. You are all exhausting."

"Shut up, Pocket Protector."

"It pleases me to notice that while you seem endlessly capable of creating new nicknames for Virgil, I remain so impossible for you to intelligently insult that you reuse the same tired nicknames every conversation we share."

Roman glared at him. "I will misspell every word in your filing system."

"Attempt it and you will cease to be an annoyance entirely."

"Kids..." Patton chided. "Play nice."

Roman and Logan both emphatically rolled their eyes, returning to their breakfasts--Roman, a heaping pile of pancakes marinating in butter and syrup; Logan, eggs and ham.

Janus allowed the conversation to derail without interjection from him, knowing such a thing would only redirect attention back to the original recipient. What Roman asked was simple enough. Janus had no more need to hide. Their place at Thomas' side was assured now.

But to be honest about himself with others required that he know something to be honest with.

Janus is not a stupid Side. He is among the best educated of them, bested only by Logan who he believes has never spent a single moment entertaining self-care or downtime, rather intent on burying himself seventeen feet deep in work. He understands philosophy well. He can argue it for hours and he will win most arguments he initiates on the subject, including with Logan (though Logan maintains an imbecilic distaste for the whole concept). He concocted multiple plans that inevitably paved the way for a more complete Thomas. He was not an idiot.

But that said nothing about his sense of his self, his identity.

He can name things affiliated with him. Deception, self-care, selfishness. A shapeshifter, duplicitous. Untrustworthy, manipulative. He maintains pride for those things (although as time reaches ever-forward certain traits among that list tint a darker and darker grey, some days appearing almost black). But associations, correlations are not definitions.

A lack of definition was easily used to one's advantage. When you lacked a cohesive sense of yourself, it was easy to slip into whatever skin best suited your objective. While not all faces were made equal and not all souls were easily emulated, nonetheless such adaptability, when it had brought them so much, Janus refused to slander.

For years Janus had gone without any name, dubbed only by a color that now drenches him in acid every time someone dares spite him with it. Something Virgil does frequently, having not yet forgiven Janus for the slights he'd imagined committed against him in their time as allies. Janus tires of it and such instances always escalate into impassioned, vitriolic arguments where no weakness is left unexploited. Every foul piece of laundry hung out to poison the air, every bystander horrified to shock.

"You've never been anything but whatever you needed to be to get what you wanted, Janus," Virgil spits. "You can't trust something that can't even decide what the hell it is long enough to give you an honest fucking answer."

Janus stares at him. The shards buried all around his heart reflect Virgil's hateful glare and plunge deeper. Without a word, Janus sinks out.

Within minutes there's a knock at his door. Janus stands in his bathroom, staring into the mirror, straight into it, which he never does. Even glimpsing it sends shards barreling toward him, but now he's standing at its mercy. There's no room left for the shards. Some are falling out to make room, others are making themselves at home past the external wall, deep into the inner valves. His heart tries to pump around them but fails. Janus' eyes burn, unblinking while dams hold back moisture.

"Janus?" Patton calls inside. "I'm...sorry about Virgil." He sounds like he usually does after such arguments: like he feels drawn to take a side but can't decide whose. "What he said was really mean. You said some mean things too, but obviously what he said really hurt you, so...do you want to talk about it?"

Janus opens his mouth to call back to him and his throat snaps closed. No sound escapes. He strains to push out air and fails, gripping his throat.

After a moment of struggling to no avail, Patton takes his silence as an answer. "Okay," he says. "We're here if you need anything. Virgil went back to his room, so the commons are open."

Janus hangs his head and his hands fall limp to grip the sink. He notices then that his hands not only lack their gloves but are decidedly paler than his natural, if faint, tan. Moreover, they are both human, no scales to be seen blemishing either. He frowns and lifts his eyes to the mirror, jolting.

Virgil's purple and brown eyes stare back at him.

Alarmed, Janus gropes his face. When did he shift? Why? It wasn't intentional. It was usually intentional, except for--times when he was emotionally compromised.

Shit. He willed himself back to his typical visage. It had no effect. He tried again. Still no effect. Worse yet, instead he shifted to look like Roman instead. Another attempt brought force Remus' visage, then Logan's and Patton's and back to Virgil and Rage's and endlessly he cycled through until it was happening at dizzying speeds.

Janus couldn't breathe. He had no control. It hurt, shifting so many times, over and over again, body warping, shifting, hunching, lengthening, shortening. He couldn't scream. He wouldn't call for help regardless. He wouldn't debase himself like that. Despite his pain and fear, he would never stoop so low.

Janus sinks to the floor, gripping his hair as it endlessly shifts in length and color. Finally his eyes moisten, weeping never mind the face he wears. He's exhausted, but while he continues to shift he can't sleep. He prays for mercy, knowing it won't come. He doesn't know how he'll help Thomas like this.

He doesn't suppose it matters. Thomas has united the discordant parts of himself. Janus' purpose has been fulfilled. There is no further need for a monster.

Hands grip his wrists. Janus lashes out but is easily restrained, gaze settling on Virgil. Janus stares.

Virgil's face is moist and streaky. He doesn't look hateful for once. He looks...regretful.

"Focus on your name," he tells him. "Just your name. Why you picked it. Focus on that."

Janus doesn't understand, but out of ideas, he obeys. He remembers searching for one, the never-ending frustration until he stumbled across the name for the two-faced god of choices. He is an existentialist, so it was fitting, especially his visage being what it was. As he always guarded the doorway to the forsaken, it couldn't fit much better.

The horrifying switching ends. Janus stares at his gloves, finally back on his hands.

Virgil smiles slightly and releases his wrists, resting back on the tile floor rather than crouching there. He crouches most places so he could certainly afford the strain, but Janus suspects it's his way of relaxing. Of acknowledging trust.

Janus stares.

Virgil stares back.

Janus shakes his head, searching for words. He finds none, not that he imagines they would have come if he had.

Virgil's face tangles in on itself and he averts his gaze. "I'm--" He strains for a moment. "I'm sorry. It--fuck."

Janus continues to stare.

"I know I fucked it up when I left," Virgil admits, forcing himself to look back at Janus although it seems like the eye contact hurts him. "It was a huge disgusting mess and we all said a lot of shitty things, but I'd been scared out of my mind for years. I was having constant panic attacks and it was affecting Thomas. I blamed it on all of you, but I never said shit. I didn't know how. I found out way too late after being here for long enough after a lecture from Logan that it's shitty and abusive to expect people to guess your boundaries when you won't fucking tell them what they are, but--fuck, I was hurt, and I don't deal with that well. It was a lot easier to hate you and use everything I'd ever loved about you against you and the others, especially you because you were the one who trained me to lie and I fucking hated doing that. I fucked it up. I fucked it up really badly and I should have just fucking owned up to it but I am very, very good at digging a deeper and deeper hole for myself. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like that, it was shitty. I'm sorry."

Without words, Janus can't answer.

Virgil takes that as his answer and sinks out.

*

The next day, Virgil finds a piece of paper on his desk in his room.

Mirror, mirror, scatter me. Take my shards and bury me. I'm the apparition of nightmares realized, the incarnation of your shame. I haunt myself with all my failures. All I know is my own name.

Shards of you are buried deep, a jagged shield that shreds my soul. All I've left are memories and shames of what I can't control.

I spurned you and turned my gaze when you would die for mercy shown. I chased you off with defiant pride and in that pride I lie alone.

The fault lies not with you, dear Brutus, but with the man power claimed all. I plead with you, forgive me, brother, as I am left alone to fall.

Virgil comes to sit with him in silence, and eventually, Janus reenters the world. He still does not quite know himself, but we are reflections of each other; only in being known can we define our souls.

Forgiveness is a fountain. Have your drink.

#sanders sides fic #tss fic #ts sides fic #tss virgil #tss janus #tss patton #tss roman #janus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #janus-centric #angst #themes of identity #janus and virgil make up

[lifewithoutrainydays]

three thomas/sides christmas fics about nothing in particular

i'm dreaming of a white christmas - thomas/logan

it's alright; i love you - thomas/patton

and nothing could go wrong (unless that's what you'd like) - thomas/remus

#tss fic #thomgan #pattmas #intrumas

[sleepless-stories]

Together For An Eternity

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40015524

Summary: When Logan (A vampire) married Virgil (A witch), he shared his life force with Virgil. They could live together for an eternity, never ageing and never dying. He could live forever with his love.

⚠ Warnings: Character Death, Murder

Logan smiled, kneeling across from Virgil. A few witnesses stood around them as they whispered their vows to each other. Both prepared for an eternity together. Logan sharing his very lifeforce with Virgil, allowing him to live forever with him. 

Virgil smiled leaning forward and kissed Logan softly. 

It’s interesting sealing something that meant you’d love each other for eternity, you’d be together forever, something as powerful as that… with something as fleeting as a kiss. Whispers of how they’d be married together forever. When their contract to be together was sealed with something as short and meaningless as pressing their lips together for a few seconds. 

Claps surrounded the two as they stood up smiling and not letting go of each other. Their vows were set in stone, sealed with their love for each other. 

_______________

Logan sighed softly fixing his hood as he walked into the grocery store, it was practically the middle of the day, the sun still high in the sky. But he needed to go out to the store to pick up some supplies for dinner, along with ingredients for Virgil. 

Virgil had been busy working on a potion and wasn’t feeling that up to going out. It was one of his bad days where he felt like every glance from a passerby bore into his soul judging him for simply existing. 

So Logan decided he’d go out instead. It wasn’t too bad, he took a potion that made him temporarily immune to the deathly rays of the sun. He didn’t completely trust that the sun still wouldn’t hurt so he still covered up like usual, as an extra measure of protection. 

He went into the grocery store and started looking around. Logan pushed a cart around glancing at his shopping list as he went. He made sure to grab everything that they’d need, random spices, some fresh fruit, veggies, herbs, bread. He mostly was grabbing some essentials and things they were beginning to run low on. 

Logan walked into the pasta aisle and sighed looking at the large variety of the thing. All that was on the list was pasta… so would he get spaghetti, elbow macaroni, macaroni, angel hair, rotini. There were just so many. Logan stepped away from his cart and grabbed a box of ziti. A sharp burning pain went through Logan’s chest suddenly. The box fell from his hand hitting the floor as he fell down to his knees. The pain persisted, something was wrong. 

Then… it was gone, the pain subsided. Though he felt… empty. He could feel a slight dull throb of pain, but something was very wrong. He pushed himself up to stand and stared at the cart. He needed to get home now. Logan started walking quickly and left the store before running home. He needed to get there right now. He needed to be sure Virgil was ok. 

Logan ran quickly, ignoring everything he passed as he ran. He needed to be home.

He got to the door to find it already open, Virgil would never just leave it open. He walked inside cautiously… when he saw Virgil. Laying out on the floor a knife through his chest stabbing into his heart… Dead. 

Logan took a deep breath and ran over before kneeling by him pulling Virgil into his arms. “No… No you can’t be dead. You’re ok. Dear it will all be alright soon enough. We can’t die…” he whispered and bowed his head resting his forehead against Virgil’s. “Love you were meant to be with me for eternity… you can’t leave me…”

There was a creaking sound upstairs, alerting Logan that someone was still there… they had killed his love. Logan’s head snapped up and rage filled him as he gently placed Virgil back down on the ground. 

Logan growled, deeply and animalistically as he walked up the stairs silently as could be. Those who did this would pay, and he would make sure they suffered.

_________________________ General Tag List @crazy-multifandomfangirl @aceawkwardunicorn @thisbluewind @fried-lemons

#Analogical #virgil sanders #ts virgil #witch!virgil #vampire!logan #logan sanders #ts logan #tw murder #tw major character death #sanders sides #tss fanfic #tss fic

[areweevercameraready]

more than beliefs (8: prince ali)

A/N: so so so excited for us to be here. I've had these chapters written for quite a while, actually — got it up to 11, which I finished last night. it takes a little bit for updates because i have a job and am a student LOL

WARNINGS: none really, there's a lot of tension and a lot of arguing, but if there's anything I missed then please let me know!

Words: 4729

here it is on AO3!

here is the masterpost (i keep forgetting to link it, oops...)

enjoy <3

“Well. Now what.”

“This is...an opportunity.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your plan. We could….well, we should ask his opinion when he wakes up, if he has one. He won’t have any preconceived notions of any of the others. So we can ask him about your plan. Or, rather….I think your plan makes sense. Already.”

“You want to….what. Follow up on what part of the plan? It’s not necessarily concrete.”

“I don’t know. It’s your plan.”

“It’s you the plan is about.”

“Fair enough. We could start with the part you’re most upset over.”

“No. No, really?”

“Why not.”

—————————————

None of them were strangers to the Imagination, not after last time, but there was something now about how they traversed the town that made it seem so normal. Maybe things had been fleshed out more in the town, but the buildings looked a little more real, the town people waving a little more emphatically. Logan squinted up at the sky, reminding himself that while time moved at a regular pace due to his involvement with the Imagination, the clouds realism and the sky’s hue were not related to him. It all looked very realistic, with a new amount of precision. 

While they walked, Logan took his time to look around the group, taking up the rear of the crowd. The Thief was in front, the Child right besides him. Logan didn’t remember them being as reliant on each other as they were now, but, well, there must be some kind of symbolic reason they looked so similar when none of the others did. The way that they leaned on each other was more than just a choice of family or partnership, it must be.

In front of him was Virgil, who kept looking back to make sure Logan was coming. He’d been near the front with the Thief for a while, before Janus approached and Virgil quickly dropped back. It was clear they didn’t want to associate with each other, for clear reasons, of course, but by god. That was going to be annoying after a while. Logan did his best not to acknowledge it. 

Patton, too, seemed to be trying not to acknowledge it. Or rather, he was trying to figure out what to do about it, looking for a way to balance both sides. He was trailing after Janus, kept looking back at Virgil and Logan. 

All of this was rather annoying. Logan had just wanted to get in, confirm Roman was alright, and get out. It was supposed to be simple and quick. 

Still, though. The nagging anxiety of something having happened to the Playwright….

It wasn’t Logan’s problem. The Playwright could handle his own. And it wasn’t as if he and Logan were companions as of late. 

“Pick it up,” the Thief called back at Logan. “We’ve gotta get back before nightfall.”

“Why?” Logan heard Janus ask, closer to the front. 

“Noted. Sorry, the detail is captivating,” Logan responded.

He stopped gawking around at the town while they walked. It had grown in detail, of course, but he could admire that some other time. It was just impressive to him, to see how Roman had grown, even to pick out the precise detailings that Logan himself helped with. He was the one who ran through Roman’s work for edits, after all. Much of the architecture was a mishmash of different historical time periods and famous forms, so it was inspiring to see how the gothic-inspired stained glass art meshed with the colorful Victorian-style exterior paints. 

One would think that, past the city walls, there would be less to look at. And one would be wrong. The grass was now definably tallgrass prairie, tall enough to almost fully cover the Child. They could see the top of his head bobbing along besides the Thief, though that was an indication of how tall the grass was. Virgil kept looking back at Logan, too. 

Logan waved his hand dismissively. Virgil didn’t need to wait for him, it was only a waste of time. Logan was on his way. But all Virgil did in response to that was to squint warily and keep walking. 

Perhaps they should talk. It has been a while and neither were allowed an audience with Thomas during the most recent bout of arguments, so Logan had an idea of what might be running through Virgil’s head but only an idea. And Virgil, when he wasn’t blowing troubles out of proportion and spurring instinctual levels of conflict, managed to have some very thoughtful ideas. Logan would give him that. 

The other two were much harder to talk with on the topic of what to do next. Patton was troubled, unendingly so, over how to approach the situation. Janus seemed to know what must be done but couldn’t recognize that perhaps the ends did not justify the means, not at all. 

Neither had wanted to listen to him, along with Roman. Janus had outright replaced him. 

No, Logan didn’t want to try talking with them any time soon. 

The grassy plains didn’t take much time to cross, not as they rushed. The sun must have been low in the sky by the time they got to the treeline, though, because the Thief waved everyone forward. He didn’t meet Patton’s eyes, nor Janus’. Not Virgils or Logans, as he took up the rear. 

“Follow the Child, he knows where he’s going from here. It’s getting late enough,” he grunted.

“Is there a reason you’re trying to get us inside fast?” Virgil asked, sparing a glance back as he climbed over a log. 

The Thief squinted at him, just as ice cold with him as the others, before responding, “Yes. You’re unarmed. If we get attacked, I’m gonna have to keep track of all of you, plus the kid. And I don’t wanna have to do that, so we’re going inside and not coming out until daybreak.”

Straight forward, though it did leave a very obvious and glaring question. “What the hell would be attacking us?”

“Nothing’s changed, V. We’re in a forest next to Remus’ side, take a fucking guess.”

“There’re probably a lot of possible things in the forest, Virgil,” Patton butted in. Up ahead, the Thief could see him count on his fingers. “Uh, last time, you were worried about bears, right?”

“Think bears,” the Thief said with a sigh, annoyance abundant. “And then think, like, no fur. Just none. Ten feet tall. And six arms.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience,” Janus hummed. Jeered, really.  Because he knew, he remembered, that the Thief had mentioned being afraid of something outside. He couldn’t really remember what, but he knew that the Thief had wanted to be indoors before nightfall last time they trekked across the meadow that separated the forest and city.

But the Thief had no patience for Janus, which was almost a return to how they’d met. Almost worse, in retrospect, because it was the rolling back of carefully crafted trust. “You’re gonna be talking from the bottom of a ditch if you keep it up.”

The rest of the walk went quietly and much quicker than before. No point in trying to start conversation when it was always going to be bitten back. Especially by the guy who was carrying weaponry, none of them wanted to cross him. Once they got past the forest line, too, it went a lot quicker. The tree wasn’t very recognizable to most of them. Logan could pick it out for the subtle windows above the eyeline, but if the Child hadn’t proudly stopped in front of it, Patton totally would have kept walking. 

“We’re here!” The Child held out a hand, waving at everyone to stop while he leaned toward the door. 

Or, rather, the drawing of the door. It was still painted on with what looked like black chalk, but some of the symbols were different. Logan’s eyes trailed over the writing — *A place for solitude.* Still just as encouraging as last time. 

The Child pushed his hand against the big black dot of the handle. As he did, the black chalk began to glow in gold, and he gripped the bark tight. Then, with a slow, gentle movement, he pulled it outward. And out popped a handle. 

Behind them all, the Thief was waiting, glancing at the group and the Child every so often. Logan hadn’t forgotten about him and his posturing. If there were something out in the woods, surely they’d hear it by now, wouldn’t they? Especially if it were truly as monstrous as the Thief were leading them to believe. 

“Here we go.” Logan turned once more to see the Child pull the whole door open. Patton clapped, and the Child mock-bowed. 

“Good job, kid,” the Thief leaned over, grabbing the door. “In you go.”

The Child scrambled in first, Patton following. Janus followed closely after, Virgil in next, and Logan stopped in the doorway. He glanced back at the Thief quickly, noting once more how similar his appearance was to the Child. It must have a reason, hadn’t it? “I thought this was just your house,” he asked. 

He stepped in, following suit with everyone as they took off their shoes. The Child had already kicked his light-up sneakers off and stowed them with the rest of the shoes. There was a coat hanger, too, where it looked like there was only one cloak hanging. While everyone undid their laces, tucked their shoes away, the Thief just unzipped off his boots and stacked them in the corner.

“I got roommates,” the Thief responded after a while, while they were taking off their shoes. “Bard and Child live here permanently. It keeps them safe.”

The last part was added quieter. Virgil glanced at the Child, who only nodded in agreement. “I’m learning a little magic, too! It’s technically creation, I think, but it makes me feel magic. Like a witch. Thief says it’ll be good protection.”

“Like uh. What’s her name—Vi?” Janus asked.

The Child’s response was a vigorous wave of his hands. “Oh, no, Missus Vi’s a lot more dragon and a lot more witch,” he hurried into the kitchen after he threw his cloak onto the coat hanger. “D’ya want anything to drink?”

“Hey! You can sit down, I’ll handle drinks,” the Thief called out. 

The offer demonstrated the routine of this all, at least. The Child knew what the Thief was going to offer. Janus raised an eyebrow and glanced at Logan, who he assumed was making the same connection. Logan shrugged slightly. Neither of them knew who might have been coming over enough for them to develop this routine. Maybe it was none of them, because Patton was also pleasantly surprised, Virgil tucking against the back of the pack, by the now sealed door. There wasn’t even a handle. All magic, huh. 

“You guys can come up the stairs, too. No point just standing in the foyer,” the Thief shouted back down at them. 

Logan sighed. True. 

“Is it just me, or are we feeling corralled?” Virgil mumbled. 

“It’s just you,” Janus responded, and he grit his teeth when Virgil smacked his arm. 

“Fuck you.”

Up there must be better than whatever was brewing down here, Logan decided. And he was the first to walk up the stairs. 

The first time they visited, it was surprisingly home-y in the tree. Logan had only gotten to visit when they first arrived, after the ball, since there were few opportunities to see the Thief and Child outside of that moment. Now, it had somehow become even more homely. On the couch were a few blankets, some freshly disheveled. The Child had just hurried over to one, wrapping himself up with it like a cloak, while the Thief hurried about in the kitchen. His hair was down, black drapery around his shoulders, even though his cloak was hanging downstairs in the foyer. 

“Is this seat taken?” Logan asked the Child, gesturing to the other side of the couch. 

“Nope, go for it,” the Child chirped, still burrowed in his blanket. 

Logan sat, crossing his ankles and leaning back. This was all much more than he’d wanted. He had hoped, similar to Roman, for some solitude. These arguments and his forced silence in them was bearing down hard and when he was alone, at least he got to have first say over himself. But here….

“Hiya, kiddo,” Patton’s voice cut into his thoughts and Logan closed his eyes. 

“Hi, Dad!”

“How’re you doing?”

“‘M doing okay. Eric’s stressed. Everyone’s pretty stressed. I don’t know where Roman went, but….” the Child’s voice trailed off as Virgil and Janus, finally, climbed up the stairs. Logan could hear their thunking steps.

Virgil slowly shuffled off to sit in one of the armchairs. It was big and plush, and enough for him to sprawl his legs over one side to dissuade anyone from coming closer. Janus, similarly, sat on one of the counter’s bar stools. Rather than watch the Thief cook — it looked like he was making actual dinner rather than just drinks — Janus turned toward the living room to listen to the conversation. There was a lot you could learn from eavesdropping. 

At the silence, Logan opened his eyes, drawing attention back toward the crowd. He had to learn, same as everyone else. Whatever thought the Child was having ended as muddled as it began, and the Thief sighed with his own response. “None of us know where he went, or even why he’d go so far from even us. He’s been pissed at everyone lately, it feels like. I’m worried.”

“Does this happen often?” Janus leaned back around toward the counter

Instead of responding, the Thief just glared at Janus. All of these standoffish responses weren’t getting them anywhere. “C’mon, Eric,” Janus leaned a little closer. 

“Shut the fuck up,” the Thief bristled, scowl deepening if it could. “You don’t get to ‘c’mon’ me, like you don’t know what you fucking did.”

“Language!” the Child pipped up, and the Thief’s lip twitched in the faintest of snarls before turning back toward the other side of the counter. 

A tense moment for everyone, even as the Child stared hard at the back of the Thief’s head. There was a power dynamic here. Logan was trying to understand it, but there was something he wasn’t quite grasping in it. 

“Sorry, kid,” the Thief mumbled, his shoulders dropping slowly. 

The Child shrugged, as if the Thief were looking at him, and then he shook his head. “It’s okay. Sorry. You can swear. We’re all worried. But yelling at Mister Deceit isn’t going to bring Roman back.”

The Thief nodded without turning around, and none of the Sides said anything, because what were they supposed to say to that? None of them even shared glances, as if the mere act of looking at each other was going to give something away. 

After a few moments, Patton stood up from his seat on the ground and shuffled into the kitchen. “Need a hand?” he asked. 

After another pause, the Thief responded in a soft, hoarse, “Sure.”

Patton and the Thief worked on cooking, cutting up vegetables for a medley and pan-frying some fish. It was a silent few moments while they worked and while everyone else sat, just thinking. The silence was only broken by the Child hurrying up, Virgil behind him, to offer to make the table. 

While they set the table, there was only more silence. A few quiet quips by Patton while cooking, but otherwise, no one wanted to start conversation. Tensions were high. Even the Child was tense, it seemed, and…Logan realized, his poise reminded him of the Damsel’s, from earlier.  Thinly veiled understanding and anger, held together by what, pure responsibility? That made sense from the Damsel, who posed as the royal figurehead to the group. Why would the Child have the same aura? Interesting.

Other versions of the tension were read differently as well. The Thief’s wording earlier had struck a chord in Janus’ ear and he thought on it some more, while they all sat in silence. ‘He’s been pissed at everyone.’ That’s what the Thief had said. ‘Everyone’ was a lot less specific than just the Sides. Did this exclude himself and the other advisors? Why would Roman be upset at all of them? Or rather, were they upset with him, and the feeling was mutual?

The Child’s eyes were trailing back and forth between the Thief (sitting besides him, eyes pointedly on his plate) and Patton (also looking around, though he gave a shrug when their eyes locked) then Logan (staring ahead with a blank look and eating slow) and Virgil (glancing between the Thief and Janus) before finally landing on Janus himself (watching the Thief). It unnerving at the very best. Everyone was so scared. The Child didn’t know where Roman went but he sure had a hunch that Roman was feeling down, and maybe he wanted some quiet time. Maybe if they all just talked. He didn’t know. 

He’d been especially disappointed by Roman in the latest talk with Thomas, the round table and name reveal and such. It was such a nasty thing to do, to laugh at Janus’ name. And Roman knew it. But he guessed it was fair. Janus had hurt Roman. And Janus…well. The Child didn’t like bullies. Janus had torn Roman’s ego to shreds while trying to claim that he was helping look out for him, and the Child didn’t like the sound of that, he’d told Roman. It was a really complicated situation. The Child was upset with Roman but he was much more upset with Janus. 

The sentiment didn’t seem to help Roman and the Child worried if he was upset with them, the advisors. Because he’d run from even them. 

That sounded like something that was happening, that Roman was being overly critical with himself. The Child wished he were here. He wanted Roman to know that it was going to be okay. That things were tough, but so were they. 

That’s what the Thief said sometimes, whenever the Child was worried, but he didn’t think the Thief really knew how deep those words hit. 

The Thief was the first done eating, and he was quick to put his bowl into the sink. He then just leaned on the side, arms crossed, watching the rest of the table. 

This was all a headache and a half. 

Janus kept watching him. It was unnerving. 

“You doing okay, snake,” he asked, voice hard.

Janus sighed at being called out. “I’m doing just fine, thank you,” he hissed back, casting his eyes back down.

The Thief let out one harsh, “heh,” before the Child interrupted now. 

“You seem really upset.”

“Oh, damn, do I?” the Child’s face fell more at the dripping sarcasm. “Gav, we’re in a real shitshow. I’ve gotta make sure these guys don’t fuck Roman up any more.”

“I don’t think any of us want to do anything anymore to Roman. He’s….we just want to talk about things. Make sure he’s okay,” Patton explained.

The Thief rolled his eyes at that one. 

“Why wouldn’t we?” Virgil put his fork down, standing up with his own plate to put away. “You all keep acting like you’re so surprised that we give a damn. Roman’s important to us, he’s ONE of us.”

“Yeah, well. Should’ve told him that before he ran away,” the Thief said.

“We know he’s important to you all, but he…well. Egos need to be fed, you know,” the Child pushed his plate forward as he spoke, then curled back into his seat, picking at the fabric of his cargo pants. “Everyone’s all about not letting Roman’s ego get too big, but he is ego. And…I don’t know. Mister Deceit used him. He’s hurt.”

“Roman dug his grave. Likethe rest of you schmucks,” the Thief approached slowly, picking the Child’s plate up. 

He grabbed Virgil’s and Logan’s as well, Virgil’s while he was still standing. They stared at each other for a moment, Virgil trying to understand what was such a threat here. The Thief was wondering the same. 

The stare-off lasted only a moment, though, before the Thief sighed and put the dishes into the sink. There was no use fighting. They were all too stubborn to accept that they might be wrong. And that’s their problem, not the Thief’s. 

“Sit tight and wait. We don’t go back to the castle until we hear from Bard that they’ve found him or are coming up empty,” the Thief said. 

In their own ways, everyone was discontent with that. Virgil especially sat back down at his seat at the table, gripping the actual seat part with tight nails. It didn’t feel good to just be waiting like this. He knew that Roman wasn’t splitting again but something sure was telling him that something was happening. It was just a bad feeling. He got those a lot. 

Hilariously, the one who spoke up was the Child. He leveled a glare at the Thief and said, “We all could be looking for him.”

The Thief sighed. It sounded like a common argument, but this was the only time Roman’s gone missing, from everyone else’s memory. 

Logan leaned forward on both hands, crossing them on the table. He was intrigued by their relationship already. He wanted to see how this conversation would play out.

“I can’t. You can’t. I need to stay here and watch these bozos,” the Thief gestured to the table, and Patton piped up with a, “Hey!”

“I could help. You know I could,” the Child argued back. 

“I’m not letting you get in harm’s way, Gavin.”

“But you KNOW I can fight! And-And you’ve been helping me get better. Roman’s going to need all of us supporting him, when we find him,” the Child stood up, hands opening and closing at his sides. 

“Kiddo,” Patton’s voice was soft, cutting in while the Thief glared and tried to think of what to say. “Maybe…I think Eric’s right. When the search party finds him will be a better time to talk with him, right? That’ll mean everyone’s there.”

The Child whirled on Patton, brows furrowed. It looked like anger. Or fear. 

Logan squinted a little. Did the Child know anything? He seemed so self-assured about what was happening and what Roman needed.

“But-But didn’t the Playwright already go after him? And then whatever…Wherever Roman is hurt the Playwright. Right?” he turned back to the Thief. 

“And that’s exactly why you’re not going out. Because if it took down the Playwright, it’ll take down you too—“

“But he was alone! If we all go together—“

“Gavin,” the Child took a step back, flinching from the Thief’s tone. “I’m not arguing about this with you. You heard the Damsel, too. We stay here.”

The standoff ended in silence, both parts of Roman glaring at each other with a lack of understanding. To Janus, it spoke even more to how disjointed Roman must be feeling. After all, it’s not very good when the parts of yourself argue so much. As well as he loves a good spirited argument and battle of wits, this is far from it. 

He stayed quiet, like the rest of them, but the sound of breathing caught his attention. Janus’ eyes slowly slid to the side and he noticed Virgil, tense as a coiled spring, hunched over the table. Immediately, on an instinct, Janus stood. 

“Virgil?” he asked.

That drew the attention of the other two, who had also been preoccupied watching the argument. The Child stepped further away from the table as Janus hurried around, putting a gentle hand on Virgil’s back. 

The raised voices. The stress of it all. 

The Playwright had been hurt. Roman was hurting himself again through this stupid self-insert situation.

They’d let Roman get hurt. Again.

The Thief’s anxiety was enough to fill the room and then some, and just feeling it was making Virgil nauseous. He dragged his fingers through his hair and took a slow, deep breath. Trying to not hear the echo of shouting. 

Fuck.

“Virgil, dear,” Janus tried again, voice soft as a cushion.

Virgil jerked his shoulder away from Janus, choking out, “I’m fine.”

“Virge, here. Breathe with me. Like the thing Logan taught you,” Patton was knelt besides him. He felt Patton’s hand on his knee.

He could hear Patton breathing. It was on pace, 6 in, 7 hold, 8 out, something they’d done before. A variation on something they’ve done in a video, similar to something they’ve done in general. The numbers switched sometimes, since Patton wasn’t all that on details like this, but…it still worked.

Virgil closed his eyes and breathed. And kept breathing. 

He reached down and grabbed Patton’s hand. He squeezed tight as could be, and he hoped it didn’t hurt, but it more than likely did. But he was breathing. 

Patton out a hand on Virgil’s other shoulder to steady him, watching the top of his head as they breathed together. While they were all together, Patton had done his best to figure out what would help calm everyone down. That’s part of why he was so scared of Roman being alone, you know! He liked venting. When Roman was upset, he liked finding people he wasn’t upset with and staying with them until he could get it off his chest. Janus was the one who liked space. And he got enough space that he became distant. 

Virgil needed support, a hand to hold, someone to lean on, and then rest. Someone to lead the breathing so he could follow. He was brave on his own right and in his own time but in managing emotions? Walking the tightrope between them? That’s where Patton’s breathing came in. 

After a few minutes of quiet, breathing (Logan’s pretty sure the Thief was also following, as he had leaned back and was staring at the ceiling, quietly breathing as well), Patton leaned back. Virgil patted Patton’s other shoulder, tiredly staring at the table. It always seemed to suck energy, when he got into a state. They tried to prevent him getting there in the first place but when he got there, it took a lot out of him. And he likely was trying to siphon some more of the panic and fear out of everyone else. That sounded about right. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Thanks Patt.”

“No problemo, Virgil,” Patton chirped.

Janus looked around at the walls for a clock, to see what time it might be, but the Thief was ahead of him. “That’s enough for the night, I guess. Plates in the sink. I’ll handle it. The rest of you, you know where my guest bedrooms are.”

And that was that, it seemed. Everyone put their plates away, the Thief told Virgil specifically to get a good rest, told everyone else to sleep well, and they quietly made their ways toward the hall of bedrooms. It was nestled beneath another stairwell, one that went down, and no one really wanted to talk to each other. Patton wished everyone a “sweet dreams” and that was that.

The Thief did the dishes, quietly, quickly. It didn’t register that it might have been too quiet until he was done. 

Janus and Logan were both still awake. Virgil had knocked out and Patton was halfway there, too tired to hear the scrambling upstairs. 

“Gavin?”

A box being shut, a door being quickly closed. The pounding of feet running up another set of stairs, to the third floor, where the Tree’s master bedroom was.

“Gavin, are you up here?”

Logan closed his book first, hurrying out in his blue pajamas. His feet were cold on the stairs. Something was cold in his stomach too. The moment of realization, perhaps.

He met the Thief on the ground floor, Janus behind him, and the Thief’s eyes were wide with fear. His dark black hair was covering his shoulders and chest, blending in with his cloak as he moved like a shadow past them toward the front door. 

“What happened?” Janus hissed, grabbing Logan’s arm.

Logan grabbed him back, squeezing tight. They both knew, as the Thief threw open the front door and ran outside with a shout. 

“GAVIN?!”

#more than beliefs #lets mf goooooo #sanders sides #sanders sides au #sanders sides fic #tss fic #tss #tss roman #sanders sides roman #throwing this in there LOL #sanders sides janus #sanders sides virgil #sanders sides patton #sanders sides logan #guess ill throw this in all the big tags bc i always forget LOL

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Words: 8,968 Warnings: Arguing, Bickering, Threats (empty), Self-Doubt, Self-Denial, Questioning/Denying Systemhood, Implied Fake-Claiming (and minor fallout from but it is quickly handled), Derogatory Language, Alcohol (wine), Food (mentions of quesitonable food combos as well). [They’re passing/minor, and the sections are easy to skip if any of the parts are concerning.] Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Logan, Patton, Remus Ships: Genfic Genre: Contemporary (Humor/Angst) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Thomas is the Being that Only Exists in Concept Instead of the Sides, Thomas is a Mask, Multiplicity/Plurality, Median System, Humour, Angst also occurs, so does some hurt/comfort, no plot, just stupid for the most part, silly

Thomas doesn't exactly exist. He's a person, sure, and he's real and walking around in a body and has a job, friends, and a life. But... He's actually just the mask of six gremlins in a trench coat who have strong opinions about almost everything "Thomas" does. This is a couple of scenes from "Thomas's" life, from the inside.

#tsss #tss #sanders sides #tss fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #tsss fanfic #tss fic #SaSi fic #SaSi #ayri writes #i'm not ayri you're not getting it copied over click it #it's just supposed to be silly #have fun or go away my dudes #median system #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remus #ts patton #ts logan #ts janus #ayri made a cute little linebreak for it #check it out