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blogging-time · 5 years ago

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Mealybugs

Send me a random word and I will attempt to write a Hurt/Comfort Fic containing/based on it. My Fic Masterlist

Word: Sick - Submitted by @3amthebitchinghour!

Summary: Roman couldn’t deny the fact that he’d found Patton’s seemingly unjustified concern to be somewhat endearing at first... but now things were quickly getting out of hand...

If only Roman had known why Patton felt so protective over him, it could have saved the pair oh-so much heartache.

Warnings: Mild illness/fever. Very brief Remus mention.

Pairings: Platonic Royality. (Can be interpreted as romantic.)

Word Count: 3,595

~ ~ ~

Roman couldn’t deny the fact that he’d found Patton’s seemingly unjustified concern to be somewhat endearing at first. Despite his well-sown fear of appearing both feeble and childish, there was just something about the dad Side’s ever-blossoming kindness that chipped away at the prince’s protective thorns until he was nothing more than a delicate collection of crimson rose petals in the botanist’s careful hands.

Perhaps to Patton, Roman was little more than a single clipped rose, powerless to fight off the tender love and care that he had deemed the prince beautiful enough to be deserving of. Still, Roman had enjoyed every last moment he’d spent simply being a part of his friend’s heavenly garden. Every day he’d let his roots embed themselves further and further into the soil until there was seemingly no moving him, and every day his friend would come by to perform his routine check-up.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you flourishing, kiddo!” his friend would chirp with a carefree smile.

But even the most attentive of botanists will one day see their flowers wilt. Even the most well-tended gardens can become victims of disease. And when this happens, perhaps one of the worst things you can possibly do for an already suffering rose is overwater it.

In the beginning, the whole thing had seemed as innocent as a timid field mouse cautiously poking its head up to greet the cold evening breeze. True, you typically wouldn’t want to see any type of rodent rummaging around in your garden, but there had just been something so careful and genuine in Patton’s eyes that had made the man seem far sweeter than any succulent berry he could possibly steal away.

Besides, Patton had been Roman’s faithful botanist, not some common thief. The prince knew there was nothing in this world that his friend would intentionally deprive him of. However, the intention doesn’t always match the outcome, and one simple observation was all it took to set off a rather unfortunate series of events.

~ ~ ~

“Oh, kiddo… you’re sick,” Patton had commented, concern dripping from his voice like melted ice-cream.

“Oh, Padre, you’re too kind,” Roman had joked back, hoping against all odds that he could bury the dad Side’s concern with his quick wit.

But Patton’s heart was not so easily satisfied.

“What in Thomas’ name do you think you’re doing out of bed? You should be resting.”

The prince sighed before answering, “It’s just a passing cold, Patty-cakes. There’s no need for you to be getting your buns in such a twist.”

“You leave my buns out of this, little mister,” Patton countered, taking a step forward and gently placing his hand on the ill man’s already damp forehead.

Looking back, perhaps the moment Roman instinctively let himself melt into the touch of the moral Side’s cool hand was the moment he’d sealed his fate.

The botanist’s persistent supervision began not long after that.

~ ~ ~

It had all started with a humble offering of chicken soup.

“Now you just lie here, Roman, and I’ll serve you up one of my very own Patton-patented pawsitively palatable poultry plates in just one moment!”

“Now look who’s paid a visit to the alliteration station!”

Then came the many cutesy looking coffee mugs, almost all of which contained some different variation of Healthline’s ‘Top 10 Healthiest Herbal Teas You Just Have to Try!’

“As the wise Uncle Iroh once said: Sharing tea with a fascinating stranger is one of life’s true delights!”

“Padre… we’ve known each other for almost thirty years.”

“And yet this dashing prince simply never fails to fascinate me!”

And who could forget all of those simple yet tedious everyday tasks that Patton had offered to fulfil in Roman’s steed?

“Oh, most sweet and noble knight of mine… are you absolutely certain that this quest I have assigned to you won’t prove itself far too time-consuming or demanding?”

The moral Side chuckled faintly at that.

“My liege, I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll see to it that Master Thomas gets his chance to rehearse this afternoon, and that the last of the required props are picked up from Ye Olde Hobby Lobby in plenty of time for supper!”

“You have my eternal gratitude.”

“And you, my tissues.”

One could easily argue that the feverish prince had been entirely too willing to comply with the botanist’s generous wishes during those first two days, but how was he to know just how overbearing his friend would become over the course of the next seventy-two hours?

It had all started with Patton’s refusal to let Roman prepare his own toast.

“It’s just a simple slice of toast, Doctor Ramsay,” Roman bantered, “And if it’s any consolation I’ll promise not to cut the bread with my sword this time – Prince’s Honour!”

“Kiddo, you shouldn’t be handling food at all while you’re not well; that’s how you end up spreading germs.”

“To whom? Myself?”

“You never know, Roman. Please… just leave all of the cooking to me for now. I can have everything done within five minutes.”

Then came the many unnecessary yet incessant visits to Roman’s room that Patton would make throughout the day.

“Knock, knock!”

“Oh, I wonder who could possibly be there?” Roman drawled.

Patton giggled weakly at that.

“Just your happy-chappy pappy checking up on someone sappy!”

“Somehow I don’t think I’m the sappy one here, Patton.”

And how could Roman ever overlook the fact that he’d practically been put on strict bedrest for multiple days when there were so many other things he’d rather be doing to elevate his growing boredom?

“Listen, nurse… I understand you’re just trying to look out for me, but I can’t see any good reason as to why I shouldn’t be allowed to go and play ‘Mario Kart’ with the court jester. I feel like I’ve done nothing these past few days, and besides, my temperature barely even meets the criteria for a fever anymore.”

“First of all, we’ve already spoken about you referring to Virgil as the ‘court jester.’ Second of all, the reason your health has been improving is because you’ve taken the time to do nothing. Thirdly, Roman you’re far too competitive to be playing videogames right now. You’ll just end up psyching yourself up too much and making your headache so much worse.”

The prince had done his best to tolerate this sort of treatment for five whole days before allowing himself to finally admit the obvious: Patton wasn’t his knight in shining armour; he was the dragon-witch responsible for keeping him locked up in a tower.

He knew confrontation was inevitable if he wanted to see the outside world again anytime soon - Too long now had he been kept inside of a restrictive vase as opposed to an open flowerbed. Still, going into the discussion, Roman had downright dreaded dealing with the resistance he would surely be met with from his fellow Side. Of course, he knew the moral Side would never be mad at him for standing his ground, but if he didn’t want his friend to worry then he felt he’d still have to prepare a solid rebuttal.

The creative Side had braced himself for his moral counterpart’s troubling frown. He’d fully anticipated his friend’s most frequently recycled justifications and prepared what he considered to be an adequate counterargument for each. Heck, the prince had even taken the liberty of preparing an evidence casefile should the dad Side ever demand to see proof of his ongoing recovery.

“Behold! The piece of evidence that clearly contradicts the witness’ testimony!” Roman rehearsed, finger pointing rather dramatically at his bedroom mirror, “If you take a good look at this thermometer, you’ll see that my temperature read as 98.6F this morning. Mr Sanders, you claimed I couldn’t leave the room for as long as I have a fever, but this device clearly shows I now have a perfectly normal body temperature!”

Undoubtedly Roman had done enough preparation to ensure that even a man as tight-lipped as Logan couldn’t help but feel proud of his work. If only history had been kind enough to repeat itself, then perhaps the creative Side could have even found himself standing in the middle of another ‘Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fic’ type situation.

However, there had been one rather unfortunate series of developments that the prince had not fully fortified himself for – one that had proven itself to be far more regrettable than unlikely, and one that the prince would have no choice but to embrace as he failed to sway the conversation back in his favour.

For within mere minutes of opening his carefully planned, well-constructed and adequately researched argument, both the poor over-watered wilting rose, and his apparently not-so-attentive botanist had completely abandoned their cool demeanours in exchange for a far more contentious persona.

“Roman, please, just be reasonable,” the dad Side pleaded, arms outstretched in a halting motion as he took yet another step back towards Roman’s doorway.

“Oh, my stars!” the aforementioned Side proclaimed incredulously, “Do my ears deceive me? Or is that truly ‘The Hypocrite of the West Coast’ sincerely asking me to be more reasonable?”

Had the man standing before the prince been anyone but his favourite fatherly figure, then surely he would have pressed him on the long sigh he just let out.

“Kiddo, I understand why you’re upset, but you know I’d never try to deter you like this if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary. I hate seeing you cooped up in here just as much as you do!”

“Then why won’t you set me free?”

“Because I believe-”

“Oh yes, because you believe it’s the right thing to do, don’t you? That’s always what it seems to come down to at the end of the day! Everything in the entire Thomas-sphere has to revolve around what Morality thinks is right and wrong! Honestly, what have the rest of us ever done to deserve a seat at the table?”

The moral Side’s entire body seemed to tense at that, his breath hitching as though he were trying to force some unsavoury words back down his own agitated throat. Tears were now threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes, yet his gaze remained almost perfectly fixed.

“Roman…”

“No! I don’t want to hear it, Pat! I’m sick and tired of listening to what you have to say!”

“You’re sick and tired, full stop, Roman! Please, you should really just go back to bed while I-”

“While you do what, Patton? Are you planning on tucking me back into bed again? Perhaps you could infantilise me even further by reading me another bedtime story, or- Oh! I know! Why don’t you go and prepare me yet another bowl of your infamous chicken soup? I’m not sure the first couple-hundred bowls have made me entirely anti-poultry yet!”

Undoubtedly, hunched up shoulders and pointedly narrowed eyes weren’t a particularly good look on the usually oh-so-cheery dad Side, but he simply couldn’t help the fact that his composure was shrivelling up so fast.

“If you really want to get me out of your hair so badly, then why won’t you just let me take care of you? The sooner I can get you healthy again, the sooner I can leave you to your own devices!”

“Because it’s not your job to take care of me, padre!” the prince snapped back, this time sounding utterly exasperated. “I’m not some delicate little flower that you should feel obligated to attend to! You’re not my designated botanist! You… You know what you are? What you really are, Pat? You’re just some aggravating little mealybug that’s latched onto my leaves that now adamantly refuses to let go! You’re sucking the life out of me, Pat, and it’s causing me to wilt! How on Earth do you expect me to stand it?”

With those words, the last of the moral Side’s composure finally slipped away.

“I don’t know, Roman! How do you expect me to cope with losing Creativity again?”

The words had come barrelling out of his mouth before he could even think to stop himself, and the tears don’t fall too far behind.

The room fell completely silent in an instant, bar the sound of the dad Side’s sombre hiccups.

Try as Patton might, he genuinely couldn’t help the feeling that he was being cruelly suffocated and torn apart from the inside. It felt as though someone had forced him to swallow an entire packet of dandelion seeds, and now the unwelcome plant was blooming, stems sprouting painfully from the pit of his stomach before forcing its way up through his throat, and finally bursting out dramatically from his silently screaming mouth. It seemed that no matter how hard the botanist had tried to suppress this unruly weed, the truth was always destined to come to light in some horrific way.

“Patton…?” Roman hesitantly asked, his previous shouting voice having been replaced by an almost-whisper.

The man in question only let a single choked sob escape before continuing to speak…

“…He was just like you, you know…” he blurted out, voice sounding unnaturally strained from trying to suppress his own emotions. His eyes were now utterly transfixed on the floor, almost as if he were willing it to magically open up and swallow him whole.

The prince audibly gulped as he mentally prepared himself for the question he’d inevitably have to ask, regardless of whether or not he already knew the answer.

“Who was, Pat?”

Another choked sob escaped; this time followed by a long, shaky, uneven breath. The question seemed to hang in the air far too uncomfortably for far too long as one Side watched the other pathetically curl in on himself.

“The King,” Patton eventually rasped out, words slicing through the tension in the air so swiftly and so grotesquely they almost seemed to mimic the actions of a rusty lawn mower blade.

Roman could practically hear the machine whirring around inside his head.

“He told us all it was just a cold – That he’d be perfectly fine if we just left him alone for a few hours…”

“Patton…”

“He told us all to just go out and play… He promised us he’d come and join us as soon as he was feeling better… At the time none of us even realised that would be our last chance to run around in the garden together… Our last chance to marvel at the early Spring flowers together… Our last chance to weave intricate little flower crowns together with the King… and so we missed it… We missed our final chance to say ‘goodbye’ and then he was just… gone…”

As the well finally overflooded, allowing for two long streams to suddenly pour down the older Side’s fiercely flushed face, the young prince swore he could feel his own still beating heart immediately split in two.

“Patton,” he tried again, “Surely you don’t blame yourself for any of that. I highly doubt there’s anything you could have done to prevent such a fate from befalling the old Creativity – and even if there had have been, you couldn’t have possibly known any better!”

“I could have been by his side!” Patton snapped back, punctuating his words by gripping his upper arms even tighter. “I knew one of my friends was sick and I did nothing to help him! Worse than that, Roman, I left him alone to play hopscotch.”

“Darling, it’s not your fault for having such faith in an old friend. He was the one who told you to give him some space! You were only doing what was asked of you!”

A sudden wave of realisation swiftly struck down the prince’s confidence the moment he heard those words aloud.

“Oh, my dear little heart…” he cooed as he watched his shaking friend visibly shrink. “I’m so sorry, Pat… I didn’t mean to-”

“No… No, you don’t have anything to apologise for…” Patton sniffled as he tried to stand up properly. “I… I understand I may have been a bit… overbearing these past few days, but I…” He was getting choked up again. “I… I just couldn’t risk losing Creativity again… I couldn’t risk losing you. I love you so much, kiddo, and I genuinely don’t know what I would do if I ever-”

Roman decided to silence that oncoming tangent by abruptly pulling his spiralling friend into a warm embrace. Perhaps the experience would have been a little more pleasant had his own body not decided to start trembling mere moments ago, but none of that seemed to matter as the dad Side slowly melted into his soothing touch.

“Do you want me to let you in on a special little secret, padre?”

The dad Side merely nodded his response into the crook of the prince’s neck, causing the slightly calmer man to let out a faint chuckle.

“The truth is… when I first appeared here in the mindscape, I really didn’t know much at all about… well… anything! Sure, I had a decent enough hold on what sort of things inspired Thomas, what stories he wanted to tell and how he wanted to go about telling them… but when it came to Thomas’ internal ‘Breakfast Club’ I was almost completely at a loss! By all accounts your quizzical looks should have made me feel like a Roman gladiator thrown haphazardly into a colosseum without so much as a broken stick to defend myself!”

“I’m sorry if any of us startled you…” came a muffled response.

“But that’s the thing, Pat,” Roman recounted with a kind smile, “None of you ever did… In fact, from the very first moment I ever laid my dazzling eyes upon all of your startled yet adorable – if not slightly nerdy – faces, I honestly never felt anything but… safe, secure… welcome, even! Now I know that may not make much sense at first given how little I actually knew you all at the time, but I happen to have my own little working theory as to why I felt that way. Would you like me to share it with you?”

That question was apparently enough to make the dad Side look up from where he had been nuzzling his tear-soaked face into his friend’s now admittedly rather damp shoulder. The sight of his puffy eyes alone was enough to make Roman want to tear off his own crimson rose petals and use them as an overly extravagant tissue on the botanist’s grief-stricken visage.

Alas, a small piece of his velvety sash would have to suffice for now.

“Please,” Patton tentatively begged as the prince carefully wiped away at his cheeks.

“I reckon it’s because the Creativity you once knew never truly left. Even if I didn’t maintain the vast majority of his memories, I vehemently believe that all of those otherwise inexplicable feelings were the by-product of him having once loved all of you. He never felt betrayed… He never felt lonely… He never felt as though you let him down, padre, because it’s abundantly clear didn’t.”

“But how can you be so sure his feelings never changed?”

“I don’t know, my own little Patton-ted Piglet… How can you be so sure they ever did?”

Something in the moral Side’s expression seemed to change in that moment… Something subtle yet unmistakable that let Roman know he’d finally gotten through to the man.

It was only a matter of time before a contented smile had taken place on both of their blushing faces.

“I suppose I never really thought of it that way…” Patton sheepishly admitted.

“Yet you’d dare to entertain the thought that your dashing prince would ever leave you?”

The creative Side had fully intended for his sentiment to come across as light-hearted. Rather unfortunately for him, it appeared his words only served to make the dad Side feel more guilty.

“I’m sorry for blowing up at you like that earlier, kiddo… and I’m sorry if my paranoia ever made me act unfairly towards you… I guess I just let my parental instincts get the better of me sometimes…”

“I’ll consider it all water under the bridge so long as you promise not to tell Teach I had to take a leaf out of his book today,” Roman joked, earning a stifled burst of heartfelt giggling from his now slightly more chipper and upbeat friend.

When the laughter eventually subsided, the dad Side decided to take a step back and get a better look at Roman, consequently breaking the embrace as he did so.

“I can’t tell if you acting all logical is supposed to be a sign that your health is improving or deteriorating,” he playfully teased.

“Well whichever one of the two it is, I just hope all of this exposure you’ve had to my sorry-self over these past few days hasn’t been enough to infect you.”

“Oh, Roman, I hate to tell you this, but I was already sick,” Patton merrily admitted after only a brief pause.

“What?” the prince dramatically exclaimed, voice suddenly sounding perturbed. “Oh, padre… Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well? We need to get you tucked into bed with some medicine and a bowl of chicken soup right away!”

Although Morality had tried to contain their mildly inappropriate giggling, he simply couldn’t help but be amused by the irony behind Creativity’s words.

“I’m afraid there won’t be any need for that,” he giddily reassured, “After all, doctors say there’s still no known cure for love-sickness!”

~ ~ ~

General Tag-List:

@lunamay2006, @not-so-innocent-bi-sander, @saphael-malec102, @anastasialestina

Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic, so this tag-list may be a little outdated. If at any point you want to be added/removed from my tag-list then feel free to let me know!

Secondary Note: I may come back and edit the ending a little at a later date. This fic had been sitting in my WIP’s for far too long, so I’m worried it may have come across as rushed due to the fact I really wanted it to be completed.

As always, feedback is much appreciated! I was very out of practice and sleep-deprived here, so I’m sure I’d benefit a lot from constructive criticism! I hope you’re all having a fan-der-tastic day!

#Thomas Sanders #Sanders Sides #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Royality #Platonic Royality #My Fic #Reblogs > Likes

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gaylotusthatexists · 6 years ago

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Flightless - Chapter One

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Moxiety (in later chapters), Platonic Analogical

Description: It wasn't as if Virgil couldn't fly. He was actually a pretty good flyer. The best in his class, he was constantly being told. That was probably more the fear of falling and dying, or the fear of failing the class, than actual skill, but it was still something. He was a careful flyer. And fast. Safe and efficient. So, if he really wanted to, Virgil could fly anywhere, no problem.

Except, sometimes his wings would just... refuse to work. If Virgil was feeling particularly upset, or anxious, or... generally overwhelmed, his wings would just, kind of, close in on themselves. It was almost as if they would grow smaller. And then they wouldn't move, and Virgil would just be stuck with a useless clump of feathers on his back until he dealt with the problem at hand and they decided to be nice again.

Today was one of those days.

Word Count: 1723

Trigger Warnings: None that I can think off for this chapter, but let me know if there is anything.

Tag List: @trash-can-so-do-i asked to be tagged in this, so here you go. Also tagging @xx-fandom-potato-xx and @pinkaestheticbullshit as they both liked the post, but feel free to ask to not be tagged.

next | ao3

Virgil pulled his hood up over his head as he walked down the empty street. He buried his hands in his pockets and looked down at the pavement, trying his best to not attract any attention. He had left his earphones at home - stupid, stupid, stupid - and in turn had been searching for an excuse to not interact with any humans for the entire day.

That wasn't much of a problem, though. There was hardly anybody out on the streets to ruin his life. Not because it wasn't busy - it was actually extremely busy, way more people out that unusual - but because the majority of people living in the city flew everywhere. It was easier, Virgil realised. Less effort than walking. Cheaper than public transport. Definitely cheaper than driving themselves. And when everybody - or mostly everybody, at least - had a perfectly good pair of wings on their back, it was just the norm.

But Virgil choose to walk anyway. He enjoyed walking, for one. It was peaceful. Calming. For him, at least. And, on that particular day, Virgil's wing would just not cooperate with him.

It wasn't as if Virgil couldn't fly. He was actually a pretty good flyer. The best in his class, he was constantly being told. That was probably more the fear of falling and dying, or the fear of failing the class, than actual skill, but it was still something. He was a careful flyer. And fast. Safe and efficient. So, if he really wanted to, Virgil could fly anywhere, no problem.

Today was one of those days.

Virgil wasn't entirely sure what the problem was, either. Or, at least, he had an idea, several ideas, but... he didn't know. Which was possibly even worse than knowing and having to actually deal with the problem. He had no way to fix it, no way to get his wings to come back.

Maybe his wings were just being stubborn. He must have done something to offend them. He wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case.

"Hey," a voice called from behind him.

He froze. Was... Was the person speaking to him? There was nobody else around, so that would make sense, but...

"Hello?" That was the voice again. "Are you okay?" Definitely speaking to him.

His mind was screaming at him to continue walking, to walk faster, to run if he needed to. His wings seemed to be threatening to completely fall off. He didn't recognise the voice, meaning this was a stranger, and he hated speaking to strangers. God, why had he forgotten his earphones on that day, of all days?

Still, he turned around. His wings calmed down, loosening up a little underneath the hoodie. Maybe they had tensed up before at the thought of Virgil not talking to this person? Or maybe not. Virgil never understood what his wings were trying to tell him.

"Hi," the person greeted, for the third time. They were shorter than Virgil, and younger, he was pretty sure. Probably in their teenage years - Virgil had just recently turned twenty. He figured they were around seventeen or eighteen. Their hair had been dyed a mixture of blue and pink, which Virgil thought looked pretty cool. And they didn't look to threatening, at least.

But one huge detail that Virgil noticed was that they didn't have any wings.

Of course, they could have been hidden like Virgil's, but considering what the person was wearing... He didn't think that was it.

Virgil forced out a smile. "Do I know you?"

They shook their head. "No. I've just, uh..." They drifted off, staring at Virgil, as if they had only just realised the situation they were in. "I'm Talyn, by the way," they introduced, holding out their hand to shake.

Virgil didn't take it. "Virgil."

Talyn nodded, and brought their arm back down to their side. "Anyway, Virgil, I just... I've seen you walking around and stuff, and couldn't help but wonder about your wings? 'Cause, like, as you can see..."

He nodded. "Yeah. No wings. I got it."

They smiled. "So, uh, is it the same for you?"

Virgil shook his head. "No. I, uh, they do exist. I just prefer walking." Not a lie, but not the full truth. He didn't want to tell this stranger about the problem with his wings.

"Oh." Talyn suddenly looked disappointed. "Okay. That's... cool."

"Yeah, um..." Virgil looked to the side. "I should probably go. I'm meant to be meeting up with someone." Again, not a lie. He was supposed to be meeting up with someone later that day. Not for a few hours, though. He just really wanted to get out of there.

"That's fine, I don't want to intrude on your life or anything," Talyn said, smiling. "It was nice to meet you, at least."

Virgil smiled back. A genuine smile, this time. "Y-you too. I, uh, might see you around some time."

They nodded. "Yup! See ya, Virgil!" They gave him a small wave, before turning around and walking in the opposite direction.

Virgil let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. That was over, at least. He still had a few hours of free time before meeting up with his... with his friend? Did he count as a friend? They had never actually spoken in real life, so... probably not. They didn't even know each other. They had just emailed a few times, and figured it would be best to meet up before they moved in together in a few weeks time.

God, he would be moving out in a few weeks time! And he would be moving in with someone who was basically a complete stranger. Like, he knew this person was safe, and all. His friend, Logan, was friends with this person. That was how Virgil found out about him. Virgil had needed a place to stay, and Logan's friend had been looking for someone to share his apartment. Logan had recommended Virgil, and... he supposed that was happening now.

Logan had said a few times that this person had struggled to find someone willing to share an apartment with him. Virgil hadn't been told any details on this, though. And from talking to him via email, he honestly didn't seem like a bad guy. In Virgil's opinion, anyone would be lucky to have this guy in their life. He was just so... positive, all the time. Everything he had said had managed to bring a smile to Virgil's face, which was hard to do.

Then again, Virgil had yet to meet this guy in real life. Maybe he was a completely different person than he was behind the screen. And Virgil couldn't help but feel nervous over meeting him.

Maybe that was why his wings refused to worked. From the anxiety over meeting basically a complete stranger that he would be living with for the foreseeable future. Great.

But he didn't have to be thinking about that right now. That wouldn't stop him from thinking, of course, but he knew that he needed to do something to take his mind off the entire situation. Music usually helped. It was just Virgil's luck that he didn't have his earphones with him that day. He didn't feel like walking the long way home, just to have to walk back into the city centre ready for the meetup.

The two had decided upon meeting in a small coffee shop near the park, almost in the exact middle of the city. They figured that meeting in a public place would be best. And coffee was always tempting. But that also meant that Virgil had to walk from the outskirts of the city all the way to the centre. Since he couldn't fly on that particular day (again, just his luck), he had had to take the hour-long walk there.

And of course he had gotten anxious about being late, and arrived in the city way to early. For the past hour or so, he had just been wandering around the streets, waiting.

Virgil felt a buzz in his pocket. He pulled out his phone, and glanced at the message.

13:23 Logan: Are you still meeting up with Patton today?

It took him a moment to figure out who he was talking about. Patton... the guy he would be living with. That was his name. Virgil quickly typed out a response.

13:23 Virgil: yup. at three.

He put his phone away and continued walking, before feeling another buzz. Sighing, he pulled it back out.

13:24 Logan: Are you in the city?

13:24 Virgil: yeah. by the church.

13:25 Logan: Would you be able to meet up with me for an hour or so? I have a problem with my wings.

Virgil hesitated. He... did need an distraction. And hanging with Logan was the best distraction there could be. Logan was his best friend. His... only friend, really. And Logan was always asking for help with his wings - Virgil knew exactly what he needed. It wouldn't take more than fifteen minutes. Ten minutes to walk there. Five minutes introduction. Half an hour hanging out after fixing the wings. Then it would almost be time to go to Patton. That would help ease his anxiety, at least.

13:27 Virgil: sure. i'll be there in ten.

13:27 Logan: It's only a two minute flight, Virgil.

13:27 Virgil: bad day.

Logan would know what that meant.

13:28 Logan: Ah. Understood. See you later.

13:28 Virgil: see ya.

No questions asked. Thank God. Although, he did presume that Logan would ask a million questions once he arrived. Virgil wasn't planning on answering any of them.

But he didn't have to worry about that right now. He had to keep telling himself to not worry about it. He began the journey to Logan's apartment.

Thank you so much for reading guys! I hope y’all enjoyed this, I had so much fun writing it. Feel free to ask to be added to the taglist for the next chapter. See ya!

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #winged!au #winged!sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #talyn #my fanfiction #my fanfic #my writing #flightless

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corystssides · 7 years ago

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Bottled, Part 6

Words: 3823

Summary: They’re finally free, but there’s still questions needing answering and discussions to be had.

Warnings: mild descriptions of injury care, mild verbal arguments, some yelling

Tags: @yep-another-fander, @softlogic, @tssanderssidestrash, @literallylogic, @diplomatic-arsonist, @saltequeen, @fallingineternity, @satisfied-sanders-sides, @vixenneko, @the-strange-universe-of-cake, @fangirlfiles1, @winds-and-stardust, @the-laarmy, @pfftwhatnoimhuman, @gaysaxaphone, @mira-jadeamethyst, @frustratedwaffle

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Roman had just gotten his hands on a small bottle of healing potion when Patton summoned him to his house.

“Seriously?!” he asked, stumbling into the living room--and into Anxiety.

“Wow, now that I see you in the light, you look like a trainwreck,” Anxiety said.

Roman scowled. “At least I don’t look like a Hot Topic threw up on me.” He pushed himself away from Anxiety and started walking toward the bathroom to take care of his injuries.

“You need to borrow a pair of pants?” Patton asked. “Yours are kinda ruined.”

“Thanks, Patton,” Roman said.

Patton ran off to his room to get a pair of pants while Roman headed for the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and started running the faucet in the bathtub, waiting for it to warm up. Patton knocked and then opened the door just enough to set the pants on the floor, then shut the door and walked away. Roman started undressing the wound, using the warm water to get the sticky blood to let go of the fabric. He got the sash off of his leg first, sighing as he saw its condition. He’d never get the stains out of it. He tossed it aside. The pant leg took more work, and Roman had to be more gentle with it. Finally, he got it all disconnected from his leg, and went to work with the healing potion. Once that was done, he looked himself over for any other injuries. He found several small cuts on his arms that he hadn’t noticed before, and nearly cried over the bloodstains on his white tunic. He knew it didn’t matter, he knew he had others just like it at home in the palace, but it had been a long awful day (days? He still wasn’t sure) and this was the cherry on top. Frustrated, he took off the tunic, so he was standing only in an undershirt and his soaked, ripped pants. Not only were there cuts, there were also dark, banded bruises all over his arms--and when he pulled up his undershirt, his torso, too. For a moment, he was confused, because he didn’t think he tied the ropes that tight when he was on the staircase. Then he remembered the Seed of Doubt, and everything made sense. He regretted using all of the healing potion on his leg.

With a sigh, he searched Patton’s bathroom for bandaids. The only ones he found were brightly colored Steven Universe ones, obviously meant for the kids’ enjoyment. He stuck them on to cover the cuts anyway. He thought about putting his tunic back on, but decided against it, not wanting to chance getting blood on any of Patton’s furniture. Besides, it wasn’t like Patton hadn’t seen him bruised and battered before. He changed pants and tossed his discarded clothing into the bathtub, where they would be out of the way.

Upon walking back into the living room, he saw Anxiety, sitting at the counter between the kitchen and living room and looking at him with genuine alarm. Crap. He’d forgotten about Anxiety.

“I thought you looked bad before--” Anxiety started.

“Shut up,” Roman said, flopping onto the couch, where he promptly passed out.

This did not make Anxiety any less alarmed, but Patton just covered Roman with a blanket and said, “Don’t worry, kiddo. He’s usually like this when he’s hurting.”

Before Anxiety could say anything, Logan popped up. “We’ve been gone for only twenty-two hours,” he said. “Thomas was sleeping for most of them, but not all, so it appears that he can function at least a bit without us influencing him.”

“Twenty-two hours is a bit long, but still in the range of typical time we spend in the bottles,” Patton said.

“Last time we were gone for four days, though,” Anxiety said.

“Yeah, I can’t help you there, buddy. It’s never happened before, I don’t know why it did.”

“Wait, when was this?” Logan asked.

“During the time Roman said they were in the Nightmare realm,” Patton said.

Logan looked to Anxiety for confirmation. He nodded. Logan looked confused. “Why would you two lie to us though? Do you not trust us?”

“We just spent four days in a bottle that got bigger or smaller depending on my emotional state. Seems like a pretty interesting little experiment, doesn’t it?”

It clicked. “You thought I invented the bottles...to see how you would react in them? Oh, Anxiety, I would never make anything to hurt or endanger any of you. Patton may be the one who embodies Thomas’s morals, but that does not mean that I am devoid of them!”

“Yeah, I know,” Anxiety said. “But I had no idea what was going on, and at first I thought it was Roman, so when it wasn’t, the only other options were you, Thomas, or Patton. Patton’s the most unlikely of any of us to cause harm, even unintentionally, so then it’s just you and Thomas, both of whom were right there when we got out. I panicked and Roman covered for me. Of course, now that we know that it’s not any of us, that means it’s definitely Thomas, which is almost more concerning, especially considering that he has a different trap for each of us.”

“There’s still not enough evidence to conclude that it’s ‘definitely Thomas.’ It’s possible that it’s a self-defense mechanism that created itself in order to keep any one of us from having too much influence. It might also be a result of one or more of our parts of the mindscape running amok. Perhaps the Nightmare Realm and the Fairytale Realm have a boundary where they poorly react to each other.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“I did not say that. As Patton said earlier, it might also be ‘the column in the middle of all of us,’ and serve some sort of protective function. The point is, all of this is speculation and without further evidence, such speculation is pointless.” Logan turned to Patton. “Is there any possibility that you might have written down anything related to these traps?”

“I don’t think so, but I can look,” Patton said. He hurried up the stairs to parts unknown.

“I don’t suppose you have any information about them?” Logan asked Anxiety. “Patton said you forget every time.”

Anxiety pushed his right sleeve up to expose an arm covered in notes. “I wrote down everything I know about the last couple times. Anything before that…” he shrugged. “...and if I knew anything at any point in the past and wrote it down, the Fears and Insecurities have probably eaten it by now.”

“You should take care of those things,” Logan said.

“Well I could dump them at your house,” Anxiety said back, glaring. Logan glared back, but refused to get off topic. There were more important things to do right now.

“I’m going to go get a whiteboard, so we can consolidate the data,” Logan said. He snapped out.

Anxiety sighed and rested his head on the counter. Now it was just him and the sleeping Prince.

“Heya, Cuz.”

...And Patton’s children, who he had forgotten about. “I’m not your cousin,” he said, automatically.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” the young teen said. For all he tried, he could not remember her name. She sat down next to him. “Hey guess what?”

“What?”

“Guess.”

“You and your boyfriend broke up.” Anxiety had nothing else to go on. He was rarely at Patton’s house. Her boyfriend was the only thing she’d talked about last time.

“Oh please, that was ages ago. Guess again.”

“I’m not good at guessing. Just tell me.”

She sighed. “Fiiiine. I got to go to that white room place you and Dad and the others always hang out in. Me and Jimothy got to battle a monster teacher before Princey sent us home.”

Anxiety picked his head up and looked at her in disbelief. “...What?”

“Oh yeah, it was really fun. Like, there was this shadow demon thing that was like, possessing one of the subs from school, and I got to use a sword, and Princey banished us but I know I would have won. Jimothy was useless though.”

“And why were you there, exactly?”

“Dunno. Princey said something about daydreams, but it was boring and I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Does your Dad know about this?” Anxiety asked, wondering why she was telling him this.

“No, and you’re not gonna tell him.”

“I’m not?”

“You can’t! Dad’ll never let us out of the suburbs again!” Anxiety briefly considered doing it out of spite, but shrugged that impulse off. He had no reason to cause family drama. He wasn’t even part of the family.

The kid took his silence for assent and changed the subject. “I think Professor Logan ships you and Princey.”

Logan popped in, with two large, rolling whiteboards, instead of just one. “I have returned,” he called out.

The kid smirked, and mumbled, “Speak of the devil,” then ran off. Anxiety was confused by the entire exchange. Patton’s family was weird. They got weirder every time he visited.

“Making friends?” Logan asked.

“No,” Anxiety said.

“Pity. Rebecca’s a nice girl. I would think that you two would get on like a house on fire.”

“I feel like those two statements are contradictory.”

“Not at all. You wouldn’t believe how often she talks about her ‘favorite older cousin’ in my physics class.”

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

Logan looked like he couldn’t believe Anxiety had just said that. “...You. She was talking about you.”

“But I’m not related.”

“Patton considers us all part of a family, and therefore so does his children.”

“Right, so, so, what? Does that make you and Patton the gay dads, and then Roman’s like, uh, the vodka aunt, and I’m the emo cousin or something?”

Logan’s cheeks flushed. “Patton and I aren’t dating,” he said.

“Really? I have several pages of evidence that say otherwise.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, and then he realized that Anxiety was teasing him about earlier. He threw a marker at Anxiety, who ducked, laughing. “Asshole,” Logan muttered.

“Real mature, Teach.”

“We were going to consolidate all of our available data, were we not? Let’s stay on track.”

Logan pulled out his notebook and started transferring notes to a whiteboard. Anxiety got the other whiteboard marker from where it had landed in the kitchen and started doing the same thing with the notes on his arm.

Logan glanced over at Anxiety’s writing. “Wow,” he said.

“What?”

“I can barely read that, and I’m a teacher.”

“You know what? The English language wasn’t designed for lefties.”

“I’m left-handed too, and I write perfectly legibly.”

“You write in all capital letters.”

“And it is legible, therefore your comment does not strengthen your argument. The real question is: why is your handwriting so much worse on the whiteboard than your arm?”

“I’m trying to make the letters not erase. I can’t put my hand on the board. Also, this is bigger than I ever write normally.”

“...Have you never written on a whiteboard before?”

“Why would I have?”

Logan “hmmm”ed but didn’t respond. He supposed that made sense. The Fears and Insecurities didn't seem like the type of creatures that would enjoy free body diagrams.

He left Anxiety to his notes, and on the other whiteboard, he drew a diagram of each of the other traps, with everything he had observed about them underneath. There wasn't much, though that made sense since they had only encountered the other traps for a short amount of time, and only once. Plus, the other traps only worked on one or two people, as opposed to all four of them. He also added a section for the grayspace itself.

“I'm back!” Patton said, coming down the stairs. “I didn't find anything except this paper that I can't read. It's not mine or the kids’ handwriting though, so I thought it might be important.”

Anxiety took the paper from him. “This is my handwriting,” he said, confused. He scanned through the page. “I don’t remember writing this though...it talks about the bottles...but it doesn’t tell us anything we don’t already know.”

“It does, though, doesn’t it?” Logan said. The other two looked at him blankly. “It tells us that at one point, Anxiety knew about the bottles and remembered what happened after he escaped.” He took the paper, reading it through. Once he was finished, he added, “Also, if you read this, it mentions that Patton was the one who broke the bottle and didn’t remember anything afterwards. Thus, it can be theorized that there is a correlation between breaking the bottle and forgetting the whole event, though without more data it will remain only a theory.”

“Wait, really?” Anxiety asked, snatching the paper back and reading it over. “...huh.”

“Patton, would you read over our notes and determine if there’s anything that we overlooked or that you noticed in addition to these?” Logan asked.

“Sure,” Patton said. He started with the whiteboard for the bottles, and immediately turned back. “I can’t read half of these notes, though.”

“It is not that bad!” Anxiety said.

“It is that bad, kiddo. Who taught you to write?” Patton asked, with actual concern.

“You could read my handwriting just fine in the bottles!”

“Yes, but it was legible in the bottles,” Patton said.

“Also, for the most part, it was me reading it,” Logan said. “Start with the other whiteboard, Patton. I’ll rewrite the notes over here.”

Patton went to the other whiteboard. “I notice you have the ‘cube’ and ‘bear trap’ sections empty except for their pictures,” he said immediately.

“That is because I know nothing about them.”

“Well the bear trap snapped at you when it got too close,” Patton said. “You didn’t even set it off, it just jumped up and tried to bite you.”

Anxiety handed Patton the other whiteboard marker. “They also went off when I put a Seed of Doubt on the trigger,” he said. “But they don’t snap around you or me. Dunno about Roman, though, since he didn’t get anywhere near them.”

“The cube things didn’t react at all,” Patton said, starting to write underneath the ‘bear trap’ category. “Of course, we didn’t really go near them, but they didn’t do anything.”

“Perhaps they aren’t traps,” Logan said. “We don’t know for certain that--”

“LOGIC!”

Logan vanished, along with his marker, called away by Thomas. Patton and Anxiety glanced at each other nervously, but only for a second.

“MORALITY!”

Patton and his marker vanished too. Anxiety sighed irritably. Now he couldn’t even carry on without them.

“ROMAN!”

Roman didn’t vanish. He barely even moved, except to stir a bit and say, “Go away, Thomas.”

There was silence for a moment, and then, “ROMAN?”

All Roman did was groan irritably.

Anxiety snapped into Thomas's living room before he was called, worried that Logan and Patton would screw things up.

“Anxiety!” Thomas said, surprised. “I was just about to call you.”

“What do you want, Sanders?” Anxiety asked irritably.

“Well, first, I would like to know where Roman is.”

“Oh, I think you've had quite enough of his influence for now. Remember yesterday?” Technically, that didn’t answer the question, but Anxiety didn’t want him to know they had all been conspiring together at Patton’s house.

“Yeah, that kinda leads me to my next question: What's been going on lately? It feels like my entire brain has been conspiring against me! What is up with you guys?”

The three traits looked at each other. Logan couldn’t lie; his existence was based on facts and logic, and lying was a direct contradiction of both of those. Patton couldn’t lie either; lying was immoral and he simply couldn’t do it. Anxiety could lie, but he was always too afraid of getting caught to focus on doing it convincingly.

“Us? Conspiring against you?” Anxiety asked.

“Yes!” Thomas said.

“Are you sure it isn’t the other way around?” Anxiety asked accusingly.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “Wait, what? Why would I be conspiring against you? You’re a part of me!”

“Sure, but maybe you don’t want us anymore. Maybe we’re villains to you. Maybe you feel the need to trap us, lock us away.”

“Look, if this is about the last video--”

“Maybe you feel the need to bottle your emotions.”

“Yeah, I sure have been doing that a lot lately. Wait, why did you say it like that?”

“Why do you think, Thomas?” Anxiety asked. He was losing control of this. Gosh, he did not plan this out well. Or at all.

“Does me bottling things up affect Patton?”

“He’s not the only--” Wait. Crap. This was not what he wanted to happen. “Dammit, Sanders!”

“Wait, does it affect you too? Both of you?”

Well, so much for not confronting Thomas about this.

“It would appear that when you get upset, you literally bottle up your emotions,” Logan explained. “And sometimes the rest of us with them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was trapped in a stupid champagne bottle with Princey for four days, Thomas!” The game was up. Might as well get all his frustration out with it.

Roman finally popped in, yawning. “You called?”

Thomas looked horrified. “What happened to you?”

Roman squinted uncomprehendingly. “What?” Then it clicked. “Oh.” He popped out, and popped in moments later, wearing a stainless tunic, and still wearing Patton’s pants. “Better?”

“No, not better! You looked like you went through the apocalypse!”

“You know, my appearance has been insulted all day! Not once has anyone called me pretty or handsome, it’s all ‘disaster,’ ‘trainwreck,’ ‘apocalypse!’”

“You look pretty,” Anxiety said, and as Roman turned to him in delight, he added, “...awful.”

“I do not like you!”

“Guys! Not helpful!” Thomas said. “Roman, what happened to you?”

“I almost died in a heroic attempt to save Logic. No biggie,” Roman said.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Anxiety said. “Patton said the traps won’t kill us.”

“The bottles won’t kill you! I am made of hopes and dreams! I’m very certain that that could have killed me!”

“Boys!” Patton snapped. Both of them looked at him. “Calm down. You’re scaring Thomas.”

“Good,” Anxiety said. “After everything we’ve been through for the past few days, he deserves it.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on but I want to fix it guys!” Thomas said. “Please, just help me understand!”

“Perhaps it would be best just to show him?” Logan asked.

“But he’s not a shapeshifter!” Anxiety said. “Who knows what might happen?”

“Well, he’s managed to summon us out of the grayscape,” Roman said. “Surely we could do the same for him, especially if we all work together.”

“Besides, he’s not part of the mind,” Patton said. “He’s a real person in the real world. I don’t think he can be trapped in there.”

“Ever heard the phrase ‘trapped in your own mind?’” Anxiety said. “What if we can’t get him out? Something bad could happen!”

Roman was about to tell him how ridiculous he was being, but he saw Anxiety’s face. Genuine worry. He realized this wasn’t just idle, anxious complaining.

“You have a point,” he conceded.

“No, don’t go to his side,” Logan said. “He’s being illogical!”

“Is he?” Roman said. “We, while being the cores of Thomas, are not all of Thomas. Even combined, it’s possible that we won’t have the power to summon him back. Also, consider how many other phrases have turned literal in the grayspace. ‘Bottled emotions,’ ‘Seeds of Doubt,’ uh, ‘creative block,’ and...honestly I got nothing for the bear traps, but I’m sure it’s something. It’s not unreasonable to think that Thomas could be trapped inside his own mind within the grayspace.”

Patton made a worried noise that Logan knew meant that Roman had convinced him.

“All right,” Logan said. “What do you propose we do instead?”

There was silence for a moment. Then Anxiety said, “We could show him the whiteboards. That would work, wouldn’t it? Everything we know about everything is there already.”

Logan thought about it for a moment. “Acceptable,” he said, and snapped.

Suddenly, the five of them were in Patton’s house. “Whoa,” Thomas said. “This looks like my dream house.”

“It is your dream house,” Roman said. “Well, as far as your realistic, domestic dreams go.”

“Sit down, Thomas,” Logan said, gesturing to the couch. Thomas sat down. Logan wheeled the whiteboards in front of the TV.

Logan was the one who primarily did the talking, with all of the others--who were scattered across the living room furniture--chipping in whenever they felt necessary. Roman chipped in a lot, especially when they got to the non-bottles board. He’d been asleep during the original note-taking, but he’d experienced the most inside the grayspace, since he’d had to traverse it alone and had wandered all over trying to find them.

Once they were finally finished, Thomas said, “Okay, I see what you guys are nervous about, but I just don’t know how to fix it. Here and the mind palace that Roman created are the only actual places within my mind that I’ve ever been, and I certainly don’t know how to manipulate it. I really want to help, but I’m not sure what I can do.”

“Just try,” Roman said.

“Yeah, kiddo!” Patton said. “Just try not to bottle us up or keep us down anymore, okay?”

“Any of us,” Anxiety said forcefully.

Thomas nodded solemnly. “I’ll do my best,” he said. “I promise.”

“That is acceptable,” Logan said.

As Roman was getting ready to spar one day, he realized that he’d misplaced his shield. He looked all over the armory for it. Then he remembered where he put it.

He summoned himself into the grayspace, curious to see if it was still there. Surprisingly, it was. He picked up his shield from where it still lay against the wall, and turned around.

He saw nothing.

Curious, he walked further away from the wall, confident that he could escape from anywhere in the room. The only things he found were the bear traps. Those pointless, pointless bear traps. They were everywhere, probably the same amount as what had been when there were other traps as well, but they seemed more plentiful when compared to the absence of the other traps.

He made it to the stairs, and out of curiosity, climbed up. Once he reached the top, he looked around. Up here, there were still a few bottles, a few dandelion heads, one block trap. And so many bear traps. However, there were not as many as there had been, and none of them looked like they had been used in a long time. It seemed that Thomas really had been trying to make sure that none of them got trapped anymore.

Roman smiled, changed into Terrence, and popped out.

It was acceptable.

#roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #anxiety sanders #i'm not sure if i'm happy with this ending but idk how else to end it #let me know if you want to stay on the tag list for other stuff or if you only wanted to be there for bottled #bottled

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