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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

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Lost and Found

Prompt: Hello, you can ignore this but can you write Logince hurt/comfort?

look there's been too much character angst in my notes recently so I'm giving you no-one-is-at-fault-sweet-protective-boys h/c tonight

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: logince can be platonic or romantic i don't care I'm to aroace to parse out which is which

Word Count: 3116

He’d just wanted to find Roman.

Or, Logan gets lost in the Imagination looking for Roman when the weather takes a turn.

He’d just wanted to find Roman.

Logan grits his teeth against the wind as he pushes further into the Imagination. His glasses get knocked askew by a particularly enthusiastic burst of wind and he winces, fixing them before shaking his head at himself.

“This isn’t real,” he mutters, still pushing forward, “this is the Imagination. It isn’t real. Nothing can really hurt me here.”

And Roman would never hurt me.

Logan turns. And turns. And turns. Where did he come from again?

Ah, yes, there’s the broken tree branch he stumbled into when he came into the clearing. That’s where he came from. So, logically, he should turn so that is at his back before continuing. Yes, that’s what he should do.

So he does, turning so that the tree branch is behind him and walking forward. Well, stumbling forward. There’s something wrong with his shoes, he decides as he looks down and sees his legs perfectly intact. Perhaps they are not ideal for slogging through windy forests. Which, alright, he cannot be fully blamed for, he was not intending on going on a quest today—he just wants to find Roman. They have plans today and they’d both been looking forward to them. So he needs to find Roman. Yes, that’s what he needs to do.

…where is Roman, again?

Logan frowns, still trying to hold his glasses in place against the wind that—if he were someone else, he would say it seems determined to strip him of them. But that’s ridiculous. Wind doesn’t have emotions or goals, and this wind isn’t real.

But then would that mean that it could have emotions or goals?

He shakes again and walks forward, narrowly dodging a broken tree branch. He winces as he stumbles into the trunk and narrowly avoids smashing his head into its side. He keeps going. It’s cold. It sends him more off-balance, sends him staggering into another tree. He reaches out to grip the bark and squeezes his eyes shut.

This isn’t real. I’m fine. I just need to find Roman and get out.

His fingers slip on the jagged bark as he pushes himself up. He moves forward.

Something hits his face. He flinches, hand coming up instinctively to block his path when something hits his hand. He flails, trying to swat it away, only for something else to hit his hand. And again. And again. He swipes at his face, trying to figure out what it is, what’s hitting him, only for his hand to come away damp.

Oh. It’s raining.

Indeed, his glasses become speckled with water droplets before he can fully come to this conclusion. His shirt begins to stick to his skin, his tie hangs limply, caught by the buttons. He grits his teeth anew and keeps pushing forward. Just get to Roman, just get to Roman.

…where is Roman?

Logan turns around. And turns. And turns.

He’s in a forest. Dark trees frown over him, the wind gleefully stripping bark and flinging it at him. He throws his arms up to protect his face. Rain stings as it slaps bare skin. It’s cold.

He turns once more and—

Smack!

Logan cries out as he stumbles, landing hard against the roots of a tree sprawled across the forest floor. His pants whine in protest as he collapses. His leg burns. A very quick, very absent-minded assessment says it’s not broken, not sprained, just scraped. But anything more than that would mean moving and the rain seems determined to pin him to the ground. The wind whistles against him, delighting in seeing him there, at the base of the tree, unable to move.

But he has to find Roman.

Roman will know what to do.

Roman won’t hurt him.

“Logan?” The wind starts to sound like Roman’s voice. “Logan? Logan, is that you? Logan!”

His eyes closed against the onslaught of bark, Logan reaches out, baring his arms to the wind, reaching for the voice that sounds too far away.

“Logan! Oh my stars, Logan, you’re hurt, what’re you doing here, come here—“

“R-roman?”

“Yes,” Roman says, and oh, there’s Roman, “I’m right here, my darling nerd, come on, come here, let’s just—let’s get you out of here. What are you doing here, you don’t even have a coat—“

“Thought I didn’t need one,” he slurs, belatedly realizing how warm Roman is, “not real.”

“Oh, Logan,” Roman sighs, fondness bleeding into his tone as he lifts—when did he get his arms around him?— Logan up and begins to walk, “you can’t solve all of your problems with object impermanence.”

“…watch me.”

“Gladly,” comes the murmur as a warm kiss is pressed against his forehead, “but not right now, hmm? Let’s get you warm.”

It takes a few moments of realizing that it’s over, he’s safe, he found Roman, for Logan to put the pieces together that he’s being carried out of Roman’s realm like a child.

“I can walk,” Logan protests, trying to free himself only to be thwarted by Roman’s hold, “you can put me down.”

“I’m sure I could, and I’m sure you can, sweetheart,” Roman murmurs, still walking without trying to put him down, “but you can also let me carry you.”

Logan does not pout, he doesn’t, as Roman walks them out of the Imagination. The wave of warm as they cross the threshold into Roman’s room grants him the immediate knowledge that had he been standing under his own power, the contrast would’ve sent him right back into Roman’s arms.

“Shh,” Roman says quietly when he lets out an unconscious gasp at how cold he must be, “shh, sweetheart, thankfully you’re not hypothermic. Let’s get you in the warm shower, okay?”

“No, wait—after drop, core temperature causes—“

“That’s when you’ve been swimming,” Roman corrects, still carrying Logan as they make it to the bathroom, “not out in the rain.”

“Oh.” Logan blinks. “I—didn’t mean to go swimming.”

Roman chuckles, setting him down carefully on the steps to the bathtub. He reaches up to gently take off Logan’s glasses, drying them on a soft towel and sliding them back on. Logan blinks, trying to orient himself in Roman’s bathroom.

“…has this room always been this…extravagant?”

He’s rewarded with another laugh from Roman as they look around. Really, the last time Logan remembers being in here, it had looked much like Thomas’s bathroom. Shower, mirror, toilet, sink, a few cabinets. But now—

Now he’s sitting on the steps up to a truly massive bathtub, across the room from an equally massive walk-in shower. The vanity looks large enough for him to lie across with room to spare, the two sinks just below enormous mirrors. The toilet looks like—well, a throne.

It’s a miracle of a bathroom.

“Janus helped me make it,” Roman says softly, calling his attention back with a gentle hand under his chin, “it doesn’t stay all the time, but when someone needs to be spoiled, this is what it looks like.”

“Who needs to be spoiled?”

Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “You, sweetheart, you’re freezing. Come on, let’s get you into the shower. I’ll grab something soft for you to wear afterward.”

Logan nods, attempting to get up to do as Roman bids only to wince. Roman, turning away, immediately crouches back down, hands reaching in concern.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart,” he murmurs, looking him over, “can I help? What can I do?”

“I fell.” Logan stubbornly ignores the flush in his face as he gestures weakly toward his leg. “Tripped on a root, I think it’s scraped.”

Roman winces in sympathy, reaching to hover his hand over where Logan indicates. “Sometimes I swear those trees are trying to trip me.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth. “It’s not Remus, is it?”

Roman laughs. “No, no, when he wants you on the ground, he doesn’t stop at passively trying to trip you. Trust me.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Roman’s hand lands on the scrape and he sucks in air through his teeth. “There.”

“Mm, I can feel how warm it is. You poor thing…alright. There’s a first aid kit in the left drawer over there—yes, that one, and the stuff in the shower is meant to be gentle. I’d avoid trying to clean it fully, that’s going to hurt, but just enough to make sure there’s nothing in the wound.”

“I understand.”

Roman pats his knee and stands. “I’ll be just outside, take as long as you need. I’ll leave the clothes on the counter, okay?”

Logan tries to look up and winces. The bright lights and the white tile make it difficult to keep his eyes open without his glasses.

“…sweetheart?”

“Can it be—“ Logan waves his hand at the ceiling— “less?”

“Of course, here—give me your hand.” Roman helps him stand, slips his arm around his waist, and guides him to the shower. He presses Logan’s hand against the wall to feel the set of light switches. “There’s one that controls all the lights, one for the overhead, one for the shower light, and one for the fan.”

Logan clicks a couple of times until he can look up again, yellow light spilling into the shower area and only the shower area. “Thank you.”

“Always.” Roman kisses the back of his hand and leaves him be.

Peeling himself out of his damp clothes takes longer than he expected, but his frustration is tempered by the knowledge that he’s here, he found Roman, Roman would never let him be hurt in his own bathroom, and that it’s okay, now.

Everything is okay.

He leaves his clothes laid out on the steps, his glasses set on the counter nearest the shower. The curtain has the same weight as a key in his hand. The warm water beats down over his shoulders, flowing softer over his leg. He can’t see it too well in the soft light, but he can make out the angry red skin and it still feels too hot to the touch. He winces as the water hits the wound, turning so it hits his head first. After a moment, he lies down, the cool tiles beneath him the perfect contrast to the pitter-patter of warm water on his front.

Logan lies there, in the warm light, soft under the water, and remembers how to breathe.

When his chest no longer aches from the cold, he stands, shutting off the water and reaching for the towels. Oh, Roman must have heated towel racks; the towel he wraps himself in is so, so, warm. A noise escapes his mouth as he walks over to the pile of clothes left on the counter. A glance over his shoulder shows Roman must’ve come in while he was drifting. His wet clothes are gone too. He reaches for the dry ones only to wince when the towel rubs against the scrape on his leg.

Right.

He turns on the brighter lights, wincing and trying to see the full scope of the injury. It doesn’t look good; he’s scraped along most of his upper thigh, red and angry and too sore for him to rest his weight on. There’s probably not much he can do. It’s not severe enough to merit a full bandage and smearing any sort of cream over that much surface area just guarantees it’ll get on something he’d rather it didn’t. He sighs and exits the bathroom only to pause.

Oh, Roman’s turned his fairy lights on.

Roman glances up from under the strings of lights hanging around his room, smiling when he sees Logan and holding out his arms. The room is dim, not too dark that he can’t see, but not bright and shining as it normally is. Roman is still in his prince costume, looking every bit like he’s stepped out of a storybook. Logan suddenly feels very underdressed in the pajama shirt and shorts.

“Come here,” Roman calls when Logan hesitates, “let me have a look at you.”

Logan moves, making to sit next to Roman when Roman stops him with a hand on his hip.

“…did you not find the first aid kit?”

Oh. “There’s not much use in it. It’s not bad enough to cover and I—“

Roman moves his hand to touch the scrape and Logan flinches. At Roman’s fond yet disappointed look, something like shame bubbles up in his chest.

“…will you help me?”

“Always,” Roman says, pushing Logan’s hip, “now lie down. I’ll be right back.”

Logan lies down, worrying a little about getting anything on Roman’s bed only for Roman to hush any protests and tuck a pillow under his head.

“Don’t strain your neck. I’ll be right here.”

Logan tries, but as soon as he feels the bed sag behind him and the clunk of the first aid kit opening he tenses.

“Roman.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t—can’t do this. Not like this.” He shakes his head. “I can’t see you. I don’t know where you’re—when you’re going to touch me.”

“Okay.” Roman moves to crouch in front of him. “I still need to be able to see your leg. Can we try something else?”

They end up with Logan resting against Roman’s shoulder, his leg across Roman’s lap. Roman takes one of Logan’s hands and rests it on his arm.

“It’s on the outside of your thigh,” he says, “so I’m going to need you to turn it or I’m going to have to lean over. Either way, I won’t always be looking at you so if you need me to stop at any time, squeeze.”

Roman won’t hurt him. Roman won’t let him be hurt. His hands are gentle as he applies the cream, strong enough to hold Logan’s leg in place without it hurting. When he brushes a raw part of the scrape and Logan hisses, he rubs soothing circles into the skin with his thumb as Logan lets out a breath over a few seconds.

“Good.”

Only when Roman starts making sure the cream is properly rubbed in does Logan realize he’s focusing more on the dry warmth of Roman’s hand than the slight sting of the cream. He’s more focused on the slight furrow of Roman’s brow than the angry red welts on his leg. He’s more focused on the way his leg rests in Roman’s lap, in Roman’s grip, Roman’s arms flexing and relaxing under his hand than the slight strain of keeping his leg turned.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Roman, of course, can feel the moment he tenses, no matter how small, stopping his motions and looking up at Logan’s face. Logan, of course, would rather Roman didn’t look at his face right now and turns away, steadfastly focusing on the wound on his leg and not the way his face heats up under Roman’s focus. But then there are fingers under his chin that turn him back to Roman’s face and that’s not fair. Roman simply raises an eyebrow, wordlessly asking in a way that ensures Logan can’t speak.

Have Roman’s eyes always been that color brown?

He can see the moment realization clicks by the way Roman’s face softens, mouth curling up in the way it does when he’s about to tease Logan for the next hour. Logan flinches only for Roman to cup the side of his face and hold him still.

“Eyes closed now, Specs,” Roman murmurs instead, thumb running over his leg.

“W-what?”

“Close your eyes,” he repeats, “let me put the bandage on and we’ll be done.”

Logan opens his mouth again but Roman raises his eyebrows.

“Closed.”

He hears the gentle pull of the tape, feels Roman’s warm hands tape the gauze in place. Feels one of Roman’s arms hook under his leg, the other around his back, hears the soft thump of the covers as Roman stands, turns, and lays him down properly. He hushes the soft noise of surprise and snaps his fingers, the prince costume turning to pajama under Logan’s hand.

“We had plans,” Logan protests blearily as he feels Roman slide his glasses off his face, “we were going to—to—“

“To what, sweetheart,” comes the murmur next to his ear when he can’t finish his sentence, “what were we going to do?”

He grits his teeth in frustration, much to Roman’s amusement.

“Relax, Specs,” he chuckles, “it’s alright. I’ll be right here when you remember what we were going to do. In the meantime, why don’t you just lie here with me?”

Logan bites back a curse. Damn Roman for being as perceptive as he is, and damn him for knowing it’s working.

“Shh,” as a hand strokes his cheek, “none of that, now, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

“Should’ve known a prince could never resist a damsel in distress,” he bites out, just to have something to say.

“Oh? Is that why you came into the storm with no jacket?” Damn. “So I’d have to come save you? Logan, really, if you wanted my attention, you needn’t resort to such extremes.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says in a way he hopes doesn’t sound as much like a whine as he thinks it does.

Judging by Roman’s chuckle, it’s definitely a whine. “Oh, Logan, you know you always have my attention.”

“Stop teasing.”

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs, “you’re so teaseable.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It is now.” Before he can open his mouth again, there’s a kiss pressed to his cheek and warm arms around him. “Now shush, my dearest nerd, and rest. My damsel’s hurt.”

Through the rapidly growing drowsiness, Logan manages to mutter: “not your damsel.”

“Of course not,” Roman coos, “you’re my Logan.”

“Roman!”

He laughs again, a hand coming up to ruffle his damp hair. “Come here, roll onto your side—yes, that’s it. There. Let me hold you. This way you won’t roll onto the scrape and hurt yourself.”

Roman’s leg wraps through his, drawing him into a gentle pin. Nothing that will work if Logan actually wants to be free—and he knows Roman would let him go the instant he asks. The hand in his hair threatens to lull him right to sleep, but not before he says thank you.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” comes the reply, the other hand scratching lightly between his shoulder blades, “now you just lie there and fall asleep to me.”

Just before he slips under, he hears one last whisper.

“Me too, Logan, me too.”

Logan drifts off in Roman’s arms, safe, warm, found.

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders

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eliemo · 4 years ago

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What Matters

Summary: It’s not that Virgil thought the dream would ever become a reality. It’s just that sometimes, it’s nice to see the flaws in his logic laid out plainly in front of him.

Notes: past abuse mention, past violence mention, nightmares, sympathetic dark sides and light sides

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222 @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @basilthefourth @snowtrashowl @thefingergunsgirl @trashtm @stubbornness-and-spite @kieraelieson @alias290 @darkch1ld @craz-ewaters @damy-02 @frogdog145 @gattonero17 @madamedraconis @stoicpanther @@love-to-read02 @that-spider-fan-over-there @thatoneloudowl @rich-flower-17 @demigodbookdragon @i-gobymanynames

Masterpost

Virgil stumbled into the hallway, shivering under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, breaths coming in panicked, shuddering gasps as tears blurred his vision.

“It was an experiment, Virgil.”

“It seems the others were onto something, after all.”

Logan’s voice kept ringing in his ears (it wasn’t Logan’s voice, he knew that. He knew Logan would never say those things), cold and calculating, but smiling through the nightmare, relieved for things to finally return to how they were supposed to be.

It was a dream. Just a stupid, stupid dream that his idiotic brain had decided to torture him with tonight.

He’d never...had a dream like this before.

Virgil paused at the top of the stairs, hesitating with his arms wrapped around himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to decide what to do.

He knew it was ok to get someone after a nightmare. The others had practically insisted after they had learned how frequently he had them.

They all helped in their own way. Patton would chase away memories of the past, holding him close with promises that he was safe, that he would never be trapped again.

Roman offered distractions from his fears, colorful stories and grand reassurances, the prince swearing to fight off anything that might threaten his safety.

And Logan...Logan brought him back to reality. Logan calmed him down, grounded him, reminded him where and who he was. He pushed aside irrational fears and worries with his usual logic, his reasoning slowly putting Virgil’s racing mind at ease.

Logan was who he should go to now, after his dreams had warped reality, made him question his own safety in the waking world.

But...

A flash of pain, a hand grabbing the collar of his shirt and slamming him to the wall, hard enough to leave him wheezing.

It hadn’t been Logan. Logan would never. He’d promised, and proved his good intentions time and time again. Virgil wouldn’t be where he was without the logical side’s help through his recovery.

He trusted Logan. He loved him- he loved all of them more than he knew how to say. He owed them everything. So there was no reason his stupid brain should come up with something so horrific.

The things he’d been told hadn’t even made sense. It was just exhausted, paranoid thoughts that had unfortunately come to life in an incredibly vivid nightmare.

It was something he’d used to worry about, back when the others had first accepted him, Virgil’s terror and confusion convincing him that their kindness was fake, that they would turn around and hurt him too as soon as they were fed up.

He knew better now. They showed him every day, over and over and over again, that he was safe. That they loved him as much as he loved them. That he wasn’t the only protector in the mindscape.

That he didn’t deserve the pain. He never had.

His mind played tricks on him all the time. Hell, sometimes it liked to torment him just as much as the Others used to. He should be used to dreams like this by now. It shouldn’t be leaving him so shaken.

But the feeling had been so familiar, the dream so eerily vivid, digging up old, long buried fears. It had been confirmation that the Others had been right, that he’d deserved it all, that no one had ever actually wanted him to feel protected.

It was so stupidly unrealistic. And so, so terrifying.

He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, held his breath to make as little noise as possible, and descended the stairs by himself.

Besides, if he told someone about this particular nightmare, he’d only end up upsetting them. They didn’t deserve that.

So that was how Virgil ended up pressed into the corner of the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and willing himself to stop his violent trembling. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, unfairly realistic dream.

He didn’t turn on the television, despite knowing the sound would help distract him. His hands refused to move, still clutching tightly at the blanket around his shoulders.

He stayed where he was, distantly aware the other sides would be up in just a few hours, staring blankly at the wall, letting the awful dream replay over and over again in his head.

The first rays of pale sunlight had begun filtering in through the mindscape’s windows by the time Virgil heard movement upstairs, the familiar creaking of someone moving through the halls.

He didn’t move, despite how his back protested the way he’d been hunched over for quite a while now, watching warily as Janus made his way downstairs.

Virgil wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or relieved, but he couldn’t help but smirk at the way Deceit did a double take when he saw the anxious side huddled up on the couch.

He knew Janus had only recently learned what had happened to Virgil, the beatings always happening when his back was turned, and since Virgil hadn’t actually been the one to say anything, he had no idea how much Deceit knew.

It still made him uneasy sometimes, the worried, guilt ridden looks he occasionally caught the snake watching him with, the glances he and Remus would share, the less than subtle attempts to give him his space.

Virgil seemed to be the only person Remus was actually careful around, the Duke sure to lower his volume and tone down his movements when the anxious side was in the room (which wasn’t saying much considering the energy Remus had, but Virgil appreciated it regardless), and ever since the panic attack in the kitchen, Virgil hadn’t seen his Morning Star anywhere in sight.

It was a work in progress, Virgil still wary and unsure around him, but the two of them were gradually learning to coexist and understand each other.

Janus was...a different story.

A blind man could see the guilt Deceit was carrying onto, the denial, shock, and anger that never seemed to give him a moment's rest.

Or maybe Virgil was just able to pick up on it because he’d gone through the exact same thing. He still was.

Deceit, self proclaimed lord of the lies, hadn’t picked up on the violence and abuse the others had put Virgil through, never once allowing himself to pick up on the little white lies thrown around to keep Virgil helpless.

And as much as he wanted to sometimes, Virgil couldn’t blame Janus. It wasn’t his fault- the others had known what they were doing, and they’d known Janus would put a stop to it the second he found out. Kicking Virgil around was a pastime they were far too invested in to lose.

But there were days when pain and sickening fear from memories that wouldn’t leave him alone, when flashbacks and nightmares and panic attacks became too much to handle, that Virgil wished, more than anything, that Janus had intervened. That he’d let himself look closer. That it all could have stopped sooner.

And he knew Janus wished the same thing. It was probably why he was awake at five in the morning looking like death warmed over.

Janus was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, and Virgil offered a shaky peace sign in greeting.

“Hey,” he said, grimacing when he realized that it absolutely looked and sounded like he’d been crying for the past hour and a half. Great. “You’re up early.”

Janus seemed to visibly regain his composure, quickly straightening his back and offering a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

“I’ve been up a while.”

He saw Janus frown at that, fiddling with his sleeves, uncertain. “Are you...alright? Do you want coffee?”

And yeah, that was as much of a heart to heart as either of them were going to have this early in the morning. Virgil wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk about how one of the most ridiculous nightmares he’d ever experienced had left him trembling and crying like a child afraid of the dark.

“Fuck, yes please. Go get me caffeine.”

It was enough to get a genuine smile this time, some of the tension seeping out of Deceit’s shoulders as he made his way to the kitchen.

He was fine. He was home, he was safe, and things were good. The nightmare would fade, as dreams do, and in a little bit they would all eat breakfast together like a family. Like they always did.

There was absolutely no reason he should still feel so scared. He should be looking forward to everyone waking up, not feeling like he was being led down to the gallows with every tick of the clock.

Janus was back in just a few moments, two plastic mugs in his hands, and Virgil tried to ignore the way his stomach dropped at the sudden thought of what would happen if he spilled on the couch after he was handed his drink.

Nothing. Nothing would happen and no one would be mad. God, he needed to get a hold of himself.

Nothing was going to change. And yet…

“Janus?” he asked quickly, the other side stopping in his tracks. “Where...where are you going to be today?”

He could feel Janus staring, but Virgil now kept his gaze firmly on the steaming coffee in his lap.

“My room, most likely,” he said. “I have some things to attend to today.”

“Could you-” God, this was stupid, this was so needlessly stupid. “Could you like...leave your door unlocked? Just- um...just in case?”

“Just in case...what, Virgil?”

“Y-you know.” And really, what was he supposed to answer with? Just in case he’d suddenly been granted the gift of prophetic dreams and he needed a place to hide when Logan started beating him? “Just...in case.”

He risked a glance up, relieved when there was no ridicule or annoyance in Janus’s eyes, just gentle confusion like he was trying to silently pick apart Virgil’s thoughts.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “My door isn't open if you need anything.”

It was...new, Virgil realized, having these careful, honest conversations with Janus. He wasn’t about to drop all his defenses and retell the details of his nightmare, and Deceit knew that, but they were still miles better than they’d been just a week ago.

“Thanks, Janus.”

Janus made his way back upstairs, hopefully to get some more sleep, and Virgil settled back against the couch, significantly less shaky than before. It was just a stupid dream. He’d be ok.

Virgil was aware he was being a complete asshole.

He’d made the mistake of assuming the paranoid jumpiness from his dream would fade as soon as the mindscape came to life and everything continued on as normal. He hadn’t expected it to get worse.

He was pretty sure Roman and Patton could tell something was up, but Virgil managed to plaster on a nervous smile and force himself to breathe easy as he was seated at the kitchen table, listening to Roman ramble as Patton started cooking breakfast.

And then Logan was walking in, muttering a quiet greeting, and the panic had hit full force.

Which was completely ridiculous, especially as Logan just offered him a warm, tired smile and made his way over to the pot of coffee.

It was the same Logan he saw every morning- welcoming and safe, and a very large part of the progress Virgil had made over the months.

Logan would never hurt him, nobody would...no one was going to…

“Come here, Virgil.”

There were hands grabbing at him, nails digging into his skin, overpowering and so painfully familiar.

“Virgil!”

“Virgil?” Logan was looking at him now, brow pinched, and suddenly they were all staring at him and Virgil couldn’t breathe- when had it become so hard to breathe?

He stood up from the table, the chair scraping against the floor and nearly tipping over in his rush, stuffing his hands deep into his hoodie pockets to hide the way they were shaking.

“I- uhm, I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t have any other excuses. No good ones at least. But the panic was wrapping around him like a vice, cold, cruel hands squeezing his neck, and Logan was taking a cautious step towards him--

Virgil sank out without another word, his mind momentarily set back to the old, terrifying mindset, screaming at him to get out, to run and hide before someone grabbed him…

God, what was wrong with him?

He ended up locking himself in his bathroom, turning on the sink so the rushing water would drown out his rapid, panicked breathing, turning harshly away from his reflection in the mirror.

He was fine, he was fine, he was...trying really hard not to plan out escape routes and hiding spots in his head.

It was an old habit that had practically been second nature to him before living with the light sides, and even a few weeks after. It had helped him feel at ease, pinpointing places he could keep himself hidden and out of the way, even if it often proved to be pointless.

It was how he’d ended up in the closet, covered in blood with shards of glass coating his skin, so deep in his panic he’d been convinced his family was hurting him.

He couldn’t risk falling back into old habits. Not now, when he’d been making so much progress. Not over something as meaningless as a dream.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave the bathroom. Not when so many eyes would be on him the second he stepped back into the kitchen.

So he took extra time to do his makeup, layering on black eyeshadow to cover up how utterly exhausted he looked from his restless night, and took another few moments to stare blankly at the wall when he still wasn’t quite ready to come out.

When Patton came to check on him, Virgil blamed it on a bit of queasiness and promised to eat something later.

The guilt became suffocating when he realized the panic didn’t return with Patton’s voice, but it definitely was back with a vengeance when he heard Logan walk down the hallway a few moments later.

Logan didn’t deserve this. Everything the logical side had done for him, the endless patience, assistance, and careful compassion, and Virgil was right back to being a pathetic mess.

So maybe that was why he didn’t bother to be subtle about trying to avoid Logan for the rest of the day. Besides, even if he did try to hide his uneasiness, the logical side was always able to pick up on the little things. It would just be a wasted effort.

Virgil stayed cooped up in his room as much as he could, blasting music in his headphones to drown out any sounds.

When he did leave (at Patton’s gentle insistence that he eat something for lunch) he was sure to never end up in the same room as Logan, quickly retreating or sinking out whenever the logical side walked in. He resolutely ignored the twisting guilt in his gut at Logan’s small frowns when Virigl would blurt out some half hearted, see-through excuse each time.

He just needed a day or two. Just a little bit of time for the residual panic to fade and for things to go back to normal. It wasn’t logical, maybe, but...Logan would understand if he knew.

Except he wouldn’t, and that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

Virgil was well aware how difficult he was to deal with, especially earlier on. Logan had sacrificed so much time and effort to teach him, and the others, how to gradually undo the mindset Virgil had been conditioned to have.

All that work, all that trust, and Virgil was letting one night of nightmares influence him more than any of it. Logan...Logan would probably be furious with him.

But not enough to hurt him. Never enough to hurt him.

Virgil wasn’t...afraid of Logan. Despite proving the exact opposite every time he so much as caught a glimpse of the logical side today, Virgil was still coherent enough to know Logan wasn’t going to turn his back on a year’s worth of progress to strike him.

It was just...instinct taking over. Besides, in the nightmare, Logan’s reasoning for needing to hurt Virgil hadn’t been completely unreasonable.

Hell, before Logan had explained otherwise, Virgil had thought it was totally understandable that he needed to be hurt. He hated it, but it helped Thomas. That was a fact.

And like Logan always said, numbers didn’t lie. If Virgil being in pain was beneficial, then Virgil would stay in pain.

But Logan had been the first one to tell him that was false. He’d been the one to lay out the real facts and evidence to show how Virgil hurting would only worsen Thomas’s health, and his own.

They’d all helped Virgil realize, for the first time, that he never should have been hurt. He’d never deserved it. Any of it.

That was why he just needed to wait it out. He couldn’t talk this one out with the others, couldn’t face Logan just yet. It would just end up hurting him (that was what Virgil did best, after all) and Logan didn’t deserve that.

Unfortunately, Virgil was starting to really wish he’d had the courage to ask for reassurance when the sky grew dark and the mindscape quieted, and he quickly realized he was far too on edge to go to bed.

He was right back on the couch where he’d started the day, somehow even more jumpy and paranoid than he’d been that morning. He stared blankly at his phone, wondering if the dream would return if he fell asleep.

Great. He’d probably be pulling an all-nighter. Maybe multiple if he couldn’t get a grip. Patton was going to kill him when he found out.

“Virgil?”

Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketed at the voice from the staircase, breath catching in his throat as he dug his nails into the couch cushions. He didn’t look up, even as he felt Logan’s eyes on him, completely frozen under the weight of his gaze.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, steady and emotionless, impossible to read. “May I speak with you?”

Virgil’s heart was beating in his now tightening chest, and he furiously told himself to calm down. But his body wasn’t cooperating with his mind, panic overpowering reason, and Virgil desperately searched for an excuse before Logan could realize how terrified he was.

“I- um...I was just heading to bed, so--”

“I only require a moment of your time,” Logan said. “As you usually sleep at a much later hour than this, I’m sure that won't be an issue.”

Virgil took a shaky breath, wincing when he realized how obviously unsettled he must look. Logan didn’t sound angry, but...well, it was always so hard to tell.

But there wasn’t a way out. He just hoped he could play it off long enough for Logan to give up. “Ok. Yeah, what’s...what’s up.”

He tried not to think about how eerily similar this was to the nightmare. How Logan had calmly asked to speak with him. How he’d pulled out his notebook and presented neatly recorded data of Virgil’s health paralleled with Thomas’s.

“It seems Thomas’s productivity has only decreased since we began treating you as an equal, Virgil.”

“It seems the Others were right, your pain does make life easier.”

“We will, of course, have to return to that method. You understand, I’m sure.”

Virgil resisted the urge to flinch as Logan sat down at the other end of the couch, careful to keep his distance.

He wrapped his arms around himself, shuddering under the phantom feeling of hands grabbing him, so tight it bruised his skin, both from nightmares and memories he could never let go of.

“You’ve been avoiding me today.”

Virgil did flinch this time, curling into a tighter ball. “N-no I haven’t.”

Yeah, that was convincing. He could practically picture the exasperated eye roll Janus would give him if he were here. He kind of wished someone else would show up- anything to cause a distraction.

Logan wasn’t here to hurt him. Logan would never hurt him. No one would hurt him.

“I can...see my presence is causing you some distress,” Logan said, and Virgil felt like crying. “I do not wish to force you to speak with me, but I’ve clearly done something to trigger a reaction.”

He paused, obviously waiting for some kind of response or confirmation. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, and Logan sighed before continuing.

“It was never my intention to do anything to upset you. As is always the case, I only wish to identify the trigger so it does not happen again, and offer my sincere apologies. But I cannot do that if you won’t talk to me, Virgil.”

God, why couldn’t Logan just be angry? He wouldn’t go back for anything in the world, but sometimes…

Sometimes it felt like being screamed at, punched and kicked and thrown around until he couldn’t move had been easier. At least then, he knew what to expect.

Nobody had cared about him back then. And now...now Logan, Patton, Roman, Janus, and even Remus just wanted him to be ok. It scared him sometimes, how much he loved them.

“It...it’s not that,” Virgil said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s...fuck, you didn’t do anything Logan. You...you’re fine.”

Logan was silent a moment before responding. “I find that hard to believe. You are currently under visible distress, which didn’t begin until after I made my presence known. This has happened every time I have walked into the room today. You skipped breakfast after I--”

“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” Virgil winced at his own outburst, now looking anywhere but at Logan. God, why was he always such an asshole? “I’m...sorry. I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to...it’s just me, ok? I’m being stupid like always and--”

“You are not stupid,” Logan cut in, that stern but gentle tone he always used to talk Virgil out of a self deprecating spiral. “You tend to overthink and jump to often unrealistic conclusions, but as I have told you many times that does not change how intelligent and thoughtful you are.”

Virgil shrugged, the praise just making him feel more guilty about what he was putting the logical side through. “I’m still being stupid, though.”

“Falsehood. Something has frightened you, and clearly I am at the source. I only wish to assist.”

Well. Now he was going to have to tell Logan. Even if he was upset afterwards, annoyance was far better than Logan walking around, weighed down by guilt and blaming himself for something he didn’t do.

But apparently Virgil hesitated just a second too long, and Logan was suddenly speaking again.

“Perhaps we can try a different approach,” he offered. “Could you...explain why you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Virgil took a shaky breath. “You’re...gonna be mad.”

“At you?” Logan asked, and Virgil nodded. “I sincerely doubt that. Why do you believe I’m going to be angry?”

Virgil hunched over himself, and suddenly everything came spilling out. “Because...because you’ve done so much. I owe you all everything and I still...I’m still letting myself panic over a stupid fucking dream. After everything! And you...you don't deserve that. I-I’m sorry for avoiding you I didn’t mean to- to make you think--”

There was a hand on his shoulder, barely brushing the cloth of his hoodie, but Virgil still flinched back before he could stop himself, and Logan quickly pulled away.

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered. “I- I’m not--”

“No apologies necessary,” Logan said, sounding much more calm than Virgil would have expected. “There’s no shame in being affected by a particularly bad dream.”

Virgil scoffed, glancing up just enough to see Logan’s worried frown. “Sure.”

“I mean it, Virgil. Especially considering your past. I understand if a vivid nightmare was enough for you to revert back to an old mindset. Staying vigilant and avoiding threats is what kept you safe back then, isn’t it?”

Safe was a strong word- he had never really been safe before, but...avoidance had been a survival technique. If he thought someone was angry, the only thing he could do was stay out of their way and hide.

“But it’s you,” he argued. “I...it was so stupid you- you were saying that they were right. When...when they said that hurting me helped Thomas, and then...and then you showed me all this- this fucking data or whatever that me being safe hurt everyone and I...y-you all said I had to go back to how it was and I…”

He trailed off, face burning when a few traitorous tears slipped down his cheeks, and he furiously wiped them away with his sleeves, breathing deeply.

“Virgil--”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I’m...I know it’s dumb, ok? It’s just a stupid dream and you would never...I mean, if any of that was true you would have said something months ago, right?”

For the first time, he looked up to meet Logan’s gaze, suddenly finding himself speechless at the sheer amount of emotion behind his glasses. Warm but worried, calculating and understanding.

And then, slowly, he was standing from the couch. “Please wait here just a moment, Virgil. I believe there is something you should see.”

And then just like that he was gone, hurrying up the stairs without another word. For just a second, Virgil considered retreating, and apologizing for this entire conversation tomorrow when he was more put together.

But he didn’t need to make this any more unfair for Logan than it already was. Besides, the logical side was back in less than a minute, something held tight in his hand as he returned to his spot on the couch.

“What’s that?” Virgil asked, hoping his voice didn’t betray just how sickeningly nervous he felt.

Logan held it out to him, slow enough that Virgil didn’t flinch at the movement. He took it in his hands, realizing it was a plain black spiral notebook, and his heart clawed its way up to his throat.

“What’s--?”

“Flip through it, please,” Logan said calmly. “I believe you’ll find it interesting. And it may do something to set your mind at ease.”

So far it was doing the exact opposite, but Virgil obeyed and slowly began turning the pages.

It was clearly well-used, the some of the pages bent or wrinkled, but other than that it was still pristine and organized like everything that belonged to Logan.

Some pages had hand drawn graphs or what looked like data tables, others had written entries in Logan’s writing. Virgil skimmed through them, catching glimpses of his name, and occasionally the other’s, all of the descriptions of events and conversations vaguely familiar.

He had...absolutely no idea what the hell this was.

And Logan apparently picked up on that, the logical side suddenly clearing his throat and scooting closer, still far enough away for the couch to not feel crowded.

“It’s, uhm...well, you see when we had first learned of your past I wanted to ensure that we found the best methods to help you feel...safe. And at home. I suppose I should have told you, I completely understand if you’re--”

“Wait a second,” Virgil said, the pieces falling together. “This is...you kept notes on me? On...my recovery?”

It was Logan’s turn to avoid his gaze now, and Virgil’s heart sank when he realized Logan looked nervous.

“I apologize if it is invasive,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t my intention. It’s a bit of a habit, I suppose. I tend to take extensive notes on things I find...important. And finding the best way to help you was incredibly important to me, Virgil.”

Virgil felt like crying again, but for an entirely different reason this time. “Lo, that’s...god, that’s so fucking sweet.”

Logan’s head snapped up, eyes widening when he saw Virgil’s widening smile. “I- you believe so?”

“Dude, are you kidding? I’ve never...sometimes I just...can’t believe how much you guys care.”

Logan matched his smile, and carefully, slowly enough that Virgil could pull away, scooted closer to see the open notebook.

“I’ve been sure to document all of your progress at least once a week, no matter how small. And there has been a lot of it, even if you don’t always think so.”

“Logan--”

“But the reason I wanted you to see this today,” he continued, reaching over to turn a few pages. “Is because I occasionally compare your progress to Thomas’s productivity and overall wellbeing.”

Virgil had absolutely no idea what the graphs and symbols Logan was pointing at meant, but the other side was right there to explain it to him.

“Your progress, as well as how safe you began to feel around us, directly parallels Thomas's increased mental health. You being safe and healthy makes him better, Virgil. You being happy makes us better.”

And...yeah, there was absolutely no way for Virgil to stop himself from crying this time. He didn’t really have any intention to stop, anyway. It was a nice change of pace to cry from happiness for once.

Logan, unfortunately didn’t seem to know the difference. “I am...so sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

Virgil cut him off by pulling him into a hug, holding on tight and squeezing his eyes shut. Logan relaxed against him, and slowly moved to wrap his arms around Virgil’s back.

“I was going to offer you space and time to recuperate,” Logan said, and Virgil tightened his grip. “I’m pleased to see you are considerably less afraid of me now.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Virgil said quickly, not yet ready to pull away. “I’m not...and I wasn’t, I promise I just...my stupid brain is always--”

“Your brain is not stupid,” Logan chided, and Virgil dropped his arms when he pulled back. “It’s had to learn to keep you alive under very unfortunate circumstances. It’s a survivor.”

Virgil snorted, despite the way his chest felt light at the words. “I mean...I guess so.”

Logan leaned back against the couch, the notebook still open in between them, and he drummed his fingers against his thigh before speaking again.

“Something I need you to understand,” he said. “Is that in the grand scheme of things, the contents of this notebook don’t matter.”

“But it’s--”

“We were correct in assuming that helping you would, in turn, help Thomas. But even if we were wrong, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter if there were benefits, and it wouldn’t matter if keeping you safe negatively affected Thomas. You would never, ever be struck. You would never be beaten or grabbed or screamed at or threatened. No matter the situation. It would never be an option to us.”

There it was again, like he’d heard so many times before but so, so much more intense tonight. The compassion, the dedication, the emotions Logan denied while feeling so strongly.

Virgil blinked away a new wave of tears. “I...I don’t ever want to hurt Thomas.”

“Then it is a good thing this is only hypothetical,” Logan said. “You very clearly do no such thing. I only wanted you to understand that no matter the circumstances, your place with us will never change. You will never have any reason to fear for your safety again.”

Virgil didn’t know how Logan did it, how the side who claimed to be the most alienated when it came to emotional responses, always seemed to be able to make everything right.

The jumpiness and awful paranoia had already almost completely faded, leaving behind a soft blanket of soft fatigue.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and Logan smiled.

“Of course. I’ll remind you any time you need. Would you like to be alone, or would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Virgil smiled, wiping his eyes again. “Can I stay? Please?”

Logan reached out a hand, his own smile gentle and warm, and Virgil knew they’d both be passed out to some old space documentary like they usually did when Virgil had a bad dream.

“Of course, Virgil.”

449 notes · View notes

falsemood · 4 years ago

Text

Ok, Prinxiety singer/celebrity AU

This is basically an entire fic I haven’t written yet

TW: Slight swearing, mentions of trauma/ traumatic childhoods, high expectations, mentions of money issues, mentions of trying to “fix” queer/autistic characters, lying, crying, very emotional moments, feelings of betrayal/heartbreak, anxiety, depression, kissing, mention of food, social media/toxic fanbase, mentions of government, mentions of war, Let me know if more needs to be added.

Reblogs > Likes

Roman and Remus were forced into child acting when they were like 2

Got really famous (and also a lotta bit traumatized because Hollywood)

Whilst a teenager, Roman creates a pop-punk singing career

Songs about societal standards, toxic masculinity, homoph*bia, etc.

He’s a bad ass is what I’m saying

Except really he’s overworking himself because what really is he without his audience and he must always please them-

Anyway

Roman, trying to escape paparazzi or get out of some celebrity chore, ends up in a little run-down diner

The guy serving him is actually really cute and has purple hair and piercings and, oh god, a pride pin on his lanyard

(Can you guess who it is?)

So they actually end up talking for a couple hours, just small chat

Shockingly, Virgil has literal no idea about Roman or his fame

Roman doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it much better that way.

And a couple days later, Roman gets a weird craving for cheap french fries and dirt coffee

It becomes a regular thing, making as many excuses as possible to go to the little diner just to talk to Virgil

Virgil really enjoys the company, because no one really visits the place to use more than the restroom anyway

And because Roman tips generously, both in charm and in, like, a solid 15 dollars.

Subplot: Remus and Janus (who’s also famous, go with it) get awfully suspicious on why Roman always disappears on them and why his music is becoming sappier by the song. They become detectives.

Roman and Virgil slowly start to hang out in different places

Roman always tries to be obscure so he doesn’t get recognized

While on a walk through the corner of a trashy park, the subject of music comes up

Insert sweaty and nervous Roman

But Virgil admits to actually playing ukulele and writing his own, very personal songs

This leads into a rant about his broken childhood, his difficulty of growing up autistic and queer, and trying to just make it financially.

Roman, being very careful about his word choice, talks about heavy expectations, people publicly comparing and judging him, and then basically admits how much he cherishes his time with Virgil.

It’s all very tooth-rotting sweet.

But it gets very late. Being the area that it is, Roman (understandably) gets too terrified to walk back to his car

And he could call and uber orrrrr

Virgil can just offer he stay the night at his nearby apartment

Once there, Roman manages to easily convince Virgil into playing him a song. It’s a slow, optimistic one that’s just full of heart.

Virgil has always used a rough and low voice when speaking, so imagine the shock when his singing voice is practically crystal and silk.

Roman kisses him as soon as it’s done. Yay! First relationship milestone! Besides pouring your hearts out to each other 10 minutes ago.

Remus and Janus continue to be all confused on why Roman has been gone for an entire day now

They’re not very good detectives, actually. They’re trying their best.

Whenever they both have free time, Roman and Virgil spend almost all of it together.

Flirting, laughing, singing and kissing. They learn a lot about their different styles of music.

Virgil’s is much more earthy and romantic, the lyrics are more poetic and subtle. It’s like a love letter to art and human creation.

Roman’s is snappier and dramatic. His instrumentals take a lot of twists and turns that all wraps up beautifully. It’s basically a demand for love and attention.

During this, Roman spends less and less time on social media. His fans get slightly concerned but Roman just mentions a “Special, secret” album in a tweet and they all go crazy again.

It’s not entirely a lie, he fleshes out each of his songs more to something satisfying and touching. It’s still very punk and counter-culture, but it has more of a re-listen ability. He’s very proud of it, even it it takes much longer.

Weird. He feels better about himself when he takes the time and patience to make something good. Smells like character development.

Remus and Janus are still very bad detectives but they like the new music so...

Roman and Virgil would regularly write snippets of songs together as a pass time but they accidentally create something amazing

It’s an acoustic guitar, duet song about two lovers watching the sky as a nuclear war destroys the world. Very classy.

(Let me act like I haven’t already written this entire thing in my head for a second) It’s honestly a very bittersweet and a little edgy song, like a conversation about how the government is destroying something so beautiful but “hey at least I get to spend my last moments with you, babe”.

Roman, being incredibly proud of the song and his boyfriend, records the audio of them singing together

Classic phone hack situation, the entire recording gets out. Idk the story isn’t entirely deep yet, work with me.

Roman’s fans are very excited and intrigued because they can’t tell who the other singer is, his managers are confused because they’ve never heard anything like this from him and he’s just hoping to god Virgil doesn’t find out

Virgil finds out.

Virgil never really used social media, it made him uncomfortable, but when he sees his song plastered in at least 10 gossipy news articles, he had to click it.

Spends the next two days just learning everything about Roman and Remus Kingsley and how his boyfriend is one of biggest celebrities of the year and he didn’t even know???

And now his very, very personal, shared experience with Roman is somehow currently on the same trending page as Global politics

The same Roman who tipped more then he ever needed, Roman who would let Virgil keep his shirts, Roman who would stay up all night to talk about ridiculous conspiracy theories, Roman who taught him to be more direct when pouring his feelings into his songs. His Roman had shared what was possibly the most intimate moment between the two for millions of people to see.

Almost a month, he doesn’t answer the phone and doesn’t leave his home. He tries not to think of it, he gets to scared every time. He tries his best to erase Roman from his mind.

It breaks both of their hearts.

Roman explains very clearly that the song was never meant to be shared. But this only gets the public more interested. He refuses to explain himself on any talk shows, he stops writing music and only explains the whole story to Remus and Janus while crying his eyes out.

The detective squad sets out to find Virgil and break into his house (wth guys)

And they explain everything.

Even knowing the leak wasn’t Roman’s fault, he still feels lied to and scared of what the public now knows of him.

But, as much as it’s terrifying, he still wants to see Roman. He still loves him. *Enter audience clapping*

And so, the meet up in Roman’s house for the first time. It’s big, it’s nice and they drove there in an expensive car. Virgil is very out of his comfort zone.

And the two just talk, again.

Roman “I fell in love with you as soon as you said you’ve never seen me before” Kingsley.

He just rants about how tough child acting was, how his reputation weighed him down, how the public both saw him as someone above them and as entertainment that worked for them. And how he didn’t want Virgil to see him like that, or even worse, for Virgil to been seen like that.

He cries a lot, so does Virgil.

It’s a slow apology, but he’s forgiven.

*End?*

Ok hold on-

Notice how my writing gets choppier as then bullets go on. Yeah, started this at midnight and it is now 4 AM. Fun.

These are

Bonus Bullets

I guess for just points for the story

The conclusion or Epilogue is that they both agree to continue to write and release their own music, but just at their own pace and without unwanted additions like live performances or music videos or promotions.

Logan and Patton should definitely be incorporated somewhere, probably join the detective squad.

I’m a sucker for subplots, especially funny ones. But I think some angst would be good, too. An idea is Remus no longer allowing his parents to force him into movie roles he doesn’t want.

Janus/Patton/Logan could also possibly be Managers in a way? Like father figures to Roman and Remus.

It’s a little blurry, but I have great ideas for Virgil’s backstory. They most include a mother trying to “fix” his “flaws”.

My main issue is that this would be a very long term and slow-written fic, which I am no good at. I can attempt, but really no promises. If someone else wants to use this idea in anyway, I completely encourage. I just wish to be tagged and created for the basis.

Am I asking to be credited for taking Thomas’ @thatsthat24 characters and putting them into my own plot? Yes, yes I am.

Unfortunately, I have run out of tag space. Buuuut, if I need to add any TWs to the beginning, let me know.

And if you read all this....honestly you must have really good patience, I’m getting sick of myself. Thank you, though. 🖤

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izzyfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

Lies Have Never Tasted So Sweet

SHIP: Emceit

CHARACTERS: Emile Picani, Janus Sanders and Remus Sanders

WARNING: Lying, mild sexual implications from Remus, swearing

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez

Masterpost

A Series Of Soulmate AUs Masterpost

Emile was someone who always liked to look on the bright side of things.

He liked to stay positive – to be cheerful and happy as much as possible, for both himself and those he surrounded himself with. Happiness spread happiness, and he was a sunshiny influence on everyone around him.

But sometimes it was difficult to stay positive, with Emile’s soulbond being the way it was. Out of all the different kinds of soulbonds in the world – and there were many, many kinds – the ability to tell when your soulmate was lying was the one that led to the least number of meetings. It wasn’t a way to communicate, nor was it a way for them to track each other down, nor was it a way to identify their first meeting. It was useful for soulmates who’d already met, but didn’t really come in handy when trying to find them in the first place.

It was difficult, sometimes, to stay positive that one day Emile would meet the love of his life.

He tried, though. He tried to be positive and hopeful, and he also tried to be truthful – or stick to little white lies that hurt no one, because he needed to make sure his soulmate could still find him, even if dishonesty made him uncomfortable.

Apparently, his soulmate had no such qualms.

The fireworks that burst in Emile’s chest whenever his soulmate told a lie were undoubtably a good feeling: sometimes making him so bubbly he giggled. But their frequency was often... concerning, as he could never forget that every firework was set off by a lie.

What kind of person was Emile’s soulmate, if they lied so much and so often?

And what did that say about Emile, that that kind of person was his soulmate?

But Emile wasn’t one to judge so quickly. All he wanted was to meet his soulmate, and he knew he’d love them no matter what.

The first thing Emile noticed when he woke up was the firework-like feeling in his heart, earlier than usual, but not too surprising. It happened once. Twice. Thrice. Four times in a row, before it calmed down again, and Emile took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling as he waited for it to start up again.

To his surprise, it didn’t, so he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He patted his bedside table a few times, before finding his glasses and slipping them on.

The fireworks returned once in the shower, startling and causing him to almost slip, though he caught himself just in time.

Twice during breakfast.

(The first happened while he was pouring milk into cereal, making him jolt and spill milk over the side of the bowl.)

And then it didn’t happen again until Emile reached the building he worked at, which was simultaneously both a disappointment and a relief: a feeling which Emile was rather used to at this point. As he approached the front doors, he could hear two young men about his age having a conversation just between the building Emile worked at and the next. They were only a few feet away from him, and talking loudly enough, so Emile overheard them without having to strain to listen.

“Wow, I just love the shirt you have on, Remus,” said a masculine voice, dripping with sarcasm.

The moment the words left his mouth, a firework went off in Emile’s chest, and he paused, his hand freezing halfway to the handle of the door. He swallowed. Was that a coincidence, just some interesting timing? Or...

Another voice laughed loudly, followed by the sound of someone clapping another on the back. “Ha! I see you’re still as dickish as ever, Jan. Never change!”

“And I see your clothes are just as clean as ever.”

Another firework.

Emile turned his head, finally taking a look at the man with either impeccable timing or a soul that would fit his perfectly. He was short, though Emile was, too, with curly black hair, a yellow button-up shirt and a black bowler hat on his head. There was a shiny, coiled snake-shaped earring hanging from the one ear that Emile could see, and he wore a pair of clean, lemon yellow gloves.

His expression was amused, with a half-smirk and raised eyebrows, and he was by far the most attractive man Emile had ever seen. Emile’s breath caught in his throat, and he knew.

He knew.

Well, he figured he should probably check first, just in case he was wrong, but he knew.

Emile pulled his hand back from the door handle. He snuck a quick glance at his watch. There was still half an hour left until his first patient of the day arrived. He let out a sigh of relief. He had time to wait, and listen to the man who he hoped would start lying again.

His eavesdropping was probably incredibly unsubtle, but the man wasn’t facing Emile, his attention fully on the friend in front of him, so he fortunately didn’t notice.

“How is Roman?” Emile’s maybe-soulmate asked his friend.

The friend blew a raspberry. “He sucks! He’s so annoying. Yesterday, he stole my cereal, and then he wouldn’t even admit to it! Asshole.”

The maybe-soulmate clicked his tongue.

“You have my sympathies,” he spoke in that same smooth, sarcastic tone, with a slight hiss on the ‘s’, making his friend let out an exaggerated mock-offended sound, hand over heart.

(Firework.)

“Rude! You know, maybe you’d get laid more if you weren’t such a bitch.”

“I’m sure.”

(Firework.)

“Whatever. Did you know that ducks have corkscrew-shaped penises?”

The maybe-soulmate let out a disgusted sound. “Wow. I’m so glad you told me that.” (Firework.) He then let out a sigh. “Why are you like this?” He asked in a regular tone.

His friend shrugged and grinned at him. “Dunno.”

Emile’s heart was pounding harder and harder with every firework that went off inside of him, so loud that he could feel it in his ears. His hands were shaking and he was sure his staring was probably very obvious. It was a wonder he hadn’t been noticed by the pair, yet, though a mother with her child had given him a weird look as they walked past him.

“Well, as fun as this conversation is-” (Firework.) “Don’t you have work, now? It’ll piss Remy off if you’re late, you know how he gets.”

“Ugh, who cares? Fuck that bitch.”

“You should care, he might fire you.”

“He’s my cousin! He won’t fire me.”

“It’s Remy. You’re annoying, of course he would.”

The tiniest of fireworks went off in Emile’s chest at the word ‘annoying’. Apparently, the maybe-soulmate was fond enough of his friend that he only sort of found him annoying.

The friend huffed and crossed his arms. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

“You should care. If you’re unemployed you won’t be able to afford all that inedible food you like so much.”

“I can eat garbage!”

“Literally, how are you still alive? You’re going to poison yourself and die young.”

Emile waited for a firework that never came.

The friend shrugged again, showing that he apparently had no qualms about poisoning himself and dying young. The maybe-soulmate sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a brief moment as he took a deep breath.

“What am I, your mother?” He asked his friend. “Go on, shoo!” He made shooing gestures with both hands. “Get to work!”

The friend tilted his head back and cackled, but began to walk backwards in the gestured direction.

“Ha, kinky!” He called out as he turned and continued to walk down the street.

“There is nothing kinky about me making you go to work so you don’t get fired,” the maybe-soulmate shouted back, louder than he probably intended, as his expression turned sheepish at the few stares that came his way after that.

He sighed again, and Emile was suddenly struck by the realisation that he really, really needed to talk to this man now, before he walked away, or he might never get the chance to find his soulmate again. And he was now almost certain that this man was his soulmate. So many fireworks at just the right times had to mean something. This couldn’t have just been a coincidence.

He took a deep breath, grounding himself and clenching his hands into fists.

Then, he marched over to the man he hoped was his soulmate – perhaps a little too determined and aggressive, as the man gave him a slightly alarmed, confused look when he stopped in front of him.

The first thing that slipped from Emile’s mouth was a lie.

“My name isn’t Emile Picani,” he said, before cringing internally.

Perhaps that wasn’t the best introduction.

The other man gave him a bewildered look, but the moment the lie came out, his hand shot up to cover his heart.

“What?”

“I- just- hear me out. Humour me. Please lie to me, just- just quickly. I’m testing something.”

Realisation crossed the other man’s face, and his eyes widened. He looked Emile over quickly: a down and up that was over in an instant – just a quick flick of his eyes – but made Emile’s heart beat harder and faster.

“That’s-” the other man breathed. “Okay. Uh... I hate your cardigan.”

Firework.

“I hate your hat,” Emile said back, and the reacting twitch of the other man’s eyebrows at just the right time made him feel like he was floating.

“Your make-up is appalling.”

Firework.

“I don’t like your hair.”

“Wow...” the other man looked back at him with an astonished expression that Emile was sure was mirrored on his own face. “That’s- that’s not a coincidence.”

Emile shook his head. “No, I... I don’t think it is.”

“That’s- you’re my-”

“-Soulmate,” Emile finished.

The other man took a deep breath. “Wow...” he repeated.

“Yeah...”

There was a beat.

Then, the other man lifted and held out one gloved hand for Emile to shake. Emile took it without hesitation, shaking it easily and enthusiastically. Before he could stop himself, the delight that was filling up inside of him bubbled out of him with a giggle, and the other man gave Emile a soft smile in return that made him feel like he could do anything.

Climb a million mountains. Dance amongst a million stars.

It felt like he could do anything, anything he wanted, just as long as this man kept looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“I’m Janus,” he finally introduced himself. “Janus Sanders.”

“Emile Picani.”

Janus’s smile turned into an amused half-smirk. “Yeah,” he said. “I got that.”

“I, um...” Emile trailed off, finally releasing Janus’s hand and adjusting his pastel pink tie. “I have to go – work. I have a patient coming soon, and I have to finish my paperwork before then. But, um... can I get your number, maybe?”

“Absolutely.”

Emile smiled, relieved, especially at the distinct lack of a firework in his chest. The astonishment and enthusiastic smile on Janus’s face spoke for themselves well enough, but it was always nice to know for sure. They exchanged numbers quickly, before pocketing their phones again.

“I suppose I’ll see you around, Emile,” Janus said, speaking his name slowly, like he was tasting and savouring it: like dessert.

It made Emile feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Have a horrible day,” Emile said.

Janus’s smile grew at the resulting firework, making Emile’s matching smile grow, too.

“Have a horrible day.”

(Firework.)

#me #writing #emceit #sanders sides #sanders shorts #emile picani #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #soulmate au #human au #a series of soulmate aus #fluff

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four-rabbit · 4 years ago

Text

Game Night

I don’t really know what this is, I’m just glad I was finally able to finish a sanders sides’ fanfic for the first time.

This fanfic was born from the last video, obviously, and the realization that the creativity twins canonically feel physical pain when their ideas are desregard or their function is “offended” let’s say, which I had to exagerate and turn int angst, of course, so enjoy!

Summary: Remus get sick so frequently that those nights have became his idea of a sleepover.

Ship: platonic dukeceit. Or romantic. You can interpret it however you want

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders and Janus Sanders

Warnings: swearing, kinda grapphic descriptions of pain and sickness, mentions to vomit. Also maybe some umsympathetic Virgil? I don’t see it like that, but I guess it depends on how you interpret it.

Word Count: 1729

Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-----------------------------------------------------------------

If Remus was real, he would be dead.

And if snakes could demonstrate worry, they would make exactly the same expression that Janus had after looking at the thermometer.

"How do you manage to get so bad so quickly?"

"What can I say, being bad is the only thing I'm good at" Remus joked, the words scratching his throat as an unwanted cough came with them. Janus rolled his eyes, trying to seem calm. And falling.

"Any idea what was the cause this time?" Remus' focus went down to the old and familiar sheet, which he fiddled with, avoiding the question.

"How hot am I?" He vaguely pointed to the thermometer.

"You have a 113°F fever"

"Well, fuck. That's a new record" he touched his own forehead, smiling almost maniacally right after "Shit. How long do you think it takes until my brain melts?

"Bold of you to assume it hadn't already" Virgil was the one to answer, entering the room with a bowl of hot soup in his hands.

"Wow Virgil, that was fast " Janus lied, raising an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"I was trying to actually cook something real for once"

"Please don't tell me your burned the kitchen" the half-snake child replied, with some amount of actual fear behind the dramatic hand to his chest and horrified expression.

"Ha ha" pause "...not on purpose" Virgil replied, looking away.

"Yeah, that's my job!"

"Remus, eat your soup, the grownups are talking" the embodiment of Fear interrupted jokingly, even though any of them was older then twelve. Then he turned to Janus again, already guessing what he was going to say "but... it's fine now. I took care of it" Janus made a mental note to go take a look at the damage as fast as possible. They could all be kids, but Janus knew very well he was the only responsible there.

"I don't like it...!" Creativity replied, sounding like a child who doesn't want to eat salad. Janus sighed as his thoughts were interrupted, conjuring a bottle of perfume and poured it in the meal.

"Now eat" and so he did. Virgil raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling, trying not to be so worried. Or at least not demonstrate it. After so many times, he should be used to it, but... well, he was Fear. It was his job to keep track of the worst case scenarios.

"Did he get better?"

"On the contrary. The fever is higher than ever"

"And I also feel like someone ripped my bones out of my skin and then put them back, but like... in the wrong way" Remus added, spilling hot soup all over the sheet and his clothes by trying to communicate with his mouth full.

"So it's one of those nights" Virgil mumbled.

"I'm afraid so"

Remus finished his soup smiling like there was no tomorrow, opening his arms despite how much that simple gesture hurted "Game night while I'm dying!" Janus smiled, with more sadness in his eyes than anything else.

"I'll get the monopoly"

•••

"I won"

"No, you did fucking not" Remus immediately answered, not even looking away from his cards.

"You can see for yourself" Janus showed his game, which clearly meant a victory, indeed. Remus tossed his cards on the sheet like it was their fault. He was so fucking close!

"You cheated" Virgil said sharply, as if it was an undeniable fact.

"Do you have any proof? Janus challenged, not losing a beat or his mischievous smile.

"Yeah. It's the only thing you know how to do" the teenager replied, his tone as cold as a lake in the winter. Janus looked down before he could help himself. Couldn't he keep it down for at least one night? The night Remus needed both of them?

The cards caught fire. It was an accident, but Remus decided to go with that, jumping out of the sheets, trying to ignore the terrible twist that movement gave to his stomach. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he threw up. At least that way these two would stop fucking fighting.

"What the hell?!" Virgil exclaimed, tossing his game away like it was burning. Which was the case, indeed.

"Let's watch a horror movie!" Well, he got their attention.

"Did you need to burn things before saying that?!" Virgil screamed. He was standing and seemed even more distressed.This was a mistake, Janus realized. It was foolish to think they could ignore their differences for the sake of Remus.

"It's more fun this way! What can it be? One of the classics? Some shitty obscure one?" He kept trying, getting out of bed and walking toward Virgil, who walked away from him. Janus immediately got up too, already anticipating the disaster that situation could turn to. A worst one. Because it was already a disaster.

"Please, control yourselves"

"I'm controlled! I'm not the one burning things" Virgil replied, the trace of the tempestuous tongue in his voice proving that he was anything but in control.

"Remus, please. Apologize for burning the cards"

"It's just some stupid paper!

"Now"

"It was a fucking accident"

"We all know it wasn't" Janus almost, almost told Virgil to shut up after that. But he didn't need to make things worse than they already were.

"It was a fucking accident" his voice started getting threatened, his eyes started shining with a red danger "But you know what wouldn't be a fucking accident? if I..." his vision went black, a headache that felt like someone had opened his skull being everything that existed and then not even that.

Anxiety got out of the room immediately after his friend fainted, keeping his gaze to the ground, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stand any amount of time alone with Deceit.

•••

Remus wished he was real, so he would be dead.

He felt like someone had catched his body on fire, then hit his head with an axe, then exchanged his blood for poison and his bones with knives.

"I knew you were stupid, but not stupid enough to try and suggest an idea for Thomas. On your own. After terrorizing him the whole night. Literally hours after recovering from your last..." Janus looked down at his friend, in one of the only moments he didn't try to hide his emotions. Fear. Somebody had to fill the vacancy now that Virgil is gone, I suppose.

"It was..." He coughed blood. "A good idea"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure he thought the same" Janus rolled his eyes. Remus tried to say that he would be fine, but his throat still hurt from the acid of his stomach and the scratching of his coughs.

"I told you to not do anything too dangerous. We are..." he looked down to his gloves which, as he knew, covered up for the scales that apparently had decided that half of his face was not punishment enough. "In a delicate situation, now that..."

"The emo is gone. I know" Remus completed, his voice not much more than a whisper.

"Oh please, no. We are better off without him haunting us all day. If he prefers to deal with them, the only thing I feel is pity" anyone else would have believed that. Remus knew it was bullshit the second those words left his mouth. But he didn't say that. Mostly because he was feeling nauseous again and he learned that, apparently, people don't like if you throw up while trying to talk to them.

Janus stayed in silence for a couple more seconds, then something changed in his eyes and he got up.

"Well, if you need me, I'll be reading" said, but before he could go too far, Remus grabbed the bottom of his coat, deciding to make use of his positions of creativity, as with a snap of his fingers green words appeared in the air:

"It's game night, not a fucking book club"

"I don't think you're able to play games right now"

"I've never been better in my entire fucking life"

The words glitched as his consciousness stumbled.

"Remus"

"You've been reading, studying, planning, whatever every fucking time we were together" he finally was able to find his voice again "Is it me, Virgil, or just you being a dick?

"You need to rest"

"I'm gonna vomit on your shoes"

Janus sighed, sitting again on the bed.

"What do you propose?"

"Truth or dare" Janus never plays truth or dare. The two of them, Virgil and Remus, would play it at any given opportunity, on the other hand.

"Don't test me"

Floating words again: "I'm gonna take it easy"

"You never take it easy."

Remus frowned.

"Ok" the half-snake man sighed "let's find a compromise: I can play Never Have I Ever"

Remus smiled diabolically. So they had a deal.

•••

"Finally! It's been so long since our last sleepover!"

"This is anything but a sleepover" Janus replied, not looking away from his book.

"Yes it is! We're sleeping together not in a sexual way and wearing pajamas.

"I'm not-" Remus snapped his fingers and suddenly Janus had a yellow onesie on. "...I'm not having a sleepover with you. And you're not even that bad"

"But I'll be. And in the meantime... Please play truth or dare with me just this time please please" he said in one breath.

"You already know my opinion about this game"

"I know that you like it! You would always laugh and even participate when me and Virgin played!" Janus flinched.

"That was a long time ago"

"Just two rounds!"

"I..."

"C'mon! You're not gonna lose an arm if you play just one time. And even if you did, you would still have five perfectly good ones left"

Janus hesitated. He knew Remus would get worse. It was obvious by the tiredness in his voice, even when he was so excited. And how pale he was. How deep his eyeshadow appeared, making him seem like a dead body.

He sighed. Remus smiled from ear to ear. Literally.

"Truth or dare?!" Asked as if he was a child whose birthday had come earlier.

"Dare, obviously" Janus said, unable to stop himself from smiling at his friend's happiness, even though they both knew it wouldn't last long.

But that was okay. Because they would have one another. And that was enough. It had to be.

#sanders sides #fanfic #dukeceit #tw swearing #tw vomit #tw sickness #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #rabbit writes

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emy-loves-you · 4 years ago

Text

Snowed In

Janus and Remus get stuck out in the middle of the snowstorm. Patton is the kind stranger that saves them.

Pajamus (Patton/Janus/Remus)

Word Count: 4,718

Warnings: Mentions of Sex, Guns (but no gun injuries), Hypothermia

Masterlist

Janus growled as he trudged through the knee-high snow. “W-why did you believe that it was a good idea to p-play with a gun in the car?” His boyfriend, Remus, merely shrugged, apparently not seeing anything wrong with their current scenario. Janus rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I love you too, Janny-poo!” Even though Remus seemed to have no trouble moving forward, practically skipping through the snowstorm, Janus knew he wasn’t fairing much better.

Janus frowned as another shiver ran down his spine. “We need to find shelter for the night, and possibly a way to call Roman.”

Remus whined, trying to cover up the way his legs buckled for a moment. “Why did you have to bring up my brother? He always interrupts our fun time, even when he’s not here?”

Janus snorted, blinking rapidly when his vision went spotty. “You see this as a fun time?”

Remus giggled breathlessly. “Of course! We’re alone, I’ve got Bertha in one pocket and a condom in the other, and Roro isn’t here to cockblock us!”

“Hello?!” Both of them froze, staring at the pale yellow light in the distance. “Is anyone out there?”

“Over here, Sweetcheeks!” Janus couldn’t even find himself to be mad at his boyfriend giving away their location to a potential serial killer, his vision swimming as he forced himself to stay standing. The yellow light came closer, but Janus couldn’t focus on it, the winter chill seeping through his bones. He heard muffled words before his world went dark.

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When Janus woke up, his first reaction was to shiver violently. He groaned softly, gripping the soft blankets around him. There was a gasp followed by footsteps before a cool hand touched his cheeks. Janus flinched away from the touch before falling unconscious once more.

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This pattern of waking up to shiver before falling back asleep continued several times before Janus regained the strength to stay awake. This time he was actually able to open his eyes, and he was slightly surprised to find the room empty. Seeing as this was the first time he’s been awake long enough to see, Janus took stock of his surroundings.

The room was large, but it was difficult to view it that way, the walls covered floor-to-ceiling with large wooden bookshelves. Each shelf was filled to the brim with books, except for a few shelves clearly missing a book or two. The bed Janus was sleeping in was smaller than he was used to, most likely a double-mattress, with dozens of dark blue and space-themed blankets on top of him. A small lamp sat on the night table next to him, the stars and designs on the body of the lamp appearing to be hand-painted.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Janus’ head snapped to the doorway and he winced, clutching his head as a headache quickly formed. “Oh, don’t strain yourself, please! Here, take this.” Janus felt something being pressed against his lips and he quickly pressed them shut, not trusting whoever was in front of him. “It’s just pain medication, I swear. Here, would you take it if I showed you the bottle it came from?” Janus didn’t move, and the stranger seemed to take that as confirmation. “Alright, I’ll be right back!”

The footsteps retreated but Janus kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore how much his headache was affecting him. As he waited for the stranger to come back, he belatedly realized two very important things:

The clothes Janus was wearing were not the clothes he was wearing out in the snow, and he didn’t know where his clothes or his gun were.

Remus wasn’t there with him.

Janus grunted softly as he forced himself into a sitting position, ignoring how heavy his limbs felt. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, shivering as his bare foot brushed against the nightstand. Just as he was about to try and get up the footsteps returned followed by a gasp in surprise.

“Oh, please don’t get up yet! You’re fever just broke an hour ago and I don’t want you to overexert yourself. Here, I have the bottle they came in.” Janus glanced down at the bottle now in his palm and read the label. “Headache relief, take 2 every 3 hours, no more than 12 in 24 hours.” Janus tried to remember the numbers but his head was still sluggish. He tried to open the bottle, but the child-proof seal proved to be too much for him at the moment. A warm hand covered his own as the stranger opened the pill bottle, their movement slow and obvious as they kept the bottle in Janus’ field of vision.

The pills were gently pressed to his lips once again, but this time Janus opened his mouth to take them. A glass of water was held up to his mouth and Janus drank eagerly, a small stream spilling down his chin. When the glass was pulled away Janus gasped for breath, the cold water making it easier to focus. “...where...am I?”

The stranger turned away and Janus looked up at them for the first time. They were short and on the heftier side, tufts of curly chestnut-brown hair peeking out over a sky-blue turtleneck. “You’re in my cabin, around a 10-minute drive from where I found you, and you’ve been here for almost 2 days now. You and your friend had some pretty bad hypothermia. What were you doing out there in the middle of a snowstorm?”

Janus shrugged. “My friend was messing around and we crashed the car. Where are my clothes? And my friend?”

The stranger turned around and Janus bit back a gasp. Standing in front of him was the most beautiful angel he had ever seen. Soft, round face; a smattering of freckles across pale skin. A pair of wire-framed glasses made their cerulean blue eyes look big and innocent, and plump pink lips formed a little ‘o’ before they answered. “Sorry, I had to change you out of those wet clothes. They’re all clean and dry downstairs in the living room, along with your… other items.” Janus suddenly remembered his lack of weapons and gripped the blankets tighter, suddenly feeling much more exposed. “Your friend is in the room next to yours.” They gestured to the door they didn’t come in through. “The rooms are connected through that closet, and when you’re feeling better I’ll help you over there so you can see him. His fever broke last night, but he hasn’t woken up yet.”

Janus snorted, speaking without fully thinking. “Remus sleeps like a log, he’ll wake up when he’s ready to wake up.”

The stranger gasped, a pretty pink blush dancing across their cheeks. “Oh, how rude of me!” They held out their hand for Janus to take. “I’m Patton Heart, he/him pronouns please!”

Janus tentatively took Patton’s hand, giving him one firm shake before letting go. “Janus, he/him. Remus also goes by he/him.”

Patton smiled and Janus felt his heart practically melting. “Thank you for letting me know!” Janus heard something beeping and Patton gasped. “My soup! I’ve gotta go take care of that.” He rushed over to the door before giving Janus one last stern look. “Don’t you even think about getting out of bed, mister! You need to save your strength so you’ll get better.” He nodded dumbly and Patton smiled, closing the door behind him.

Janus stared at the door for a few more minutes before shrugging, deciding it best to follow Patton’s orders for now. The man didn’t seem threatening, and he didn’t appear to be a threat to Janus or Remus.

Janus groaned as he laid down. “Roman’s gonna kill me. I’ve gotta give him another raise when this is all over.”

Roman was Remus’ twin and Janus’ personal assistant. Janus’ parents had each owned their own successful companies before they passed away, and Janus had made work of expanding them into his own financial empire. Roman gladly took up the job of managing the company behind the scenes, making Janus’ only job to make the big decisions, keep Remus happy, and not get kidnapped. While that third one could be easily solved with a few bodyguards, Janus preferred to just have himself and Remus armed and vigilant.

He had been driving home from a business meeting (he hated having chauffeurs when he could drive perfectly well on his own) when Remus decided to mess around with his favorite pistol, or ‘Bertha’ as he tended to call it, and they ended up crashing the car.

Janus sighed, his eyelids already growing heavy again. Maybe just a few more minutes of sleep…

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It wasn’t until around noon the next day that Remus woke up. Janus had been awake for around 2 hours now and had just finished eating when he heard Remus swearing in the next room. While Patton went to assure Remus that ‘no, you aren’t being kidnapped right now, and no, this is not a sex thing,’ Janus slowly got himself out of bed and made his way through the open door and into the other room. This room was much darker than the one Janus was staying in, with purple and black decor and My Chemical Romance posters on the walls. Patton was facing away from Janus, fretting nervously. Remus was still laying on the bed, whining about how much his head hurt. “My head feels like it just had an orgy with Dwayne Johnson and-”

“Remus.” Janus growled out, and both of them turned to look at him.

“Janny!” Remus whined out, making grabby hands. Janus rolled his eyes and slowly walked over to the bed, putting his hand in Remus’ hair. Remus melted into the touch and Janus smiled fondly.

There was a sigh and Janus looked up to see Patton frowning slightly. “I could’ve helped you in here, you know.”

Janus smirked. “I’ll be sure to ask for help next time.” He then sighed. “We need to call a friend to pick us up. May we borrow a phone?”

Patton frowned, looking away. “I’m sorry, but the phone lines went down last night. And the storm’s still going on strong, so even if you managed to call someone they wouldn’t be able to get here until after the storm let up. But you can stay here for as long as you’d like!”

Janus glanced over to Remus, who just shrugged. Janus thought about it for a few minutes before sighing. “If you’re alright with it, then we’ll stay.” It’s not like there’s much else we can do.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Janus and Remus recovered most of their strength and explored the rest of the house. It was a simple house, with three bedrooms and one bathroom upstairs, and a bathroom, living room, study, kitchen and dining room downstairs. When they made their way to the living room, Janus’ attention was immediately drawn to the dozens of photos that lined the walls. All of them had Patton with two children. One kid was pale and short, probably around 12 years old, with Patton’s chestnut-brown hair but brown eyes. They wore an oversized purple hoodie in most of the photos. The other kid was tall and lanky, probably around 16 years old, with much darker skin and wavy black hair tied in a knot and dark blue eyes. They wore a pair of glasses like Patton’s, along with a polo and necktie in most of the photos. “Hey, Pat?”

“Yeah?” Patton called out before his head popped into the living room, a tray of small sandwiches in hand.

Janus gestured to the pictures lining the walls. “Who’s in these pictures?”

Patton beamed, setting down the tray. “Oh, those are my kiddos! Virgil’s the one in the hoodie, and Logan’s the one with the necktie! They’re just the sweetest little things!”

Remus piped up from where he was sitting on the couch. “Why aren’t they here with you?”

Patton sighed, sitting down. “Well, Virgil’s mom got pretty upset when I came out as bisexual, so we got divorced around 3 years ago. I get to have him all summer vacation and on weekends, while she gets him on weekdays and all winter break. Logan’s technically my godson, but I adopted him 2 years ago. He goes to a fancy boarding school for gifted kiddos out in the city, and he wanted to stay there during the break since Virgil wouldn’t be here.”

Janus frowned, his chest aching at the sad look on Patton’s face. “What are your sons like, Patton?” he asked, not being subtle with his desire to change the subject.

Patton didn’t seem to notice, smiling like a proud parent should. “Oh, they’re the bestest kiddos ever! Logan’s really smart, and he always has fun little facts to share! And Virgil’s really good with music, I don’t recognize most of the songs he plays but they’re still really good!”

Janus smiled, taking a bite of his sandwich while Patton rambled on about his kids. Maybe staying here for a little while wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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“Remus, we are not having sex in a kid’s closet!”

It had been almost a week since Janus first met Patton, and things had been going pretty smoothly so far. The three of them spent most of their time chatting and spending time together. It was obvious that Patton was lonely in this big cabin all by himself, almost as obvious as how attached Janus and Remus were to the sweater-wearing dad. There were very few moments where Janus wasn’t either spending time with Patton or thinking about him. And it was very obvious that Remus was feeling the same way, and that he was trying to find distractions for these newfound feelings.

By having sex in a closet, apparently.

Remus whined, practically throwing all of his weight on top of Janus. “C’mon Jan, it’s been ages since I’ve touched you!” He pouted and batted his eyelashes. “Pretty please, Janus?”

Janus sighed, leaning back on the door that connected the closet to Virgil’s room. They hadn’t told Patton that they were in a relationship, and they were still sleeping in the kid’s bedrooms, so they hadn’t actually had any time together in a while. “Just kissing.”

Remus purred, his hand reaching behind Janus’ head to pull him closer. “Fine by me.” They wrapped their arms around each other, their first few kisses hot and desperate, before melting into slow, languid kisses-

“Eep!” Janus quickly pushed Remus off of him, who fell back on the floor with a quiet ‘oof.’ Patton stood in the doorway to Logan’s room, blushing brighter than a cherry. “I’m sorry- I didn’t- I- I’ve gotta go!” And then he was gone.

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When they eventually got over their own mortification of getting caught and found Patton again, he was perfectly fine, all traces of blush gone. “You should have told me that you two were together!” He chided. “I’ll take Logan’s bed and you can have the bed in my room!”

Janus blushed. “We’re perfectly fine with our current arrangements Pa-”

Patton interrupted, putting his hands on his hips in the ‘I’m the dad, you listen to me’ voice. “Nope, no buts!”

Remus snorted. “Hehe, ‘butts.’”

Patton smiled fondly before continuing. “I’ll be fine in Logan’s room. Besides, that bed’s too big for little ol’ me anyways.” He clapped his hands and spun around towards the kitchen. “Now, who’s ready for lunch?”

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Patton was avoiding them.

Well, avoiding would be the wrong word to use, but Janus didn’t really have a word to fit their current situation. He still ate with them and they still spent hours chatting about anything they could think of. But there were quite a few times where he would get really excited or he would give Janus or Remus a look that would make their hearts melt, but then the light in his eyes would die and he would close himself off. Janus didn’t know what to make of it.

It didn’t help that he and Remus were absolutely smitten with the kind-hearted man. They’ve been sleeping in Patton’s bed for 3 nights now (an alaskan king bed, two big for the two of them, and definitely too big for Patton all on his own), and contrary to what would’ve been expected, they didn’t spend their time getting, ahem, reacquainted with each other. Instead, they cuddled on the too-large bed, whispering about how they felt about the amazing man who slept just down the hall.

They had just finished lunch and Patton had rushed off to clean up the plates, despite Janus and Remus’ assurances that they could clean their own dishes. Janus got up to at least clean up the living room when-

Knock knock knock

Patton stepped back into the living room, his eyebrows pinched as he wiped his hands on a small towel. “That’s odd, no one should be out in the middle of this storm.” Patton opened the door and Janus immediately knew who it was from his voice alone.

“Hello, I’m looking for two men. One looks like me with a mustache and the other looks like he would actually take candy from a baby.”

“Gee, thanks.” Janus called out sarcastically as Remus shouted “Roro!”

Patton came back to the living room with an enraged Roman trailing behind. Roman stormed in and grabbed Janus by his (technically Patton’s) sweater, shaking him slightly. “Where the hell were you?!? I thought you and Remus were kidnapped! I was tempted to send out a search party! You’re lucky that the GPS on you’re car was still working!”

Janus gulped. He had almost forgotten how terrifying Roman can get. Almost. “Relax, we’re both safe and sound, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Roman glared at him before letting go of him with a huff. He then pulled Remus into a hug. “God, don’t scare me like that again.”

Remus chuckled softly. “You know I can’t promise that Roro.” He looked up at Patton’s confused look and pulled away from Roman. “Oh, time for introductions! Patton, this is Roman, my twin. Roro, this is Patton. He’s the one who saved us!”

Roman looked up at Patton and nodded. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Patton. Thank you for saving my brother. And my boss.”

Patton blushed. “Oh, it was noth- wait, boss?”

But Roman had already turned to face Janus. “C’mon, we need to leave ASAP. I had to postpone 3 different meetings to find you, and we can’t launch the new HYDRA TECH product until you officially give the go-ahead.” He looked around at everyone’s faces and suddenly realized that there was something he didn’t know. “...You have 10 minutes before the helicopter takes off.” He quickly left to give them privacy, the shutting of the door the only sound for a while.

“...So,” Patton chuckled nervously, looking away, “you have a helicopter.”

Janus blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… I inherited quite a few companies from my parents.”

“Oh.” Patton frowned. “...Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“Eventually.” Remus piped up. “It’s kindof dangerous, having so much money and so little protection. You can’t say things like that to just anyone, y’know.”

“Right, of course.” Patton didn’t really sound like he agreed though. He suddenly smiled, a smile that by this point Janus and Remus knew was fake. “Well, I guess it’s time to say bye.”

Janus frowned, stepping forward. “Patton-”

Patton held his hand up. “Nope, you heard him. You have important business stuff to go do. No reason to stay here any more than you already have.”

Janus looked hopelessly between Remus and Patton before sighing defeatedly. “Alright. Goodbye Patton.” And he left without another word.

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After a whole week of being away from Patton, Janus was just about ready to throw everything away and run back to him.

The only things stopping him were his company, and the fact that he was pretty sure Patton didn’t like him back. Or Remus, who seemed to have taken it even harder than Janus had. He’d spent the entire week curled up in their room, staring off into space or sleeping. Janus had completely dove back into work, hoping that by the time he was done all of his feelings would be gone.

Roman was the one who put an end to it, slapping a manila folder onto the desk.

“Here’s all the information I could find on the guy you were staying with. Patton Heart, age 36. Has partial custody over his biological son Virgil Heart, and full custody over his adopted son Logan Heart. Worked as a vet for several years before retiring shortly after his parents died 3 years ago. Owns that cabin and stays there year-round. No living family other than the kids. Virgil is homeschooled while Logan goes to Sanders Academy for the Gifted.”

Janus was surprised by the last part. “Logan goes to Sanders Academy?” Janus’ family had been huge donators towards the academy and Janus had joined in shortly after they died, even becoming good friends with the headmaster.

Roman nodded before realizing what was going on. “Oh, no you’re not. I see that look in your eyes. You’re plotting something.”

Janus sputtered. “I’m not plotting!”

Roman snorted. “Dude, that’s your plotting face.” He suddenly grew serious. “Just don’t do anything that’ll hurt my brother, got it? Goodness knows he’s already hurt enough.” And with that he left, leaving Janus to plot.

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Logan Heart was a very good student. He always showed his work, he aced every test, and he never, ever, cheated.

So, when Logan’s counselor arrived to tell him that Headmaster Sanders himself wanted to speak with him, without any warning as to what this conversation would be about, Logan grew to be very, very nervous.

He walked into the Headmaster’s office considering every option under the sun as to why he would be summoned in the middle of the day during winter break. He did not expect to find said Headmaster quietly chatting with the school’s main benefactor, Mr. Hydra.

Headmaster Sanders looked surprised, as if he didn’t expect Logan’s presence (or perhaps he just didn’t expect him to arrive so quickly). “Ah, Mr. Heart, how delightful for you to join us.” He suddenly got up, holding his hand out for Mr. Hydra to take. “I’ll leave you two some privacy. It was a pleasure to see you again, Janus.”

Mr. Hydra smiled, shaking his hand. “The pleasure was mine, Thomas. Tell the mister Remus and I said hello.”

The Headmaster chuckled. “I’ll make sure I will. Yell if you need anything!”

When the Headmaster left Mr. Hydra gestured to the seat next to him. Logan sat down stiffly, not entirely sure of what was going on. “Mr. Hydra-”

“Please, Mr. Hydra was my father.” The man interrupted, waiving his gloved hand. “Call me Janus.”

“...Janus,” Logan ammended, trying to not squirm as he kept eye contact. “I’m not quite sure why I’m here. Could you please explain that to me?”

Janus chuckled. “You’re so smart and polite, just as he said you were.”

Logan felt his lips twitch into a frown. “Just as who said I was?” It was highly unlikely that he was referring to the Headmaster, or any of the counselors. So that only left…

Janus shifted, suddenly looking… uncomfortable? Embarrassed? Logan always struggled with reading facial expressions. “Patton did. He’s actually what I came to talk to you about.”

Millions of scenarios began flying through Logan’s head at once. “What happened to my father?”

Janus waved his hands frantically. “No no no, nothing’s happened to him, I promise!” When Logan finally calmed down, he continued. “My boyfriend and I met your father around 3 weeks ago. We had crashed our car in a snowstorm, and your father rescued us and nursed us back to health. We stayed with him for nearly 2 weeks before leaving.”

Logan nodded. “You needing to tell me this implies that there’s more to this story.”

Janus blushed and looked away. “Yes, well, you see-” He huffed, crossing his arms. “This sounded like a much better idea in my head.” He turned back to face Logan. “My partner and I both developed romantic feelings for your father over the course of those 2 weeks, but we were forced to leave before we could tell him or learn if our feelings were reciprocated.”

Logan nodded in understanding. “You want me to ask Patton if he harbors any feelings towards you or…”

“Remus. And yes, I would be most grateful if you did so.”

Logan sighed, moving his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You do realize that it will be near impossible to do this, right? My father has an extremely difficult time with admitting what he wants. I hope you also know that my father wouldn’t want to enter a relationship that quickly. Contrary to what he might say, he is still rather heartbroken from Virgil’s mother leaving him.”

Janus nodded. “Of course, but I need you to pull every trick in the book. Guilt tripping, ‘innocent’ questioning, doe eyes, whatever you have to do. Surely you must know what makes your father cave by now. And we can take it as slow as needed, I just need to know before we accidentally break our own hearts, or his.”

Logan stared before sighing. “Alright. Do you have a number I can give him?” Janus scribbled off a number and handed it to him. “Thank you. This will most likely take a few weeks, so don’t get upset if he doesn’t immediately call. If I’m confident that he does not harbor any romantic feelings for you, I will call you at the earliest convenience.”

Janus nodded. “Thank you.” He went to get up, but Logan grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him down to face Logan.

“Oh and one last thing. If you do anything to harm my father, physically, emotionally, you name it, my brother and I will find a way to make your life a living hell. Got it?” Janus nodded, not even showing a hint of shock or fear. “Good.”

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It took two weeks for Janus to get a phone call.

It was the most miserable two weeks of Janus’ life. He hadn’t told Remus of his interaction with Logan, not wanting to get his hopes up. So, he spent two weeks glued to his cellphone, desperately hoping for and dreading the inevitable phone call.

He had been in bed when it came. He shot up and answered the unknown number, putting the call on speakerphone and ignoring Remus’ questioning look. “Hello?”

“...Janus?” Remus jumped at the voice but Janus put a hand up to silence him.

“Hello, Patton. I see Logan sent you my number?” Remus gave him a questioning look and Janus just mouthed ‘later.’

“Yeah, he gave it to me a few days ago.” The line went silent for a second. “Is Remus there?”

“I’m here.” Remus croaked out, apparently still awestruck by the thought that Patton was calling them. “What do you need, Pattycake?”

There was a giggle, and Janus felt his shoulders untense from the sound alone. “Well, the storm’s finally let up, and Logan wants me to come visit him at his school. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to meet up for lunch. Not on a date or anything! I don’t think I’m ready for that yet, but-”

“Patton.” Janus interrupted, and the line went silent. “We would love to have lunch with you. Would you like to invite Logan, and maybe Virgil?”

“...Yeah, that sounds really nice.” There was more silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was calm, peaceful, relieved. “How about next Tuesday at 2pm? We can meet up at Logan’s school and choose where to go then.”

“Sounds amazing Pattycake!” Remus called out, a new light shining in his eyes. “We’ll see you then.”

“Alright, bye!”

“Goodbye!” They both called out as Patton hung up. Remus turned to Janus, a large smile on his face as he kissed him. And Janus had just as big of a smile as they kissed. They kissed for hope, for new beginnings, and a chance for love.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @larrymalecsolangelo

#sanders sides fic #pajamus #janus sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders

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lovelylogans · 3 years ago

Text

honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

see other chapters, notes, and warnings here!

chapter one: qualia

qualia: in philosophy and certain models of psychology, qualia are defined as individual instances of subjective, conscious experience. philosopher and cognitive scientist daniel dennett once suggested that qualia was "an unfamiliar term for something that could not be more familiar to each of us: the ways things seem to us.”

JANUS

Janus almost always develops a headache when he has to deal with the latest idiot intern at the firm, but this headache is beyond the pale. Then again, so is this intern. He has never met a uni student that is more destined to become an obnoxiously vocal Tory. It’s like someone granted a novel about Etonian history his wish to become a real boy.

“Out,” he bellows at the intern who has been attempting to stick himself to Janus's side, unable to pick up on the fact that his repeated mentions of his father, you know, the chancellor of the high court, is doing the opposite of impressing everyone around him.

This intern—Janus is going to make it a point to never remember his name now—has probably never been yelled at in his life. He gives Janus a very offended look, sniffs, and retreats from Janus's office, likely to bother whatever barrister he hasn’t yet told about the blatant nepotism that has gotten him into their office.

Janus puts his elbows on the table and pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing slowly in and out. Though the intern has certainly exacerbated the headache at hand, he’s had the headache since he inexplicably woke up at four in the morning.

He’s taken paracetamol, he’s tried hydrating, and drinking caffeine, and rubbing his temples, and even wearing the blue light glasses Key swears by, but there’s been no luck. His head’s throbbing just as badly now as it did when he woke up from a dream about a strange American wearing a pale brown cardigan and a pink tie.

The man had gone pale and sweaty as if he was ill, leaning back against air, clutching at nothing, like he’d hoped to find someone’s hand to hold, but despite the pain he seemed to be in, he’d stared straight at Janus, beaming and wide-eyed.

“I see them,” the man had whispered. He’d opened his free arm as if to offer a hug. “Oh, they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, my dear. My darling.”

You’re beautiful, my dear, my darling…

Janus rubs at his forehead. If he’d been so beautiful and dear and darling, he would have appreciated being left without this migraine as the price of the compliment.

“You,” he barks at the nearest intern walking by his office—a mousy little thing, a girl who’s swimming in a cardigan that makes his eyes throb with a familiarity he can’t recognize—“I’ll let you assist on this case if you get me a tea with two sugars, right now.”

She perks up. “Really?”

“Right now,” he thunders, and the girl practically squeaks before she heads for the building’s refectory with its in-house café.

Janus tries his hardest not to smile to himself, really he does, but the best part of intern season is scaring the interns. What is he supposed to do, not revel in their suffering?

He’s about to reach for his smartphone resting on his desk when he feels a buzz against his sternum.

He pauses, glances toward the door, before he swivels around his desk chair and opens a lower cabinet as if he’s searching for a file; instead, he reaches into his innermost breast pocket to pull out his other phone. This one is a good deal cheaper than the one resting on the table; that is by design.

He glances at the window to double-check the reflections, that no one is watching him—they aren’t—before he unlocks the phone and looks at the message.

K: jazza, you found anything yet?

Janus scowls at the phone. Honestly.

J: Do you want to get arrested, Key? Because rushing this job is how you get arrested.

K: aint that the reason ur a big fancy barrister in the first place

J: Do they want to put up the rush fee?

He turns back to his desk and manages to get some actual, legal, non-shady work done before the phone buzzes.

K: no.

If pixels could look sullen, these ones do.

J: Then tell them to put up or shut up.

A pause.

J: And don’t text me for inane little updates during actual people’s work hours again. You are specifically only to contact me during these hours for emergencies.

He shuts off the phone and tucks it into his breast pocket again before Key can respond. The nerve of some people. He’ll do the work, fine, but people needed to realize they’d get what they paid for. For the information that Key’s clientele wants him to retrieve, they’ll have to put up quite a bit more cash for him to move at anything beyond a snail’s pace.

A knock at the door. Janus gives the girl his most imperious look.

“Here you are, sir,” she says, handing over one insulated to-go mug, keeping another one in her hands.

“Yes, fine, fine,” he says, taking it. “What’s your name again?”

“Emma, sir.”

“Emma,” he repeats. He takes a sip of the tea.

Or, he expects to take a sip of tea. What he gets is a mouthful of coffee.

Very good coffee, very high-quality coffee, but coffee, and lukewarm at that. He pulls a face instinctively.

“What did you get me?”

Emma immediately looks petrified. “Tea with two sugars, sir?”

Janus frowns at her, then examines the side, where the tea option is ticked off. If they’ve managed to mess up the order, at least they’d given him the good-quality stuff, even if it did taste like it had been sitting on a desk for an hour. He takes another cautious sip.

Tea. Sweetened, hot tea, fresh from the café.

He’s never had a headache this bad before. So maybe he doesn’t know that headaches this bad can mess with his sense of smell. And temperature. Now that he thinks of it, he is feeling really quite hot, even though the building’s air conditioning is blasting.

“...Very good,” he says slowly, and then proceeds to nudge a perilously tall stack of manila files toward her. “Read the top one so you can get reacquainted with the case.”

Emma takes the file immediately, and, just for a moment, just for barely a flash, Janus could swear he’d seen someone walking in the hall in their pajamas and bunny slippers in the reflection of his office windows.

He looks at it more directly.

No. It’s just Emma’s reflection and his. Janus's office, furnished in dark woods and leather desk chairs, his fine suit, the damningly recognizable birthmark and scar splashed across his face.

Janus frowns at himself in the window, turns away, and reaches for his own manila file.

VIRGIL

Getting off the plane from America to South Africa is always an experiment in temperature adjustment.

He takes off his hoodie in between the shuffle of getting off the plane to going to the baggage claim, tying it around his waist, leaving him just in a purple t-shirt and his ripped jeans.

It doesn’t help that he’s got a headache that’s absolutely killing him.

By the time he gets there, his baggage is already waiting at the side of a woman with her hair wrapped in a scarf, her glasses resting low on her nose; they look new, and it makes Virgil’s chest hurt—what else has he missed since he’s been across the world?

Virgil’s mother, Andisiwe, beams at him. “Virgil!”

“I’ve missed you, Mama,” he says in Xhosa because ever since he was a child jetting back and forth for school breaks she’s been worried about him losing his mother tongue.

She laughs, hugging him tight and warm, and he wraps his arms around her in kind, closing his eyes tight. This is the longest he’s been from her since he was born. She’d been in America to teach for a year and a half at Johns Hopkins when she’d met his father, and then Virgil happened.

He couldn’t have gone back to South Africa with her, a black woman with a mixed-race child, not during apartheid. His white father had had to bring him home to his white wife, and white children, and initiate what would eventually become a long, messy divorce.

But he doesn’t like to think about that, and he won’t, not today, not when he’s finally back here. He’s missed her, and Pretoria, and his jacarandas, and his grandmother’s recipe for coconut pitha, and umngqusho, and proper, African coffee more than he can say.

All he’d drunk in the States was tea because he didn’t want to be reminded of home; he can taste it lingering in the back of his throat, even now.

“Or should I say, Doctor Virgil Wright-Nkosi,” she says, beaming at him wide, and Virgil ducks his head, grinning even through how awkward he feels.

“I’m a doctor of botany, it’s not the same as you,” or Dad, he tacks on in his mind, taking his suitcase and gesturing her ahead of him; she trades him with a to-go cup of coffee, which he sips eagerly. It’s such a perfect taste of home that he doesn’t even care that it’s lukewarm.

“Quite right,” she says, leading their way through the airport. “Ph.D. is different from an M.D., I’m thrilled my employer has taught you so excellently in your undergrad—”

Virgil laughs, again, but his foot slips on the smooth airport tile, and he looks down instinctively, and his breath catches in his throat, laughter dying in his mouth, freezing where he stands, because if he takes one more step he is going to die he is going to die he is going to fucking die—

There’s this tight feeling across his chest like a band and suddenly he’s not looking down at clean airport tile but he’s looking down at a yawning expanse of air between himself and the ground at least three stories up and he’s standing on a thin metal bar and if he keeps moving he’s going to fall he’s going to die

“Virgil?”

Virgil looks toward his mother, breath seized in his throat, and—

And he’s at the airport again. Bustling crowds, pinging PA system, his mother, a hand reaching toward him in concern.

“Virgil, are you all right?”

Virgil swallows once, twice, squeezes his eyes shut, and shakes his head to clear it; he opens them again.

Airport. His mom. The crowd. And, just a flash, weaving in and out of the people, there’s a big man with tattoos, and he’s wearing bunny slippers. It’s strange enough that it manages to shake him out of it better than any physical gesture could.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice sounds strained to his own ears. “Yeah. Um—jet lag, I think.”

Andisiwe surveys him, before she nods, once, decisively.

“Finish that coffee,” she says. “You know how much worse it’ll get if you let yourself fall asleep now.”

Virgil takes a long pull from his cup—bitter, dark, African coffee. Home. He’s home.

Jet lag, he tells himself. Jet lag, and that weird dream you had on the plane. That’s all this is.

REMUS

“The fucking rat bastard bitch-ass sorry shit-stain of a cunt,” Remus pants to himself, as quietly as he can when he’s heaving for breath and sprinting along the forest floor. Remus wasn’t particularly athletic in the first place—one doesn’t really become a horror author if they’re a star athlete, do they?—but when one is running for their life, things like “stitches in my side” and “is that blood I taste in the back of my mouth” kind of take a back seat to things like, you know, continued survival.

Remus nearly trips over a vine, which he verbally abuses for a few hundred more feet, (“fucking useless pieces of shit fucking—”) before he manages to slip and stumble into the shelter of something like a cave. He checks it—as much as he likes wildlife mauling other people, in theory, it kind of goes against this whole survival thing if he wanders into a cave only to get his throat ripped out by a bobcat.

As he casts back the hood of his jacket and mops his brow of sweat, looking back and forth to ensure he hasn’t been tracked, and his heart rate returns to something like normal, turns his mind back to Miguel fucking Contreras.

That fucking bastard was lucky he was dead, and even so, Remus might go back and dig up his freshly-turned grave with nothing but his own two fucking hands and he’d gladly break a hundred of his fingers and turn his knuckles into right-angled wrongness just to reach in there and grab his rotting corpse and wring his neck to kill him again.

He didn’t even kill him the first time, that’s the unbearable thing! He’d wanted to kill him and someone swooped in and did it before Remus ever could!

Remus spits on the ground, furious, and even more furious that everything with him is so vital he can’t risk destroying any of it in a rage—his clothes, his last couple testosterone pills, a burner phone he’d stolen off someone who reminded him of his own wretched abuela a couple cities back and kept shut off ever since. She’d been yelling at some homeless kids trying to get some pesos for a goddamn meal, though, so Remus felt as if he’d performed a public service by making her day worse.

He’d managed to snatch her purse and empty it out, too. The kids got a meal, Remus got a meal, everyone won.

Remus chances a peek around the forest once again, just to ensure he hasn’t been tailed, and—

He shrinks back into the cave at the sight of a large man jogging by. He’s very big, very tall, very tattooed, and very confused, by the looks of it. Like he’s sleep-walked miles into the forest and now doesn’t know his way back.

The man pivots on his foot, walks out of Remus's view behind a tree, and doesn’t resume walking again.

Remus's eyes narrow. He tenses his muscles, ready to start sprinting again, but that man had looked rather big and strong, and therefore much more decisively athletic than Remus.

But minutes pass, and the man doesn’t emerge again.

Remus creeps out, just enough to see past the tree, and—

No. The man is gone.

Anyone else might think that they were losing it. Anyone else might think that they were going crazy.

Remis is fully aware that he’s crazy, though, so he shrugs and returns his attention to sorting through his bag, except—

His fingers run through the money he has, and they aren’t pesos anymore. Remus frowns at the sight of the money, holding it up to the meager light to see it.

There definitely isn’t an old white lady on pesos usually.

“The fuck?”

“Erm.”

Remus whips his head around, very suddenly aware that he isn’t in a cave anymore.

He’s in an apartment. A swanky apartment. The air conditioning is blasting—Remus hasn’t been in air-conditioned surroundings for so long, and he nearly melts under the feel of it, cooling the sweat coating his face, running down his back.

A white man lowers his glasses down his nose and frowns at Remus. The way his mouth moves twists up the scar on the side of the face. He’s holding up a handful of pesos.

“Well, first of all, I really need to send a note so they improve security around this place,” the man says in an undertone. Then, “second of all, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to need those pounds to pay for my takeaway.”

Remus stares.

“I’ve ordered Indian food to my office,” he continues, “and I’d think that they’d prefer the national currency in exchange for my food. I’ve been craving samosas something awful.”

Samosas do sound good. Any food sounds good, Remus thinks, as his stomach growls with envy.

Remus slowly extends his handful of the old white lady money. The white man places the pesos into Remus's hand, taking his money back at the same time.

“Much obliged,” the white man says and disappears.

Remus blinks down at his handful of pesos, then looks around. No more air conditioning, or swanky office, or promise of takeout.

He shakes his head.

“If I hadn’t lost it before,” he mutters aloud and goes back to counting his money.

Well. It’s not like Remus's brain is any great loss.

LOGAN

Logan gives a cursory peek through the telescope and grumbles, pulling back and rubbing his forehead. Fantastic. On top of this untimely migraine, his equipment has decided to throw a tantrum, too.

He’s known technology can be fiddly even in the best of conditions. He’s known that cold can adversely affect equipment. And yet, for some reason, it is still constantly frustrating when it does happen. Which in turn is frustrating; he should expect cold conditions to interfere with any equipment that he uses for his space research. He’s in Antarctica.

Logan makes effort to simply narrow his eyes at the telescope before him, fiddling with the lens. He has half a mind to ask it there, will you behave now? but considering it is simply scientific equipment, it will not answer. Therefore, there is no reason to speak.

Logan rubs his forehead again, and, for the brief moment before his hand obscures his eyes, he sees a flash of something.

Logan squints, lowering his hand. But no, he decides; he just sees snow, rock, the local wildlife.

But for a moment he could have sworn, while he was looking out at the sea, that he’d seen a large, tattooed man looking out at the sea, too.

No, he decides. It couldn’t have possibly been; this headache, coupled with the general brightness of the world right now, is making him see things.

There is no way he’d just seen, in the midst of an Antarctic island, a large, tattooed man in pajamas and bunny slippers.

ROMAN

Fuck if it’s not early, but fuck if he’s not having a blast.

“Do we wanna run it one more time?!” Roman hollers down from the catwalks.

“I should’ve known better than to give you a fly scene,” María says ruefully. Roman blows down kisses from where he’s strapped in, harness tight across his chest, the camera crew looking dutifully to María to see what the verdict is.

A long pause. She sighs and waves a hand. “Set up for the close-up landing!”

Roman whoops to himself, shifting on his own two feet. He never gets to do stunts, much less stunts like this. All his movies are machismo, punching people and firing guns, and sure, this one is full of all that, but at least this time he gets to spend a day flying around on wires like he’s a superhero.

Which is ironic, considering he’d started his career in movies as a stuntman. But now his pretty face is too high-market-value to risk it doing the thing he’s been trained to do.

But whatever! Today he gets to fly around! Today he gets to throw himself into saying his lines! Today he gets to throw himself into his script and his acting and his costars!

Today he gets to spend it on set and not lying in bed taken down by this godawful migraine and scrolling through his phone with his heart in his throat to see if there are any developments in the news!

Today he gets to tell Sasha all about the day he’s had in his usual bright and happy voice! It’s a great day!

Roman shuffles on his feet, waiting for the “action!” to be called when he hears the tell-tale rumbling shriek of a plane flying overhead, and Roman bites back a sigh; that’s going to delay the shoot of the scene for sure while they wait on that, so Roman slumps, looking for something to occupy either his hands or his brain with, but then—

“Quiet on set!” María barks.

“We aren’t going to hold for the plane?” Roman asks, confused.

“What plane?” María says.

“I thought—” Roman says, and frowns; from where he is in the catwalks, he can’t exactly look up and see the sky, but even then the angle of sound seems wrong; it’s like he’s walking past an airfield, planes taking off and landing all at once.

“Never mind,” Roman calls down weakly. “Thought I heard something, must have been tech stuff.”

María looks up at him, eyes narrowed briefly before she shrugs, and repeats, “Quiet on set!”

Roman shakes out his shoulders, intent on getting into the mind of Pablo Márquez, and out of his own.

⁂

Roman’s got an icepack under his shoulder and on his forehead, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Okay, so, maybe he got a bit too into it today. Whatever. It’s not his fault he’s stuck with a killer migraine, and it’s definitely not his fault that the person who fastened his harness clearly didn’t know what he was talking about; you’d think that now he was the big star, people would be more cautious with him than they were when he was a stuntman, but what does Roman know? He’s just the pretty face.

But whatever. He’s got a breather for a while as his costar shoots a few scenes with her supposed father (a twist of the movie is that her father is not, in fact, her father) and so he’s taking the time to sit and relax.

He’s going to relax.

Really.

...oh, who is he kidding. Roman immediately rolls to grab his phone from where he’d set it on the minuscule table in his trailer, and loads the page to El Universal.

He’s got the search down to a science, really. He starts with the wider, more professional news sources—ergo El Universal—and then gradually meanders his way down, through the magazines, then the tabloids, then the blogs dedicated to the writings of R.J. Duke.

When he’s really desperate, he checks Twitter.

He turns out to be really desperate every day, though.

He isn’t really sure how not to be desperate when one’s brother is on the run for committing murder.

He definitely isn’t sure how not to be desperate when one’s brother is only revealed to not be his brother under a thin guise that someone might find out any minute.

He absolutely isn’t sure how not to be desperate when any day now, someone will crack it, and they’ll raid his apartment to see if Roman was hiding him (Roman would absolutely hide him if Remus would just come to him) and ask him questions, and how is Roman supposed to respond when they ask him if Remus would be capable of murder, no? Fucking obviously Remus would be capable of murder.

And the thing is, he is desperate. He’s desperate to get news of how Remus is doing, where on earth Remus is, if he’s okay.

And then he wonders what kind of person he is, to be so willing to set aside that his brother might have killed someone. He’d like to think that he’d do the right thing and turn Remus in, but he is also sure that he absolutely wouldn’t.

But the question is, does Remus know that? Does Remus know that Roman would throw everything, everything—his fame, his fancy apartment, his money—just to be sure that Remus was safe, that Remus was with him?

They’d been so entrenched in their petty disagreements over the years that Roman isn’t sure that Remus does.

The thought that his brother might not know Roman loves him is a thousand times more painful than this headache will be.

Remus is his brother. His twin brother, the only person in the world who understands Roman; for all their differences, for all their disagreements, he and Remus have always understood each other. They’ve always been on a wavelength no one else has, in sync and in step with each other. They’d even been born at exactly the same time, by virtue of their mother’s c-section.

How is Roman meant to just set that aside?!

So he lies on the couch in his trailer, scrolling obsessively through a Twitter search of his brother’s pen name and his legal name and his actual name, eyebrows drawn together further and further.

He’s so lost in chasing down clues, he doesn’t even notice the large, pajama-clad man appearing in his trailer and disappearing again, between five blinks of the eye.

PATTON

The view in front of Patton is crystalline and beautiful, dark gray rock and snow a blindingly clear shade of white and the ocean, constantly shifting between deep, lovely blue and bottle-green depths; ice, and rock, and the sun glinting off the sea and the snow, so bright that it almost hurts to look at it.

It’s so lovely that Patton would gladly spend all day looking at it, if not for the deep chill working its way into his bones as if he’s been here for months instead of minutes. Which is kind of confusing, but he doesn’t think his flannel pajamas and bunny slippers probably don’t make the cut of approved winter gear, so that might be it.

And also the part where Patton went to bed in his apartment in Auckland because of his blindingly bad migraine, and he has woken up in some wintry wasteland. That part’s kind of confusing him, too.

There’s a particularly sharp gust of wind, and Patton squints, turning his face away and lifting his hand. The breeze lessens, and Patton lowers his hand.

He’s in an office.

A nice office, the kind with hardwood floors that would click under his feet if he weren’t wearing slippers and the big, floor-to-ceiling windows that speaks of a recent, expensive renovation, a door ajar. He walks forward to peek into it—

—and finds himself looking inside of a cramped little trailer, a man flung out dramatically on the couch, one arm over his forehead, not able to cover the anguish on his face, and the other scrolling through his phone.

He takes a step forward, and just like before, without any sense of transition, just one blink and he’s not in a trailer anymore, he’s outside, standing at the foot of a mountain stretching for forever above him, moving quickly on his feet, jogging alongside a hooded man sprinting down a barely-worn path—

He takes a step forward, and his foot lands on the carpet.

“Goodness,” a man says, with a familiar, amused tone. “You’ve been walking quite far, haven’t you?”

Patton looks up to see a man—the parent he’d thought he’d seen yesterday. He’s in the same cardigan and dress shirt, looking rather rumpled, but his tie has, at least, been loosened from around his throat. The lights are off, the only light filtering weakly through the windows. The man is lying down in his bed, looking pale and sickly.

The room would look quite depressing if not for the laptop blaring a cartoon—an American one Patton doesn’t know—and various assorted cartoon art and sculptures as clutter around the room. His duvet has a subtle pattern that Patton, after tilting his head, looks a bit like gemstones.

“...I think so,” Patton says cautiously. “But it doesn’t feel like it.”

“No, it never does,” the man says, smiling. “Even when you’ve walked halfway ‘round the world.”

For lack of anything to say—other than who are you, what’s happening to me, what on earth is going on—Patton keeps quiet.

“I like your tattoos,” the man continues.

“Oh, thank you,” Patton says, twisting his arms so that the cardiganed man can see them, swelling with pride. They are a big part of his culture, his history, himself, after all. “They’re tā moko.”

“Tā moko,” the man repeats as if committing it to memory.

“I’m Māori,” Patton adds because he can place the accent now—American. And, well, nothing against Americans, it’s just that he isn’t sure how much the average American knows about the indigenous populations of other continents.

“Indigenous to,” the man says, and his eyes narrow for a moment. “New Zealand, right?”

Patton nods to the man, before he says, “Where am I?”

“Oh, excuse my manners, please sit down,” the man says, gesturing to an empty spot on his comfy-looking bed. Patton sits. It is comfy.

“I’m just so excited, you see, I’ve spent most of the past day recovering, so you’re the first one I’ve met. I’d expect you to be recovering, too, this is either a fortunately-timed fluke or you seem to be getting the hang of this very fast. Doesn’t your head hurt?”

“Terribly,” Patton admits, then, “First of who?”

Before the man can answer his question, his brain flashes with images from today—an airport, dark catwalks, a yawning cliff face, that fancy-schmancy office.

“Well,” the man says. “I’m Dr. Emile Picani.”

For whatever reason, it feels like he should have known that name already; his name slips into Patton’s mind like a key turning a long-forgotten lock.

“And,” the man continues, “you’re technically wherever your body is now.”

“Auckland.”

“Auckland,” he repeats. “Patton the Māori from Auckland. Oh, how wonderful, I don’t think I know any of our kind anywhere near Australia or New Zealand yet.”

“Our,” Patton says, and his brow wrinkles. “Our kind?”

“Patton, my darling,” Emile says warmly, leaning forward to put a hand on Patton’s. “Have you been walking around in other places? Feeling things that aren’t there, seeing people that aren’t there?”

“Yes,” Patton says.

“Those would be your cluster,” Emile says, and the word buries itself deep in Patton’s heart with an aggressively radiating kind of warmth, instantaneously fond, like he’s loved them all along but just now realized it. My cluster. It may as well be my family, that’s how much love he feels.

“Your body is in Auckland, still, but right now, your mind? You’re visiting me in Florida.”

Patton can’t help but smile a little. “I’ve never been outside of New Zealand before.”

Emile smiles back at him, warm and comforting, and it feels just as familiar as looking at the face of his father.

“Patton, dear, you are no longer just you.”

REMY

Remy turns from where he’s making a mug of green tea to see that he’s in Emile’s room.

“Babe,” Remy says, reflexive, before he sees the look on Emile’s face; and he understands immediately.

“Fuck, are they still here?”

Emile, still smiling, shakes his head just a touch regretfully. “You just missed him.”

That piques Remy’s attention. “Him? You’ve got a son?”

“He’s not technically my son,” Emile says bashfully; they swap, effortless after so long, and Emile takes a sip of Remy’s green tea using Remy’s hands, Remy’s ] mouth. Remy takes that time to use Emile’s body to settle more comfortably in the bed, and he places a cool, wet washcloth across Emile’s forehead.

They swap back without losing a beat; this rhythm between them has existed for a decade, Emile’s psychic birth isn’t about to trip them up. Sure, it looks different to him than it does to Emile; right now, to Remy, it’s like Emile’s curled up in his Nicean apartment, just at home in France as he is in Florida. To Emile, he knows, it’s like Remy’s appeared in his bedroom, oddly dressed for the Florida spring.

“Your psychic son, then,” Remy teases, then it clicks. “Wait, you’ve seen one of them already? How long did it take one of us to see Harley after the activation—?”

Emile waves a hand in a so-so type gesture. “Linny saw Dalisay and she kind of served as a mentor for her, didn’t she? That was the closest to a non-cluster visit that we got.”

“And that was after three days or so,” Remy muses. “Hm.”

“Yeah,” Emile agrees. “I dunno if it’s a fluke or if Patton’s just really well-adapted for this life.”

“Patton,” Remy repeats.

Honestly, he isn’t really sure how to handle this; the closest he could get to preparing for his boyfriend’s psychic birth is googling things about being a stepdad, and that’s not even slightly close to what’s actually happening. Bonding with the stepkids can only really happen if Emile’s lucked into a cluster with a Frenchman, Frenchwoman, Frenchperson, whichever.

Emile quirks a brow at him, knowing what he’s about to ask. “New Zealander.”

“Fuck,” Remy says. “No in-cluster education for Patton, then. Do we know anyone there, baby?”

“I’d have to check with the Archipelago, and, well,” Emile says, gesturing vaguely to himself; he’s laid out in bed, and, with the washcloth on his forehead, he really does look quite ill. Out-of-cluster visiting might be too much of a strain right now.

Remy frowns, taking the washcloth in hand and gently dabbing Emile’s forehead.

“Tell me about him?”

Emile beams.

“Oh, Remy, he’s wonderful. Simply fantastic! He’s Māori—indigenous population—and he’s got all these interesting tattoos. I’ve been researching, look,” Emile says, tilting his phone so that Remy can see.

Remy takes it. He sees swirling designs, up and down arms and legs, neatly segmented lines filled with various patterns, a few portraits of tattooed faces.

“—the tattoos themselves have a really interesting history, but I have a lot of reading to do when it comes to the Māori population itself. I've already tried to put a few books on hold at the university library.”

“What’s he like?”

“Big, tall,” Emile says, gesturing vaguely with a hand where the top of Patton’s head would compare with his own. “It’s late there, or early, I think, he was still in pajamas. Bunny slippers.”

Remy smiles at that, knowing for a fact that Emile’s wearing his knee-high muppet socks. “Takes after you, then.”

“Maybe,” Emile admits, then, “oh, all right, probably. We have a lot in common, at least, even if we don’t have any solid evidence on if cluster parents influence the traits of their cluster.”

“Influence, schminfluence,” Remy says.

“But he seems very nice, very polite. Wasn’t too shaken by appearing in America.”

Emile’s brow creases.

“I think he needs a cluster,” Emile says, very quiet. “I think he needs them badly.”

Remy isn’t sure what to say to that, so he puts a hand on Emile’s cheek, attempting to check his temperature.

“Harley should have given us the equivalent of psychic sex-ed,” Remy mutters irritably. Emile’s skin, always soft, is warmer than Remy would like.

Emile yawns. “Not gonna disagree with you there.”

Remy tugs up Emile’s blankets to tuck him in. Emile smiles up at him, a little bashful, a lot sleepy.

“Cuddles?” Emile mumbles, holding out his arms, entreating.

And, well. What is Remy gonna do, not cuddle his incredibly adorable boyfriend recovering from psychic birth?

#my fic #my fanfic

7 notes · View notes

imma-potatoo · 4 years ago

Note

Roman + interrogation as a sequal to the Remus + framed fic perhaps?

Holy shit this took a long time... It's hurt/comfort tho

@badthingshappenbingo

Send me a prompt with a character! No romantic prinxeity, r*mr*m, U!Janus or U!Logan please!

Masterpost Takes place after this fic

Warnings: blood, shouting, arguing, child abuse (in passing), mentions of death (in passing), swearing, crying (It's a baby), bolded text, U!Roman, not taking care of yourself?, ask to tag

Words: 4k

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Red Eyes

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It had been a mouth.

It had been a single mouth from when Patton opened the yellow side’s door and saw his new friend slaughtered beyond recognition. The door was still there. Blood still stained his carpet, dust collected on his items because they didn’t have the heart to pack his things away. His name became a word that was never said, never whispered, never hushed. But it was always thought. They couldn’t go a single day without imagining his smile, or his laugh, or how his scales gilded against his cheekbones with the smooth grace that shouldn’t be humanly possible.

He was beautiful. But beauty is often destroyed by people who process envy in their hearts.

Even now, as Patton tried to convince a cranky baby to eat his damn apple sauce, he still thought of the yellow side.

Patton let loose a heavy sigh as he put the bowl down with a click on the highchair. Anwir wouldn’t stop crying, the small side was letting loose heartbreaking sobs as he banged on the flimsy plastic tray, his face turned up in a sour expression.

Patton sniffled, his eyes clouded with tears and bright red from a round of crying a few hours ago. “C’mon kiddo… you gotta eat something! Growing snakes like you need food!” Patton’s pleas fell upon deaf ears as the child only cried harder. Patton huffed, playing with the full spoon in his hands. “Anwir…. please?”

The child didn’t even spare him a glance. Only screaming louder. Patton rested his head against the table, letting a few sobs escape as the hatchling screamed his heart out.

To be fair towards the cyan side, he hadn’t raised a child for a good two decades. Logan was the last toddler in the light household, and he was a lot easier to deal with than Anwir. Logan just wanted toast with a bit of Crofters on top of it. That was it. All he wanted. Anwir refused to eat anything that wasn’t up to his standard and this child was very picky. His food cannot be touching, absolutely no green beans, anything bitter was a no, not to mention his insisting that his food cannot be boiled under any circumstances.

Patton had completely collapsed to the table, the only sound being the baby’s cries and the occasional sniffle from him.

“Uhhh, you alright there popstar?” Patton raised his head, ears full of cotton as Anwir continued his protests, the right side of his face a bright red compared to his yellow scales, although the scales did have the occasional blue one mixed in with the buttercup color. Virgil stood in the doorway, phone in his hand. His eyes flickered momentarily to the baby, “What’s wrong with the child?”

Patton sighed, glasses fogged as he spared a glance to Anwir, “he won’t eat his food and has been crying for half an hour. I don’t know what to do! I tried giving him an orange!” Patton looked back to the screaming child in a Stitch onesie, “which he threw on the ground….”

Virgil huffed a small laugh as he snatched Anwir from the highchair, “Maybe he needs a nap.” Anwir was squirming in Virgil’s hold, bitter noises leaving the smaller side, “huh, that’s not…. Normal…”

Patton stood and walked next to Virgil, the two locked concerned eyes as they looked at deceit Anwir. “We need to get Logan,” Patton muttered under his breath as he bolted up the stairs to find the logical side.

Virgil bounced the tiny side while trying to quiet his tears, “sh, sh, it’s ok Anwir.” The purple side paced back and forth, eventually leaving the kitchen to take the side to the living room. Anwir was normally fussy, but not like this.

Virgil sat on the couch, placing the side on his lap, “What’s with you today?” Virgil bounced the ten-month-old on his leg as he waited for Logan and Patton to come back, humming the same lullaby that Ja- that he used for him.

Logan and Patton were back in less than five minutes, Logan looked like he was torn from his work (if the pencil behind his ear was any indication) Logan huffed a breath and looked at Anwir.

All of them had different ways to cope with his death. Patton threw himself in completely into caring for the newest member, even sacrificing his own health to tend to the child. Virgil locked himself in his room, only occasionally coming down to take care of Anwir while Patton was sleeping. Roman pretended everything was ok, the red side was always seen with his signature smile and witty comments. Logan dived into his work, hardly able to look at the new side. And Remus… no one knew what Remus was up to. Nor did they care, Remus was the entire reason he was gone.

Anwir hissed, hissing was a new thing, and he only did it when he was in pain. Logan raised an eyebrow, “Did he fall off the couch again?” grimacing at Patton’s disagreement.

“No, he’s been with me all morning… well! Roman did take him for a walk earlier!”

Logan nodded as he reached forward, unzipping the onesie that covered the scaled child. Tears leaked down Anwir’s face as the other three side’s eyes widened with horror and anger.

Bruises ran down the child’s ribs, colors of fuchsia, a deep puke yellow that was speckled underneath red splotches, followed by small cuts all over his chest. A single scale was ripped from its place. Streams of blood flowed down Anwir’s chest from the ripped out scale, it was close to his skin on the other half of his body. Meaning that a portion of skin was brought with the scale when it was torn out.

The three felt anger bubble in their stomachs. This wasn’t Remus. It couldn’t be Remus. Remus was locked away in the dark.

But here is the newest member of the family, with cuts and bruises covering his flesh. Eyes filled with tears and a look of betrayal. This child had trusted so much, wide eyes that wanted to learn everything, see everything, touch things that he was meant to leave alone. And now he was covered in blood and bruises. Just like Janus.

Anwir’s existence meant a tragic end for a friend. But it also meant a new chance. They loved Janus, but he had problems. He trusted little, he hid things, he put others' health before his own under the guise of doing his job. Anwir was a chance to make things right. And someone ruined it.

Patton gritted his teeth as Logan ran to get the medkit. Thoughts ran through his mind over who it could be. It wasn’t Virgil, Logan, or him. Roman wouldn’t do something like this… would he?

Logan started to bandage Anwir’s wounds, pressing a kiss to the child’s forehead between each bandage, causing the child to giggle as he reached for Logan’s glasses. Patton chewed on his lip before making his decision, sparing Virgil a glance. The purple side nodded as Logan fought the baby for his glasses back.

“Roman! Kiddo! Come down here!”

Angry footsteps were heard from upstairs. A door slamming only caused the baby to cry once again, Patton looked back towards Virgil and Logan.

Logan was chewing inside of his cheek, his eyes slightly glazed over with tears as Anwir screamed when the anti-septic hit his wounds. Virgil was pacing back and forth, unsure what to make of the situation.

It was a few seconds later when the boastful prince walked down the steps with annoyance, his feet dragging against the wooden steps and his breath heavy. Roman hit the last step and turned to face the father figure, “What?” Roman hissed through his teeth with a sneer.

Patton steeled his expression and drew a steady breath. “Logan, take Anwir to his room and then come back please.” The blue side nodded and picked up the crying child and carried him up the stairs. The cyan side noticed the glare that Roman gave the yellow child.

Patton locked eyes with Roman, his son, he raised Roman from the very second he split from the King. “Where did you take Anwir on your walk?”

Roman raised an eyebrow and leaned against the banister, “I took him to the forest in the imagination. He liked the squirrels.” Roman shifted his gaze over to Virgil, only to be met with cold eyes, “why do you ask padre?”

Patton drew a slow breath, he had to keep calm. “What did you and Anwir do on your walk?”

Roman furrowed his brows in thought, his posture was rigid, burning green eyes bore into the fatherly side, “I don’t think you need to know that, pops.”

Silence spread throughout the living room, Logan came back down but the quiet didn’t break. The clock ticked on the wall, filling the quiet room with an ear-shattering noise. Cyan, blue, and purple eyes bore into green ones. Time fell away as loud crying could be heard from the child’s nursery.

Patton sighed, “Vir-”

“I’ll get it, Patton,” Logan shot a dirty look towards Roman before he left the room.

The room stayed quiet for a few minutes. A treaty of stillness, before Patton broke it, “You killed him, didn’t you?”

Roman took his eyes off the carpeted floor, “Of course I didn’t! What a ridiculous accusation! I would never take Janice away from us!” Roman’s composure was growing sloppy, far too cheerful, his green eyes showed too much happiness for someone just accused of murder.

“You can drop the act dude. We saw what you did to Anwir.” The purple side stood stiff, his eyes glowing with hostility, “You can’t possibly think that we’re buying that ‘he did that to himself!’ when he can barely even walk yet.” His voice leaked the mocking tone as he took fast-paced steps to the red side, “ADMIT IT. YOU KILLED HIM. YOU KILLED JANUS.” Virgil was inches away from Roman’s face, his canines bared as he hissed his threat in the red side’s face

Roman pushed Virgil back, his facade not even wavering as the purple side stumbled, “NO! I didn’t fucking kill the snake!” he pushed his hair back into its position, combing back fly-aways. “I mean- Come on emo! Would I do such a thing?”

“We know what you did Roman!” Patton’s voice was cracking, tears filling his eyes, “We saw Anwir’s bruises! You were the only other one to be near him today! We kn-”

“Well, maybe you killed him! Huh! With all that guilt-tripping you do, I wouldn’t be surprised if you killed the asshole because he didn’t fit your “perfect family” I bet you put those bruises on the brat too!”

Patton choked on his voice, tears sprang to his eyes as he stumbled backward. “Wh-what?”

“Roman!” Virgil growled as the red side pushed down a smirk

“What?! If we’re going to be blaming the innocent here then we might as well look at someone who spent more time with Deceit than anyone else! Not to mention that he has been Anwir’s primary caregiver! He could have killed Janus and given Anwir the cuts when no one was around! There’s plenty of knives to rip out that scale too!” Roman could feel his pride building, his hubris starting to sour towards the clouds.

“Cuts?”

And like Icarus, Roman fell.

“Duh! He has like twenty cuts running down his chest.”

“Roman. We never mentioned him having cuts, let alone on his chest. Or that one of his scales was ripped out either” Virgil narrowed his eyes, he ground his tongue against his canine.

Roman faltered, “I-”

Patton wiped his eyes, “just admit it kiddo. You killed him.”

Roman blinked, he focused back on the carpet. Blinking as he realized what we had just admitted to. His crocodile tears melted away as he smiled and pulled himself higher. “Fine. I did it. I killed him.” Roman looked straight into Patton’s eyes, “Is that want you wanted?”

The red side started to pace back and forth, a manic grin spread on his face, “And you wanna know something? I would do it a million times! I would pay anything to see the fear spread into the “Great Janus Sanders” eyes again!” Roman breathed deep and let loose a small laugh, “You don’t get it… Janus was bad for Thomas! He’s a liar! Liars are never good! yoU JUST NEED TO SEE THAT!” Roman screamed, his voice carrying across the house, “I’M HIS HERO! I’M HIS HE-”

The thunk of a duffle-bag hit the bottom steps, landing right at Roman’s feet and stopping his lies. Roman looked up to see Logan at the top of the stairs, holding Anwir in his arms. The child was now dressed in a new onesie and now had a stuffed frog in his grip. Logan however had tears leaking steadily down his cheeks as he rubbed the child’s back in a soothing manner

Anwir was trying to give Logan his frog for his attempt to comfort, “Fra!”

“Frog.” Logan corrected the child without having to think of it as he descended the steps.

Logan stopped in front of Roman, “Your stuff is in the bag. Get out. I refuse to have a murderer in this household.

Roman blinked, mouth gaping open slightly, “Lo! C’mon nerd! You don’t mean that!” Roman reached forward to touch Logan on the shoulder, his expression turning sour when Logan backed up out of reach, “Loga-”

“Just go!” Anwir looked at Logan and brought his frog to his mouth as Roman grabbed the bag.

“And where am I gonna go?! Huh? Where Logan!?” Roman growled as his eyes flickered to the other two sides.

The blue side looked down to the child in his arms, “I don’t care. Go to the darks, you’re certainly close enough in your… tactics. Or go live in the imagination, you have an entire castle there” “Fra!” “Yes Anwir, frog.”

Roman furrowed his brows as he threw the bag over his shoulder. The door was slammed shut seconds later.

Logan rubbed his eyes as he walked up to the group, “Logan. You alright dude?” Logan looked up at Virgil.

The blue side nodded, “We need to go get Remus.” The other two mumbled agreements as they sunk out.

The four sides popped up in the dark side. True to its name, it was well, dark. Pictures were scattered everywhere. Virgil knelt, a small smile spreading to his face as he stared back at purple and green sides attempting to bake a cake for a yellow side’s birthday.

They continued down the hallway, Anwir clinging to Logan’s tie as they walked, his eyes growing heavy. They passed an orange door on their trek, covered in padlocks, the group exchanged looks but left it alone to continue to the living room.

The group of four made it to the living room. Remus sat on the floor, tears streaming down his face as he repeatedly pushed a needle through fabric. Over and over. Mumbling words under his breath as the needle drew the thread through yellow cotton.

Remus seemed to be working on a tapestry. It was large, almost the size of the entire living room, it was divided into different panels; eight total.

The first panel was complete. It consisted of a small child alone in a dark house, yellow scales spread on the otherwise featureless face of the main subject. His clothes were torn and slightly ragged as he covered his head, tears leaking down on the subject’s face. Dark shadows whispering in his ears.

In the second, the side seemed slightly older. His posture was less scared and more unsure as he helped a smaller child up, leading him somewhere. The smaller one was covered in red and a sickly green color, tears leaking down steadily. The yellow side was still young, maybe seven at the most, but it was clear that all he wanted to do was care for the green side. The green one had a face. Two red eyes filled with fear, lips curled into a cry as he reached for the side

In the third, the yellow figure was older, clearly, a teenager, and now had a long scar coming from his ear to his mouth. He was holding a purple blanket in his arms. Beside him walked the eccentric green figure, who was practically clinging to his arm in every step. The erratic green side had an ear to ear grin while they walked.

The next stood three figures. All adults. The yellow one in the center, green on his left, purple on his right. The two of them that had faces seemed happy, smiles on their faces as they looked at the yellow figure. They were proud. And happy too. But you could see with a few stitches of white thread, the hesitance in the purple one’s eyes was subtle but prevalent.

The next panel seemed to be the end of the happy tale. The yellow side was crumpled to the ground, the black shadows swarming the figure one again in bitter mockery of when they were a child. His clothes weren’t torn but wrinkled beyond repair as tears shone down his scales. Wine bottles scattered by his feet, his face a slight gray tone as the scales grew darker. In his hands, a striped gray sweater.

Remus was still sewing the sixth panel. His hair a mess as he rocked back and forth, tears flowing down his cheeks as he pushed the needle through the fabric. The entire tapestry was made of mainly yellow, black, green, and purple thread. With the occasional wisp of orange. Blood flowed down the green side’s fingers, picked from the needle, and stabbed raw from his repeated actions.

The shadows in the room downcasted on the side, the red gleam in his eyes glowing slightly as he continued his muttering. He didn’t even acknowledge the four new sides in the room, only continuing his swaying and muttering under his heavy breaths.

“Rem?” Virgil spoke softly, his voice hardly heard over Remus’s muttering.

The green side either ignored Virgil or just didn’t hear them as he continued to push the blood stained needle through the fabric

“Remus, kiddo?” Patton stepped forward, it was a small step, but his foot skimmed the edge of the tapestry. Patton took a step backward when the fabric was pulled roughly by the green side towards him.

Logan looked down towards the floor, multitudes of other sewing projects were thrown around. Mostly small stuffed snakes. Some were yellow, others teal or green, but there were hundreds of them. Logan set down Anwir, giving him a green snake to play with. “Stay.” “Bah!” “Thank you.”

Logan rose back up, taking careful steps towards Remus. The tapestry was sitting on his lap, meaning that his back was exposed and Logan could get to him without stepping on his project. Logan carefully stepped around, eventually getting clear access to Remus.

“Remus can you hear me?” Logan spoke softly and clearly, keeping his hands in Remus’s view as he met his eyes.

“Can’t talk. Need to finish this.” Remus didn’t meet Logan’s eyes, he only pulled the thread through the fabric, creating an eye of a much larger figure.

Logan drew a breath, “ok… what are you working on then?”

Remus knotted the green thread, snipping off the excess and pulling the yellow thread from a pile beside him, “My apology.”

Logan pulled his full attention to the green side beside him, the other two only watching as they couldn’t help but become absorbed in the conversation. “Your apology? Remus, you didn’t do anything-”

“No! No! I did! I killed him! I took my morningstar and hit his ribs until they were nothing but snake putty! I wrapped my hands around his throat until his eyes got cloudy and he looked at me with betrayal! I ripped out every one of his pretty scales and that crimson blood leaked out of every hole! I-I killed him!” Remus sped up his stitches, his voice growing thick as the tears rolled down his cheeks in globs, “I killed him!” he stopped his stitches, tears soaking down his mustache he choked on his sobs, dropping the needle with shaking hands, “I killed my best friend.”

The other sides could only stare as Remus broke down. Hiding his face in his hands as tears fell on the weeks worth of work. Regret seeped in Remus’s every word. It was like it was dunked in it, covered completely in sorrow and pain.

The sides stood frozen. The room echoed with Remus’s cries. They were haunting, the sound that you only hear in your nightmares. The sides felt their voices dissipate. Until one of them broke the hollow silence.

Anwir shuffled forward, crawling on his hands and knees with his stuffed frog in his hands. The other sides only watched as the child sat down mere inches away from the green side and held out his frog to the upset side, “Fra!”

Remus raised his head to look at the smaller side, his breaths were heavy. Tears clogging his pores and nose, his hair was a mess from a month without a hairbrush. “W-what?”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing slightly, “he means frog. He’s been trying to give people his frog when they’re upset.”

Remus blinked, his mind fogging slightly before it cleared. And he laughed. Remus laughed and pulled the scaled baby to his lap.

“Fra! Fra! Fra!”

Remus chuckled as he bounced the child, “Fra? I agree! Can you say fuck?”

Anwir blinked for a few seconds, “fua!”

Remus hummed, “hm.. Not quite. Fuck. Fu-ck. Fuck!” Patton rocked back and forth on his heels, he didn’t quite approve of Remus trying to teach his baby swears, but the moment was too wholesome to raise a fuss.

Anwir stared at the green side, heterochromatic eyes wide as he stared into the red pools of Remus’s eyes. “Fuh!” The smaller side smiled as he reached beside him, making grabby hands towards the sewing needles, making a slight pouty face when Remus pulled the needles away, “No. No sharp things until you learn how to say fuck.”

The other three sides watched with a smile as Remus played with the newest member, but eventually, Anwir fell asleep against Remus’s chest.

Virgil stretched, standing from his position on the floor, “come on Rem, let's go home.”

Remus snapped his head up from the child in his lap, “what? No.” Remus took in a large breath like sigh, “I still killed Janny. I can’t go back.”

Patton stood up tall, he took in a large breath and looked Remus directly in the eyes. Rocking back and forth on his heels slightly, “Kiddo, you didn’t kill him” Patton pushed his tears back and forced his voice to comply, “R-Roman did.”

“You were wrongfully framed Remus,” Logan added, putting a hand on Remus’s shoulder

“And we were wrong to accept you as the culprit without any concrete proof.” Virgil leaned against the concrete wall of the darkside living room.

Remus blinked, running his hand through the smaller side’s hair as the thoughts went through his head. He shook his head roughly, “no! No.. just because I don’t remember it, doesn’t mean that I didn’t fucking do it!” The green side bit his lip harshly, a small hint of copper filling his mouth.

Virgil pushed the tapestry to the side, allowing him a path to walk directly to Remus, “Remus, look at me.” the green side hesitantly raised his head to lock eyes with Virgil, “If you really wanted to kill Janus, would you have done this?” he pointed towards the tapestry, vibrant shades of gold and silver sticking out from the folded over fabric, “would you have taken away the needles from Anwir so he wouldn’t hurt himself? Would you have been so apologetic that you spent weeks down here, alone, making things that reminded you of him?” Virgil looked Remus dead in the eyes. “Dude, you need to stop listening to that head of yours and listen to the nerd. Not everything is your fault.” The green side nodded.

“Not everything is my fault…” Remus hushed a breath, the words light and airy as they flowed out of his lips.

Virgil nodded with a small grin, “Come on, trash goblin. Let’s go home.” he extended his hand, his smile growing wider when Remus rested his hand on top.

Logan rolled up the tapestry, Patton collected the hundreds of plush snakes, Virgil picked up the memories trapped in the photographs. And then they left. A green door switching out for a red one in the concrete house.

And the new family went home.

They had a lot to fix, a lot to mend, a lot to forgive. But they had each other. And sometimes, that’s all you need.

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years ago

Text

“That’s My Child”

@idontgiveafuckaboutshit

Prompt 31: “That’s my child!“

Pairing: Past Romantic Moceit, Familial Roceit, Familial Dukeceit, Familial Royality, Familial Intruality

Trigger Warnings: Divorce/ Seperation, swearing, panic attacks, kinda unsympathetic patton? It’s messy.. --

Janus was livid. He gripped the steering wheel in frustration as the car waited at the lights, the rain over head battering against the car the same way Janus’ thoughts battered his skull. With the bullshit he was constantly left to deal with at work, this was the last goddamn thing he needed on top of it.

“So,”, he sighed, the annoyance already thick in his tone, “What exactly was your plan?”

His passenger flinched, not making eye contact.

“Roman. I’m waiting.”, Janus’ voice was measured, firm but impatient.

“I told you, I’m Remus-”

“Don’t lie to me. Unlike your father, I can actually tell my sons apart-”

“Padre can tell us apart too!!”, ‘Remus’ retorted defensively. It would have been adorable if Janus wasn’t still fuming.

“Really? Funny that, considering he didn’t notice a goddamn thing until I had to call him and let him know you’d both switched!”

He really hadn’t meant to snap at him. It wasn’t Roman he was angry at, or Remus. No, his anger was reserved for his ex-husband and his negligence. But Janus knew he had to apologise. He waited until the next set of lights, taking a short inhale as he softened his tone.

“I’m sorry, Roman. I’m just… rather upset with your father right now. However, it wasn’t fair of me to-”

“It’s fine.”, Roman mumbled, not meeting Janus’ eyes. “... How’d you know I wasn’t Remus?”

Janus snorted, “You’re asking me how I can tell my twin sons apart? The same baby boys I helped raise together for six years? Come now, Roman, give me a difficult question.”

It was a joke, a rhetorical question at best, but as the car started again, Roman broke the silence so hard, Janus felt the whiplash almost immediately,

“Why did you and Padre break up?”

For a moment, Janus genuinely thought he had just been gut punched. Had Patton really never told Roman what had happened? He could have understood perhaps not telling the lad when he was still young - after all, they were just six years old when he and Patton split - but he was fourteen now, for fuck’s sake!

Being careful not to disrupt traffic, Janus stopped a little further down the street from Patton’s new home, staring out the front window as he gathered himself.

“..... Sometimes,”, Janus began, not making eye contact, “People fall out of love, Roman.”

He didn’t need to look to his side to know Roman’s bright green eyes were staring at him pitifully.

“Your father… your ‘Padre’ and I,”, Janus chuckled sadly at that, “We’d been together for years, thought the honeymoon phase would never end. That we’d never have an argument we couldn’t solve, or work out.”

The reminiscent smile on Janus’ lips quivered into a frown, “We were foolish. We kept sweeping little problems and issues under the carpet, and for a while it seemed fine. Instead it just got worse and worse and put a strain on our relationship. Patton and I thought that having you and your brother would fix things. But all we did was wind up hurting you both in the process. The fighting got worse and worse, and in the end, we decided we just couldn’t stay together.”

He heard Roman sniffle next to him, grasping his heart in an icy grip. Janus gently wrapped an arm around his son, hugging him close, “That doesn’t mean we regret having either of you, before you even think that.”

Roman hugged closer, an awkwardness in it, but with no lack of sincerity, “But… if it wasn’t for us maybe..”

“Patton and I wouldn’t have worked out even without you two. Some days, I have to remind myself that at least one good thing that came of the relationship was you two.”, Janus assured him.

His son gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You mean Remus, right? He’s your favourite-”

“Nonsense.”, Janus was startled to say the least, “You’re both my sons, I could never pick a favourite between you both.”

The thought nagged at him in the back of his mind, finally letting him voice the question, “..... Does… Does Patton talk like that, Roman?”

“....“, Roman let out a small hum, unsure of whether he should answer, ”... He… sometimes when he’s really stressed.... he says he’s glad you left me with him instead of Remus...”

Janus could hardly stifle the furious scoff that left his mouth before he could cover it. Without another word, he opened the car doors, only asking Roman, “Patton and Remus are the only ones home right now, yes?”

Roman nodded while Janus got out of the car, “Excellent, I’m going to have a word with him. Perhaps several.”

His son got out of the car fearfully asking, “Am I in trouble?”

Janus shook his head, “No, Roman. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

The way the weight lifted from Roman’s shoulders had Janus’ mind reeling with questions; just how often had Roman asked that question and received a far less positive response for his reaction to be so pronounced?! What was Patton playing at, treating Remus like he didn’t matter as much as Roman?! The rainy walk to the front door was spent mostly trying to calm the righteous anger he was feeling by the time they reached the doorbell.

That being said, Janus somehow still felt his lungs shrivel to a sixth of their size as the door opened and there stood his ex-husband, looking just as uneasy. Good, Janus had thought, serves him right. Clearing his throat, he greeted Patton politely, “Patton.”

“Janus.”

Well, that tone was less than inviting, but he’d expected it.

What he did not expect, however, was Remus sat on the stairs just in view of the door looking pretty frantic. His leg was bouncing erratically, his stare was a mile long, and his teeth were devouring his nails like he was a starving man left in the desert. Patton’s voice tore him from his musings, “Roman, come on, you and your brother can stay here for tonight-”

“Excuse me?!”, Janus hissed, “I am not leaving Remus here, look at him!”

Patton didn’t even blink, “It’s fine, they’re better off staying here, Janus-”

Janus gently put his arm out to stop Roman, Patton protesting, “That’s my child!”

“They’re OUR children, Patton!”

All three of them flinched; Janus had never raised his voice so harshly, but the injustice he felt outweighed his ability to stay calm. Remus’ gaze locked on to his father, and Janus choked back the lump in his throat at the relief he saw flash across Remus’ face. So much so, he couldn’t stop himself from uttering,

“What did you do?”, Patton faltered at the question, prompting Janus to clarify, “What did you do to upset Remus?!”

“Nothing!”, Patton protested, “He’s just been like that since you called-!”

“That was half an hour ago, Patton! Are you telling me Remus has been sitting having a panic attack for half an hour!? And you did nothing?!”

Patton threw his hands up defensively, “I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t want to make it worse!”

“And you want them to stay here!? When you didn’t even try to stop our son having a panic attack?!”

Patton muttered harshly under his breath, “Your son, you mean-”. He slapped a hand over his mouth in realisation. His blue eyes - the same eyes Janus once wanted nothing more than to be lost in forever - were wide and glinting with shame.

“I-! I didn’t mean that-!”

“Remus,”, Janus spoke softly despite the fire crackling in his veins, “Can you stand? We’re going home, and Roman’s staying over.”

“Janus, please don’t-!”

“Patton, I’ll drop Roman off tomorrow, and we will talk.”, he assured Patton, with a far more gentle tone than he believed Patton deserved right now, “But can you let me talk to Remus, please?”

Unsure of what else to do, Patton stepped aside to let his ex-husband in. Janus gently knelt next to Remus who clung to his father tightly, muttering over and over, “I’mSorryI’mSorry,ItWasMyIdeaI’mSoSorryDad-”

“It’s alright, breathe in for me, Remus....”

While Janus handled Remus, Patton and Roman stood in silence. Neither knew what to say ; what could they say anyway? Roman finally broke the silence, “We just wanted you and dad to get back together...”

Janus and Patton gave a silence glance as the former guided Remus out the front door.

“It’s alright,”, Patton assured them, trying his best to hold it together, “Your father and I will work things out...”

His ex-husband’s eyes locked on to Janus’ own, pleading with him, “Right, Jan?”

Janus inhaled steadily, trying to force the emotion out of his face. Hearing that petname again after so long.... a small part of his heart still fluttered at it. He gave Patton a shaky nod, “... We’ll see.”

-- Hahaha, I’m a child of divorce :D

Me projecting onto Moceit? Pfff... no.

This prompt was fun but man, my heart TTnTT

May write a follow up to this if I get more prompts, or one that works with the sequel I have in mind. Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom @patton-cake @does-this-look-logicality-to-you @justalittlecorrupted @irritating-lady-knight @katlikethesword @ali_is_lazy

#moceit #patton sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #my fics #sanders sides fanfiction #ask meme #angst #angst prompt #just to clarify #my parents divorce wasnt like this #i just joke to hide the pain-#okay i better stop yall are gonna get worried #patton #janus #roman #remus

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agerestorybits · 4 years ago

Text

Playing little

(Janus gets more attention when he’s little then big so tries to force himself to be little. Long with angst.)

Janus was quickly picking up a pattern. When he was little the others actively interacted with him, smiled at him and seemed to enjoy his company. When he was big his options and suggestions were ignored.

When he was small Virgil played with him, read bedtime stories and tucked him in. When he was big, he was hissed at or insulted.

When he was small Logan would hold him and tell him facts about anything and everything he asked. When he was big he was given stiff borderline hostile treatment.

When he was small Roman took him on adventures and would call him a little hero and would give him prizes for winning games they made up. When he was big it was scoffing at his words and mocking him.

When he was little Patton hugged him and told him silly jokes and let him help bake. When he was big it was awkward and tense.

When he was little Remus would act like nothing happened and would take care of him and let him stick around. When he was big…

Janus was so lonely. So when he got the idea to try and force his regression so that someone would pay attention to him in a friendly way….Could anyone blame him?

So he did everything that normally triggered it, reminded himself of harsh words or actions from the others. Just how stressed he was. How he couldn’t seem to win.

Patton found him in the living room crying curled up. Instantly concerned. “Janus? What’s wrong?”

“Alone.” He muttered.

“Oh. Why didn’t you come get me?” Patton asked, hugging him.

“Didn’t know where.” He said.

“That’s why you look silly.” Patton booped his nose. Janus giggled. This was nice. He could feel himself slip further into little space. It was safe here, here he got love. He never wanted to leave.

His regression bleed over into the next day and Logan mentioned that it was rare for Janus to stay regressed so long and to be regressed when he woke up.

Janus almost shifted guilty at that. He had triggered himself into Little space almost as soon as he woke up. He heard Patton coming up the stairs and yesterday had been so nice and he knew he couldn’t handle another day of their scorn.

“How are you feeling Janus?” Logan asked.

Janus shrugged, “I dunno.”

Logan frowned. “Did something happen to make you regress this long?”

Janus shrugged again. He looked down. He felt bad now. He could feel his head space start to slip and put his thumb in his mouth. The feeling soothing him and pulling him under again.

Patton and Logan glanced at each other before Logan summoned a pacifier and Patton took Janus’s thumb out of his mouth. Janus had never needed a pacifier before that they had seen. Logan popped the paci in Janus’s mouth and he hummed.

Patton and Logan looked at each other again concerned. Had something happened that forced him to regress like this? “We’ll just watch him for now.” Logan promised.

Roman tried to play with him but it quickly became clear that he was too young. Virgil tried watching him but the stress of watching a younger Janus than normal when something was clearly wrong got to him.

Logan decided to take it upon himself and watch him. Patton talked to Remus to see if Janus ever regressed this young before. To which he answered once and got mad before closing the door in Patton’s face.

“Can you still talk?” Logan asked.

Janus just stared at him. Logan frowned. He summoned a set of keys and jingled them in front of Janus’s face.

The baby laughed and clapped. He had shifted to a child about the size of a six month old. He could sit up on his own but that was about it.

Logan had to put him in a diaper and onesie for infants. He watched as Janus grabbed for the keys and fell over. He rolled on to his back. Kicking his feet.

Logan waited for him to sit back up. He didn’t. Logan reached down and picked him up. Janus babbled meaninglessly in his arms.

“Come on. What is going on with you?”

The door opened and Remus stormed in. “Give me that.” He grabbed Janus from him. “I don’t know how you messed it up this badly!”

“What are you talking about?” Logan demanded as Janus whimpered and started crying.

“Oh shush!” Remus snapped at him.

“Remus!” Logan said, reaching for Janus. Remus stepped back out of his reach.

“He’s tried to force his regression.” Remus said.

Logan froze. “Why would he do that?”

“We can ask him when we snap him out of it.” Remus said sharply. He was seething. Angry that his friend was in pain and didn’t come to him for help. For anyone for help. He just hid from it.

“Well how do we do that?” Logan asked.

“Easy.” Remus walked off and put Janus down on his bed before walking out and closing the door not letting Logan in. “We leave him alone.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that! He isn’t in any state to take care of himself!”

Remus rolled his eyes, “What is Janus?”

“Self preservation.” Logan said.

“Well he’ll either do his job or we’ll go in a few hours and try something else.”

---

Janus woke up alone and confused. He groaned, his head hurt.

“Morning. Took you long enough.” someone turned on a light and he hissed.

Janus looked up. “Remus?”

“Yep.” Remus said. “I drew the short straw so I’m allowed to yell at you first.”

Janus sighed heavy. He looked so...done… “Alright. Get it over with.”

Remus frowned, “Why did you do that again? You know it’s dangerous!”

Janus flinched before steeling himself. “Why do you care? Don’t you hate me now or something?”

Remus took a breath through his teeth, “I don’t hate you. Why would I hate you? You’re my best friend!”

“Well you have a weird way of showing it!” Janus yelled. He threw his pillow at Remus.

“What are you talking about?” Remus asked.

“You’ve been pissed at me for weeks!” Janus snapped.

“Yeah You’ve been avoiding me for weeks!” Remus said.

“No I haven’t!”

“Right. You never showing up is just you being busy!”

“I was! Surprise Remus I have a life outside of you!”

“And how’s it treating you if you're forcing your regression that far? Making the others take care of you!” Remus said.

“I’m not...They don’t have to take care of me!” Janus said. “They choose too!”

“I doubt they will anymore. Not after this stunt! How will they trust you?” Remus said verbally stabbing him in his weak spot.

Janus was shaking. “Get out.”

Remus slammed the door on his way out.

Janus got a talking to from all of the others, about how that was reckless and he broke their trust.

He knew without asking they weren’t going to take care of him any more. He ruined the only good thing he had left because he was selfish and pushed it.

Janus stopped talking. It took a week for the others to notice due to being mad at him. And another week to notice that he hadn’t shown up to anyone regressed.

“Do you think he’s forcing himself to not regress?” Patton asked.

“That’s just as dumb as forcing his regression for too long!” Roman stated.

“He’s not talking either.” Virgil said, “Do you think something else is wrong?”

“I’ll talk to him.” Logan promised.

He knocked on Janus’s door and it opened. Janus sat in the corner reading. He glanced up and put his book aside.

He didn’t say anything, he just waited.

So Logan cut to the chase. “Have you regressed since...that time?”

Janus shook his head. Logan frowned, “Why aren’t you talking?”

“You seem to prefer me that way.” Janus said softly.

Logan expected him to say he didn’t have anything to say. That he was upset. Not this. This was something...heartbreaking.

“Do you think we prefer you regressed?” He asked putting the pieces together.

“Don’t you?” Janus asked in the same soft tone.

Logan paused...The truth was that they did prefer Regressed Janus. They were only concerned that he wasn’t regressing. Didn’t seem to want to be around them anymore.

“Perhaps the correct question is, did you? I burnt that bridge didn’t I? I was lonely and I pushed it too far.” Janus admitted.

“Now..what? You think we aren’t going to take care of you when you're regressed?” Logan asked.

“Oh can you honestly tell me there won’t be a seed of doubt that I was faking it in the back of your head?” Janus asked, his tone hardening slightly.

Logan can’t. Not for a long time. “You broke our trust. You’ll have to earn it back.”

“Right.” Janus said flatly.

There was a stretch of silence.

“I should go.” Logan said at last.

“Yes.” Janus said. “Do.”

Logan closed the door gently and could swear he heard crying as he did so. Janus did regress, but he handled it alone that time.

And the next.

A mouth passed, he continued his silence and hidden regression. The others paid more attention to him. Mostly asking if he needed help to regress.

They missed little him. He thought bitterly.

“And you haven’t regressed at all?” Roman asked hopeful, he missed his play buddy.

Janus sighed, “No.” He lied aloud.

Roman blinked, surprised that Janus spoke. “But...that’s not healthy!”

“Why do you care what’s healthy or not for me?” Janus demanded.

“Because I care about you!” Roman said.

“Little me. Big me you couldn’t give a damn about!” Janus snapped.

“Not true!” Roma lied.

Janus didn’t respond; he turned to walk away. The stress was getting to him. Roman blocked his exit. “No. I just got you talking again!”

“Roman please!” Janus said, his voice slipping a little.

Roman shook his head. Tears appeared in Janus’s eyes. He stomped his foot and growled, “Why are you so mean? Why do you hate me?”

Roman froze, “I don’t hate you Little hero.” He said, trying to comfort him.

“No! You just like me to play with! I’m not a toy!” He shoved at Roman. Roman didn’t budge. He was shocked by the outburst. Little Janus was normally an angel.

Janus was openingly crying at this point. This drew the others into the room. “What happened?” Virgil asked.

“It appears Janus has finally regressed again.” Logan stated.

“Ah..Little help?” Roman asked.

Janus was still crying, Patton stepped closer to hug him. He backed away from him, tripped on his own feet and fell to the ground. He wailed.

Remus showed up at that. He took one look at Janus and knelt down to help him. Janus batted his hands away. “No no no no! Hate me! Don’t wanna play!”

They all looked at each at a loss. “We don’t hate you.” Patton said.

“Don’t lie!” Janus yelled.

“We don’t!” Roman said, panicked.

Janus paused in his wailing. He whimpered and tucked his knees to his chest and hid his face against them hat falling off.

Remus pulled him into his lap. Janus struggled. But soon he was holding on to Remus for dear life sobbing his heart out. “I no want alone.”

“You don’t have to be alone. We’re here for you.” Virgil said.

“Even when you aren’t little.” Logan said.

“Really?...but..you so mean.” Janus said.

Several winces. “We’ll try and be nicer to all of you. It isn’t fair of us to pick and choose what parts of you to love.”

“We’re sorry we’ve treated you like this.” Patton said.

“For now.” Janus grumbled.

“It’ll take time for you to trust us.” Logan said.

“But we’re up for the challenge.” Roman said.

“Promise?” Janus whispered. Everyone did.

He felt better. Not all the way. That would come with time. But for now.

He sighed content to let them take care of him in a way that he missed.

That care bleeds over into his big space. Virgil was nicer, Patton still joked with him, Logan answered his questions and even spoke about morals with him, Roman spoke about his ideas and even went so far as to ask for acting tips. Remus was there for him.

They all were. He was happy.

#agere janus #patton #roman #logan #virgil #remus #angst

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ferretbitexo-fic-den · 4 years ago

Text

Density Kills 5/?

Dedicated to @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes for allowing me to butcher their idea as much as I already did.

Part 4 X Part 6

Pairings: Analogical, One-sided Analoceit

Warnings: fire mention, gasoline mentions, food mentions, fluff, angst, hanahaki, swearing

Synopsis: Janus is a good liar, most of the time

“Hey guys…” Virgil started, face looking redder by the minute. “We, uh, have some news…”

Logan tightened his hold on Virgil’s hand. “Virgil and I are dating.” He said, proud and happy and oh Einstein, what is this feeling?

Patton was immediately starry eyed and squealed over this news. He hugged the two, whose faces appeared to be exploding in euphoria.

When the fatherly figure asked when this started, Logan stammered. “Uh, today? A few hours ago?”

The twins tackled the two in a hug-attack. Roman criticized the two for taking so damn long, Remus made prude jokes which led to Virgil threatening to tear of his head if he even considered continuing that sentence.

Logan sighed with a pleasant familiarity. This is the kind of family unit he never would have asked for, but would never trade for another given the chance.

“Alright kiddos, let’s leave it at that for now.” Patton told them all to get up and settle for dinner. They all did as they were told, Virgil and Logan smiled at each other in content.

Before they started to eat, Virgil noticed a vacant chair beside in between the twins. “Hey, Pat? Where’s Janus?” He asked.

“Oh! I haven’t seen him since this morning.” Patton said, prompting to stand up until Logan raised a hand to stop him.

“Do not worry, Patton. I’ll go check on him.” Logan excused himself from the table.

“Wait! I’ll come, too.” Virgil chased after him.

…

Janus knew his absence from dinner would probably sell him out, but he silently prayed that he’d go unnoticed.

He stared at the bucket, half-filled with cornflower and violet petals, filled with an unknown feeling of disdain, anger, and envy altogether. Janus poured gasoline over the petals and lit another match which was dropped into the metal container.

No one has to know…

The snake-side then proceeded to hide under the comfort of his weighted blanket as he felt his lungs throb in pain, roots ingrained and stems seemingly invading his roots.

God, he wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy, much less the two people he loved the most.

Great job, Janus. You set them together, and now they’re happy, and now you’re going to fade because they will never love you the same.

But they’re happy.

And as long as they’re happy, that is more than enough for Janus.

So he sighed, willing himself to drift to sleep.

Until he heard three knocks on the door.

“Janus, it’s Logan.” Said the knocker. “It’s time to eat. Patton is inquiring for your presence.”

He didn’t respond yet, hoping Logan would get the message. He couldn’t come down to dinner, not just yet. He knew he couldn’t avoid him. It would just give off suspicion.

“Hey Jan the Fibber! You alright in there?” Asked another side. “It’s Virgil. Can you hear us?”

Janus coughed quietly, hoping they wouldn’t hear. “Yeah, sorry. I can’t make it to dinner.” He said, almost sounding normal.

“Dude, you okay?” Virgil asked once more.

“Yes. It seems I started shedding again.” Janus lied smoothly, as though well-rehearsed.

“Do you need assistance?” Logan asked. “We’d be delighted to lend a metaphorical hand if you so need.”

“No thank you. I’ve been doing this alone for five years, now.” Janus groaned. He felt the conversation ending as it took them a while to respond.

“Okay, then. We’ll send you a plate later, ‘kay?” Virgil said before Janus heard their footsteps sounding more distant each step.

Janus sighed and drifted off. He was already asleep when his dinner was left in front of his door.

…

After dinner, Logan and Virgil found themselves snuggled on Logan’s bed, hands intertwined and legs crossed with each other’s.

The emo noticed his partner’s empty stares. “What’s wrong, Lo?” He asked kissing his jaw.

Logan looked at Virgil and saw no reason to hide his thoughts. He sighed.

“Something’s wrong with Janus.” He kissed Virgil’s fingers.

“What do you mean?” The anxious side asked.

“His last shedding time was last month.” Logan stated.

…

Janus slipped on Virgil’s old hoodie, inhaling the scent of peppermint and dark coffee. His lungs throbbed. Janus almost got used to the pain itself.

He knew he loved Virgil. He had ever since they fell apart. Janus clung unto the hopeless wish that he would take him back as a friend, and maybe things would escalate into something more.

Then he fell in love with Logan, and Janus watched, showing no hint of the disdain he held against Logan.

Logan, who knew how to take care of Virgil, puts his own comfort aside for the emo side. He who was too perfect to hate.

He knew he never hated Logan, but when Janus held Logan in his arms, he realized he never wanted to let him go. He wanted to stay in the embrace, make Logan feel loved as he wanted to for Virgil.

Petals once again disrupted his breathing, and he lets them fall, loosing more bliod from what little he had.

He wants them both.

So he cries, curling into the hoodie, knowing he’d fade without them knowing.

....

TAGLIST❤

@shadowjag , @wigsnatchedhoteltrivago , @arsonenthusiast , @i-love-my-dark-strange-sons , @phantom-moonfire , @lostonehero , @awkward-child-of-satan , @deetheimposter , @ashtonbby2 , @lokiamorstuffs , @janus-the-sassy-snek-boi , @eeveeeclair246 ,@enragedbees , @franthehorsegir

For Density Kills: @knight-shives , @chronophobica

Tell me if you wanna be added or removed!❤

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lycanthrop-ee · 4 years ago

Text

Sires and Sons (ON HIATUS)

Chapter 1 of ?

Next chapter

A/N: YALL. I’ve been trying to figure out if I should finish this before posting the first chapter, but I’m honestly so pumped- this is my first even multi-chapter fanfic! Like,,, EVER. So anyway, it’s my birthday today and I do what I want, so without further ado- HERE WE GO.

Synopsis: When the twins split two years ago, Janus was tasked with raising Remus. His only help was the evasive and sullen Virgil- who he already had to wrangle like a stray teenager. The endless days in the Dark Side’s Mindpalace were broken only by monthly catch-ups with Patton, and the only thing that ever changed the stories that Janus used to get Remus to bed. This time, though, something was different: secrets were slipping through Janus’ lips- and past the divide between Dark and Light.

Ships: Moceit (probably just bg but I don’t actually know can you tell I’m a professional-)

Word count: 1312

Janus still remembered the day Patton came to the door, two little boys walking along behind him on the twisting path from the Dark Mindscape to the Light. He’d explained the situation and nudged a clumsy four-year-old towards him, clad in green, and that was the end of it- there was nothing to argue. As he’d taken the child by the shoulder and gently ushered him through the black door to where he’d be raised, the tiny child never once turned his head to watch where he was going. He simply kept his eyes set on his twin over his shoulder, standing confused at Patton’s feet, until the door had closed between them.

That was the last Remus had seen of Roman, but Patton had made a habit of knocking on the door every few months. Janus would put the kid under Virgil’s watch (never a good idea, but what else could he do) under the pretense of a ‘Work Meeting’. They’d follow a winding trail through the Imagination and just talk. About the twins, sure, but Janus also picked up a lot about Patton’s life. He’d grown to enjoy their meetings, and found the tales of the other sides flowing through his mind long after each encounter.

One late night when Remus was hopped up on sugar and newly learned swear words that could be attributed completely to Virgil, Jan was pulling his hair out trying to get the tiny side to sleep. He suddenly sat up, earning a new sigh from his caretaker.

“Tell me a story!”

Janus smiled softly, reminded of the kid’s secret brother- adventurous, brave Prince Roman, as the Light Sides had taken to calling him. In any case, a quick tale had never failed him in the past- and the stories of the others still bounced around his skull. So Janus sat Remus on his bed, settling across from him.

“Once upon a time,” he started, smiling as Remus stuck out his tongue.

“Boring!”

“Just let me start, Remus. Once upon a time, there was a royal advisor. He knew all there was to know in the whole land of…” Janus wracked his brain before sighing and turning to Remus. “Looking for a name?”

The six year old smiled. “Assvile.”

“Remus. We aren’t calling it-”

“Shit City. Bitchtown. Fuckopolis.”

“Remus!” Janus scolded, hiding a smile.

“The Light Side.” Remus’ face had grown serious, and he looked soberly at Janus.

“Remus-” He started the sentence as an automatic sigh.. And then he heard what the young side had said. His eyes widened, and he scanned Remus’ face- had Virgil told him more than he should have? But the mushy-cheeked child’s face was earnest and interested. “The Light Side?”

Remus nodded quietly, and Janus felt a pang under his ribs. His eyebrows furrowed.

“The Light Side. The poet knew everything to be known in the entirety of The Light Side, and was hailed across the city for his sharp tongue and serious eyes. He was known for his sobriety, sure, but those closest to him- the… the king he advised and the princes under his feet, and the royal pâtissier-” Janus smiled- “They all knew him to be kind. They saw it in his fleeting and smothered smiles, or even the rare grin to be won.” Remus settled into the story, and Janus tucked him under his blanket. The younger side did have one question, one that lead further into the tale:

“What’s a patisser?”

“Pâtissier- he’s a baker. The royal baker, and there’s more about him next.”

“The royal pâtissier was one of the advisor’s closest friends. He was the nicest man in the land, a friend to anyone willing to extend him a kind hand. His baking was… questionable, really, but they needed some front to keep him around- he brought the mood of the whole castle up in the darkest of times, and he was the caretaker of the youngest princes. His cookies were exceptional, as well, leading to his official role.”

Janus searched for signs of sleep on Remus’ face, but his eyes peered up the blankets, pleading for more to the story. Janus continued begrudgingly- he agreed that keeping the twins a secret from each other was the easiest way to keep all the sides in their proper places, but there had always been something in him that had yearned to introduce the two, to see how their personalities clashed and complimented, to watch them interact with someone their own age. And so he pressed on.

“The two youngest princes were twins. One’s name was Romulous, a courageous young boy with a knack for sparring. He was imaginative and robust, and loved stories with happy endings. He dreamed of beautiful roses and handsome adventurers, of slaying beasts and saving kingdoms…”

And, to Janus’ surprise and relief, Remus was drifting off.

“Promise…” He yawned. “Promise to tell me more later?”

Janus wanted to tease Remus for liking the story he’d started off mocking, but he didn’t want to get the six-year-old riled up again.

“Sure, Remus. Goodnight.” Janus shook his head gently to clear it, running his hands over his eyes as he stood. He made his way softly to the door, emerging into the kitchen, where Virgil was sitting on the counter with a butter knife, a jar of peanut butter, and a box of graham crackers. It seemed he’d meant to eat the crackers with peanut butter spread on them, but had deteriorated to eating straight peanut butter with a knife. Janus sighed.

“Virgil, could you use a spoon for that? You’re giving me anxiety.”

“I’m giving you anxiety?” Virgil snorted as he hopped off the counter. Even as he mocked Janus, he was screwing the top back on the jar and putting the knife in the sink with a clatter. “Is the kid asleep?”

Jan nodded, taking the graham crackers from Virgil and reopening them before he got the chance to put them away. He looked around the room lit dimly by the light over the oven. “Its only 10, Virgil. You can turn on a light.”

The anxious side shrugged;

“I could.”

Janus sighed and flipped the light on himself. Virgil looked as though he was only contemplating actually washing his knife before he spoke. “So…how was it?”

“It?”

“Patton. Your-” he motioned quotation marks around the phrase- “Work Meeting?”

“Oh.” He thought of the day spent wandering the sunny forest, Patton towing an adorable but somewhat impractical picnic basket, full of luke-warm sandwiches and a conspicuously commercial bottle of apple juice. “It was… nice.” Janus picked his words carefully, although he wasn’t sure what he was trying to hide. Virgil smirked.

“Did you have a lovely little sunlit picnic?”

Janus snorted. “Would it surprise you in any way if I said yes?” He took out a stack of crackers before closing the box and returning them to their cabinet.

“Not in the slightest,” Virgil sighed. “How’s the kid? The.. Other. Kid.” He hesitated for the first time that night, his voice lowered.

“Same as ever. They’ve been taking him further into the Imagination, so, as usual, we have to be careful about when we bring Remus out.” Janus yawned, ending the conversation with a “Night, Virgil,” and pulling out a few crackers before shoving the sleeve back into the cabinet hap-hazardly.

By way of a goodbye, Virgil waved halfheartedly. Janus walked the short hallway to his room and sat on his black-sheeted bed. He rubbed his eyes, head in his hands, and let out a deep breath, putting the snack aside. His reading glasses stared at him from his night stand, and he finally slid them on before shuffling into his tiny bathroom.

The glasses made him look old.

And not particularly villainous.

He went to the bathroom, washed his hands in cool water, and quickly washed his scaly ace. The Dark Side’s Mindpalace had no windows. It was a questionable design, if on-brand. It increased the risk of mold growth. It made the feeling of being trapped so much more potent. It also meant that each time Janus closed his eyes he couldn’t help picturing the gorgeous green trails and the white sunbeams of the forests… as if anything could erase that from his mind’s eye. It made Virgil, Remus, and him all pale as shit, while the tan glow of the others’ showed in their equally bright faces. Janus wasn’t even sure if it was a metaphysical glow- it honestly could have just been the effect of extra Vitamin D. All things considered, Janus’ room was about as gloomy as the rest of the Mindpalace. Not as many frills as Virgil’s or the Others’. He did have a pet snake, but that was more by design than a choice of his- nevertheless, he’d named it Missy, and dutifully fed it every two weeks.

Today was not a feeding day. Today had been a Patton day, and in the Mindscape there was only ever one Thing per day.

If that.

Things had gotten boring very quickly before Remus came around.

Janus brushed his teeth, no longer hungry, made a couple notes on the pad next to his bed, and fell asleep to brightly-colored thoughts of the Others as long-ago royalty.

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willowaudreykeyes · 4 years ago

Text

Monster AU Idea that I don’t know what to do with

Literally what the title says. Idk what to do with this, but its in my head and so i need to write it down and share it before my brain explodes. Talk about it or ask about it; whatever you want. As long as I know about it as it is still my idea, go nuts.

@ladyedwina @sparrowofsong

Warning: Does involve murder, being captured, lots of depressed Roman because I’m mean to him for no reason and it makes me sad, gory removal of fingers (not detailed but it is there), suicide mention, me swearing a lot, stabbing(not detailed), hints of Roceit; Intrulogical and qpr Pattmile

Spider Monster Who-Realises-That-His-Race-Sucks Virgil

Born like this. Was raised to be alone but he likes being around others to feel safe, so it makes him a little awkward and even anxious around others.

Hates the rest of his kind because he’s the only one who doesn’t want to eat people. So now they all wanna kill him.

He can retract his extra legs but it leaves small bumps in his back, so he likes to wear his over-sized hoodie to help hide them.

Janus saved him from one of his own kind. Travelled with him and Logan before getting separated by Monster Hunters and running into a lonely wolf-Patton.

Is now Patton’s spider child, despite the fact that said father figure is afraid of spiders. And that Virgil is technically older then him. He does try to look past the ‘too-many-eyes’ and ‘long, hairy legs’ thing; which Virgil appreciates.

The only one of the group that knows how mobiles work and he finds it funny as fuck.

Werewolf Underdog (ha) Patton

Runt of the litter.

Can shift between a humany appearance, an actual grey-brown wolf and a bipedal werewolf. He isn’t the third one often and actually enjoys being a more typical wolf as he can be passed off as a wolf-dog hybrid and has gotten free bones and pets.

Ran away from his pack as they didn’t want him to die but also didn’t want him to get stronger, then raised a bunch of homeless orphans at a young age and also defended them from a trafficking ring by ripping out a bunch of people’s throats.

Yeah... he brought them to an orphanage afterwards as it’s safer then the streets. Then he ran away again; at this point he’s only 15-16.

Lives alone and homeless for a few more years before running into Virgil and immediately adopting him.

Patton helped Virgil find Janus and Logan so now he has more children (who are all older then him but he ignores that).

No one will go hungry EVER with Patton is around. He is the caretaker of this pack and he will not let his pups feel hungry ever-

He’s not over how shitty his pack was to him and it’s very obvious.

When he meets Emile though, it lifts a lot of weight off his shoulders as he learns not to be so all-bearing of others issues. And he also feels safer talking to him about his old pack as he doesn’t want to be pitied by anyone.

Tired-As-Fuck Vampire Logan

Who’s like 600 years old and knows that a lot of History that the modern day tells everyone is wrong and HATES that he’d be found out if he started yelling at people how wrong they are.

Parents wanted him to drop science and be a farmer. They, and his younger siblings, all died when their crops were poisoned two weeks after he moved out to do his science elsewhere.

Oh and he was bit by the person who 1. Was his partner in science and 2. He was head over heels for them because they let him take risks but still made sure he was safe as he did them.

So that pissed him off quite a bit. Because he almost instantly killed the couple who took in the sickly scientist because the wife cut her finger. He managed to kill the cow instead but he ran away afterwards and never saw them again.

Ran into Janus 300 years later -after travelling a LOT and learning a LOT and nearly dying a LOT and feeling so much that he doesn’t wanna feel anymore because that’s 300yrs of friends dying- and decided to travel with the one type of guy who won’t die of old age!!!

Then Virgil appeared. Then Patton. Then the Twins. Then Remy. Then Emile. He wishes that his dead heart would stop making him want to protect them all to his last breath but what can ya do?

He will murder anyone to save the others- but much prefers to just stay inside and just experiment on the occasional new thing that he finds.

Protector. Leader. Professor. Tired. Doctor. Cantor (yes he was Jewish for a little while after the bite but now he’s Atheist). University Chancellor. Lots of titles and he got them all legit too, although some are a little out of date.

Do not ask how he feels about the others. Especially Remus. He will glare at you without a word before moving on with his life.

Naga Will-Steal-You’re-Last-$5 Janus

Age? Social construct. He hints at being around Logan’s age but that could be give or take a hundred years or so.

He can shift between having a tail and legs- but ofc much prefers the tail. But he hates that his teeth change with it as it makes him hold his ‘s’ more when he talks.

When no tail, the left side of his face is very scarred. Someone tried burning off the scales on his face but the scars only appear when he’s trying to look human. When he has his tail, his scales replace them and they look fine.

Do not touch his hands or he will strangle you with them. They’re sensitive as hell without his gloves and he doesn’t know why.

He can hypnotise you to take a fucking break and he’s not afraid to do it (except on Logan as he’s somehow almost entirely immune)

Doesn’t like hypnotising his friends unless its just to take a break or to pull them out of an anxiety/panic attack. Every other living thing isn’t off limits though.

Lived alone until he met Logan. He also liked killing everyone he met until he met Logan. The only reason he didn’t kill Logan was because the nerd almost chopped off the end of his tail. The others don’t know this and it’s staying that way.

Has a cane to walk with for days that his legs decide that they wanna be a tail but he’s in public for some reason and he can’t and it sucks.

Almost killed Remy when they first met. Literally- he stabbed him in the side. Now they’re best buds over it and it was weird how quickly it happened too.

Has stolen Roman’s last $5. He will not be returning it. He hasn’t spent it because he finds him cute funny when he’s mad.

Siren But-Flips-Off-The-Sea-And-Heights Roman

Was born a Prince! With his weirdo of a twin. They were well liked and he was next in line for the throne and he was gonna be given a wife-

He wasn’t happy that it HAD to be a wife and when he argued that he wanted a guy; everyone turned on him and threw him into the ocean. So... fuck them.

Sirens saved him by turning him into one. He hates it.

Was forced to eat kelp or people. He chose kelp. He hated it.

Was dragged out of the sea by his brother who had been thrown into the evil swamp nearby and is now a banshee. Not as bad but he’s still rather pissed.

Although he was a little sad when he heard, 100yrs later, that his entire kingdom died of the plague. He moved on quickly though.

He hates the sea and doesn’t go near it. If it all dried up one day, it’d be the happiest day of his life. He doesn’t even eat seafood anymore as it makes him upset just looking at it.

He still likes to sing. He can control if it’s going to mind-control those who hear it or not; but it’s a little annoying as he can’t get too into it without accidentally losing control. Doesn’t stop him though.

He learnt how to play multiple instruments, made anonymously published books, the money-earner of the two. Although he was jealous that Remus was better at more hands-on stuff and is slowly, but happily, learning how to craft things from wood.

He and Remus never separated. Even when Monster Hunters sprayed him with water, forced his tail to appear, and took him to a facility to be imprisoned forever. That’s another thing he was mad about since Remus refused to just fucking RUN but he was happy to see his brother be proud of him when he dug VERY sharp teeth into a mans arm.

Had to be carried out by Janus when he, Logan, Patton and Virgil decided to free everyone inside. Every other creature could run except him, which led to him and Remus staying with them.

He definitely, 100%, no-doubt-about-it got a massive gay crush on Janus when he taught him how to fight. And sword fight. And dance. And how to look after his rather pretty scales.

In the 200-300yrs since he’s had a tail, he hasn’t ONCE really looked after them. So when Janus helped him out and made his scales less gross and more gorgeous, he actually started liking his tail a bit.

The Ocean can still go fuck itself though.

Oh and the one time they visited the Seattle Space Needle? Yeah, fuck heights too.

Banshee Will-Eat-Your-Fingers-If-Given-The-Chance Remus

After Roman got thrown into the ocean, he went on a rampage. He didn’t kill anyone, but he sure as hell got close to murdering their shitty father.

They tied him up and tossed him into the nearby swamp, where he nearly died. He inhaled days worth of magical fog that eventually turned him into a banshee. Which is just the ability to scream so loud that he makes people pass out, which is useful. Oh and sharp teeth that he looks after really well.

He managed to escape the forest, he screamed at a passing merchant and took his horse, and went to the ocean where he found Roman depressingly eating kelp on a rock off in the distance.

He literally got on a boat, dragged the surprised but happy fish into it with him, and made sure that they would never be separated again.

Didn’t care about what happened to their old kingdom.

He learnt how to make weapons, how to blacksmith, how to glassmith, how to make clothes- Literally anything he could since Roman kind of sucked at making anything that wasn’t music or a story of some kind. Fine by him since he knew the quality of the weapon he was stabbing people with.

When the hunters forcefully made Roman’s tail appear, he tried to scream to make them all pass out but they were ready and punched him out. He would have found it a little funny if he didn’t wake in a jail cell with a thing over his mouth.

The two worst things about it: He couldn’t see Roman and know if he was okay and he couldn’t cuss out the guards.

When that nerdy but very murderous vampire broke in and helped him out of the prison, he returned the favour by biting off the fingers of a guard that had broken Logan’s glasses. He later on fixed said glasses as well but he thought the fingers removal was a better thank you.

Loves Logan; only Roman, Janus and Emile have figured it out. Virgil thinks he’s plotting to kill the vampire one day, Remy doesn’t pay attention and Patton thinks that Logan is a good influence on him (he’s not wrong as he slowly stops describing brutal murders and talks about gross facts that Logan does and doesn’t know)

Remy No-It-Isn’t-Short-For-Remington-Yes-I-Am-A-Dragon-Roman

Born as a shapeshifting dragon. Was supposed to live like a recluse like the rest of his kind but said ‘fuck that’ and now works at a clothing store in a town full of morons for entertainment.

His kind does get tired rather easily so he lives off coffee. He is addicted and luckily for him; his body won’t get used to it so he doesn’t have to heighten the dose of caffeine in every drink. Yay!

Two things happened when he first met Janus and Roman. The first is that he got stabbed by the Naga because he may or may not have seen him wearing some shiny rings that he REALLY wanted. He wanted it more then Janus, so he found it okay to do- but got stabbed for it.

Two; he then bit Roman (who kinda deserved it when he tried to ‘slay the dragon’ when Janus had saw his unnaturally-bright brown eyes) and was dragged to see everyone to figure out what to do with him.

He managed to talk his way out of being murdered by Remus by sheer amazing personality (he’s x5 sassy when afraid and Remus thought he was hilarious) and just decided to hang around everyone just because he could.

Being stabbed turned into a joke between him and Janus and now they’re besties who totally don’t steal from random assholes that they run into down the street. It’s a now competition to have the shiniest collection (Janus is winning but gives Remy the occasional shiny thing as he knows that dragons get very mad about hoard sizes sometimes)

When they all moved towns, he dragged them to one where his old friend Emile was. He also introduced Virgil to Starbucks and their coffee and is still getting berated for it to this day.

Oh and when he does manage to let himself be a dragon, he’s about as large as a horse and has really pretty black scales with a light brown underbelly. His eyes turn bright green too. Virgil calls him Starbucks’s best mascot.

Emile Is-A-Disney-Fairy-Stereotype

Can grow and shrink on command; can also make his wings appear and disappear although it does hurt not to have them out almost daily.

Pink wings and pink hair. Very popular fairy attributes (for both fairies and Monster Hunters)

Can see aura’s of humans and monsters. They look very different depending on species but he LOVES seeing human ones the most as they are often filled with more colours.

Is a therapist, is a cartoon nerd, is able to make you a dress that disappears at midnight

... Can also see your dreams but doesn’t like doing it as its intrusive and it feels like he’s breaking some kind of human Confidentiality agreement

Being a therapist has changed a lot of his views on personal space (like the whole dream thing he has). He’s very in-your-face when excited, but as a kid he would CLING to people at every chance he had. Even strangers. It wasn’t a good habit.

Became a therapist, an independent one too, because a human friend of his died of suicide and he blamed his therapist who was telling him a lot of bad advice. And said therapist wasn’t supportive of his friends gender-identity crisis as he was very strict on ‘born a boy is a boy’ kind of thinking.

Now Emile takes in teenagers for free and adults at a lower price then a normal therapist. He doesn’t have a great living space (upstairs from his office don’t tell anyone) but he doesn’t care!

Met Remy as he was one of his patients once. He can tell when someone isn’t human due to their aura’s and nearly fell out of his chair when a FUCKING DRAGON walked in.

After Remy finished his sessions, he still visited occasionally and always remembered his favourite drink (chocolate smoothie with whipped cream and caramel shavings and a chocolate stick or five sticking out- and Remy thought his coffee addiction was bad)

And after not seeing Remy after six months, only to find that he has made friends with a lot of other creatures made him so happy.

Then confused when they all dragged in this fairy therapist into their group. Where Logan asked for the occasional emotional advice (not at ALL related to Remus-), Janus made sure he got a better living space, Remus and Virgil gave him someone to talk to about darker cartoon ideas, Roman (after the 18 times he asked for a magical dress) started making cartoon-stuffs for him, and Patton...

Patton helped him realise that he was still very gay despite the AroAce that he was. He gave him head scritches when stressed, the help he needed trauma-wise, the cartoon marathons with the doggo using his legs as a pillow-

And Patton gave him someone to talk to about all his feelings about his clients (without breaking any rules ofc). And about his old friend and the terrible therapists that he’s met.

He will admit to anyone that he squealed when Janus told him that Patton was pan aroace. Seriously, just ask. He is not ashamed of his excitement of the fact that he has a CHANCE WITH THE CUTE WOLF DAD.

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jadienjaystoriesandart · 4 years ago

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*Laces fingers together with a smirk* Soooo, lots of people do Sanders Sides Halloween stuff, right? Well here’s my AU on this. Based kind of the Goosebumps movie, in that it’s about characters coming out of books, but it doesn’t follow the same plot except getting characters into the books again. You’ll see.

The Forevermore Night! (Forevermore AU.)

this AU mostly is a reader insert, would make it a choose your own adventure but I’m bad at those.

So, characters and plot, won’t spoil too much for plot but here’s the basics.

PLOT: You are an average college student getting by for another Halloween alone as usual watching scary movies, scrolling through Tumblr, and maybe going by yourself to a haunted house. That is until a package from your dear friend overseas comes in, it was your late/early birthday gift. Inside the box you find a series of books that your friend thinks you’d really like.

The Forevermore Series.

Supposedly it’s about different types of creatures who each haunt the reader in a choose your own adventure style. Seems pretty fun. And looks like there are 7 in total, perfect for a night of Halloween in your house.

The books normally come individually, but your friend got them in a bulk in one giant book. They always did know you. Halloween comes tomorrow as you settle down to get a headstart in reading. However, upon opening the book a ringing fills your ears and you’re out cold.

Upon waking the book in blank, and the seven characters turns out are very alive and seeking to cause mischief and find themselves a new host.

Now you and the writers of the books, Joan and Talyn, have to round of the characters and get them back into the story before you become their next host and may or may not cause the world to be plunged into the world of the Forevermore. With you as the King/Queen leader as a puppet for the creations.

However, something it’s quiet right, these people don’t act like book tales but rather real people. And Joan and Talyn refuses to answer any questions about how or why they are alive. Just that they were put into the books for a reason. There is more questions than answers, and you aren’t sure who your trust or who is telling the truth.

Because if they were put into the books, that would mean they used to be real people. But if that’s true... then why were they put into the books in the first place? And why are they so afraid that a man named Thomas got out?

CHARACTERS

Patton Hart aka The Doll Maker - Ever been afraid of dolls as a kid? Yeah here’s a reason why to be afraid. Each doll is made with special care and crafted by hand when made by the Hart Family. Made from all sorts of materials and made to look however you please. With such life likeness it’s easy to see why they are famous and so expensive. Patton loves each and every one of the kiddos he crafts, making sure only to have the best. Even if that means plunking the eyes from a naughty child to use for the perfect child. Or making a bad kid suffer so that the good kid can gain such soft skin. Naughty children should know better, but his kiddos are always well behaved. And always make the family happy. Parents deserve good children, the world does too. And who is going to miss such bad children anyway? Certainly not him or their parents, not when they have their perfect kid. And besides, bad kids make perfect parts for his little kiddos. As for teenagers and young adults, well Patton still has use for them, some parts are useable, but he always does need extra hands around the workshop. After all, it isn’t hard to rework the brain, and they are always so much nicer once he’s done. Yes, he love his kiddos, of all ages.

Roman Prince aka The Happy Ending - Every fairytale deserves their prince, their knight in shining armor, their hero. Such is Roman’s story, ‘The Happily Ever After’, the tale of a knight who saves princes and princesses, by basically kidnapping and enslaving them to his kingdom. The princesses bring much to his land, brave souls looking to rescue them, and the princes are pretty things to look at, which Roman loves. He is their hero, he saved them all and brought them to a place where they will always be happy. There is no time here, no pain here, no need for trivial mortal things. They are forever here, forever young and happy. Roman is such a nice knight to them, but some do need to be punished, he hates having to harm the ones he saves. But they need to know the outside world is horrible, here they are safe with him. With his powers to create whatever he wants, snap thing into existence, he’s very powerful. Prince of the Forevermore with his brother and previous king. He always is looking to add to his collection of pretty things. That or a good fight, which ever comes first.

Logan Adams aka The Mad Scientist - What would the world be without ethics on testing and creating? Well Logan is a good example of what happens when you throw our morals and feelings. Logan has made far advancements in the scientific field, if it wasn’t for the fact he likes to trap people for testing his newest creations. Logan is passive about life, being he found a way to make himself immortal he tends to disregard those who aren’t. Honestly mortality is just so stupid, when your life is condensed into a century at most. You have to play games to escape his traps, and use logic should he ask you do anything. To him, it’s all a game, he’s only interested in the end result. But he does enjoy a challenge, and if you can outsmart him, color him impress. He may even offer up a golden liquid to you as a reward. After all there aren’t many who can outsmart him.

Virgil Spider aka The Welcome Home Party - Remember that haunted house you were always afraid of? That always seemed like no one lived there. Then one day you gather up the courage to peak inside and see if it is haunted or abandoned. As you walk in the house seems lively, the hallway lit up in a nice warm glow. And you turn to see someone coming down the stairs. It’s your older brother, Virgil. Right, this is your house. You’ve lived here since you were a kid with your big brother. He’s happy your home asking what took you so long. What ever did take you so long? You can’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. Your big brother is always better than most other peoples brothers. Virgil always knows how you feel, and always does his best to make you happy. He gives the best kinds of hugs, and only ever opens up to you. You love your big brother after all, and he loves you too. Virgil loves all of his family, he loves to hold you, love the way you smell, the way your blood tastes on his tongue. You always seem to get weaker and sleepier each time Virgil holds you. Maybe you should rest for a bit, Virgil says he’ll keep watch, so no monsters come. You can trust him, he’s family. So what if he’s part spider, he’d never hurt you.

Remus Prince aka The Slimy Monster - There is a reason these books are rated for young adults. And it’s not just the gore and such, it’s when you read Book 5, that’s when it’s becomes clear. Remus is a slimy monster with eight tentacle like appendages. He lives in a camp for young adults in the lake, and the stories told of him are meant to keep campers out of the lakes at dark. Not that it always works, as most college students think they know everything. So when allured out to the water by the sweet sound of a siren, they don’t think twice. Guess that’s why so many go missing. Remus loves his trinkets and toys, he loves to drown them when they loose their usefulness. And he also loves the sounds they make when he does use them. By this point he’ll have enough children to make his species the dominate ones. Life is great for this sea monster, and it’s about to get even better.

Janus Silver aka The Great Magician - Everyone loves to watch magic shows right? Loves to get their palms read, the cards look at, and their futures unfold. Some people also love to go see hypnotists and see if they really can use a pocket watch to put them under. Ofcourse there is the risk factor and you have to sign a form to make sure you can go in. No one ever reads them anyway, just sums up your a willing participant. Called up to the stage by a handsome man that wears a half mask, taking your hands in warm gloved ones. Leading you to sit down, and just to relax. You do funny things on stage under his guide and such, unable to stop yourself. But not that you want to. Suddenly you find each time after you wake up in strange places. You start to lose hours of time, unable to recall what you were doing. Your mind is no longer your own, you respond to commands on the snap of gloved fingers. You obey, that’s all there is too it. And soon, your mindless, you’re his doll, his puppet, you do as he says. You’ll believe whatever you tells you, his little sleeper agent. What’s his goals, honestly no one knows, the two faced snake only speaks in riddles and lies. We can only hope he just likes to have people under his control and that there isn’t a deeper plan. Such as pure anarchy, or even starting the purge. Who knows what’s going through his mind. Moral of the story, always read the fine print.

Thomas Sanders aka The King and The Host - Not much is known about him, his story is still in the making. He’s locked far within the pages, but that’s what they want you to think. You’ve seen him alot, he’s in each of their stories. Even if you don’t know it. Put together the pages, it makes his story of what happened to him. That’s what he wants you to do after all, help him out. He’s been trapped for years, they trapped him with them. It was an accident, he swears. Question you should ask is... do you trust him?

Want to know more, I take asks! :D

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holyfuckthisfishcandrive · 4 years ago

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Shots and Guilt

First, Previous(Chap. 23), Ao3

Word count: 3610

Warnings: Gun, Blood and Injury, (kinda) Torture, Knives, Bloodlust, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Drinking and Driving, Gore, Skipping a Meal, Alcohol (even more of it), Guilt, Choking, Mention of Past Murder, Panic Attack, Self Harm

This really isn't a nice chapter. If anyone needs it I can make a summary of it. Just leave a comment or send me an ask if that's the case. Stay safe.

Virgil listened to the sound of the rain pattering against the car and the radio woman report what had happened in Aunt Lian's block earlier this night.

Glitch monsters.

He dug around the glove compartment until he found Uncle Remy's cigarettes, hidden under the ammunition, lit one and took a drag. He watched the smoke curl and opened the window just by an inch to release it into the night.

Destroyed street lights.

He glanced at the Seven11 Remy had disappeared in about half an hour ago and lit his lighter again, watching the tiny flame dance in the stale light of the car lamp.

Messed up electronics.

A shadowy figure stood next to his window and Virgil glanced over at them. They were holding a knife. Good for them.

"Fuck off," Virgil mumbled tiredly and took another drag.

"Open the car door if you know what's good for you, kid," the guy demanded.

Virgil couldn't help but chuckle at that. He took his feet off the headboard and sat up slowly.

"If I know what's good for myself? If you know what's good for yourself you're going to fucking piss off now!"

"Kid-!" he thrust the knife at the window gap and Virgil kicked open the door hitting them square on the chest. They stumbled back and growled. "I'm going to fucking kill you, brat!"

Vigil stepped out of the car, taking the butterfly knife and the colt from the glove compartment with him.

"No, you're not," he stepped on his cigarette to put it out.

The robber was big. About twice as tall and five times as wide as Virgil, all muscles and heavy bones.

But at the sight of the gun, he froze. An uneasy smile took the place of the angry grimace.

They were in a lonely and dark parking lot. Nobody would look out of the window if they heard a gunshot or scream.

"Kid, don't do anything you're gonna regret. I'm part of the Trulow family. They're gonna hunt you down if you shoot me. No ones gonna find you're body! I bet yer mother's gonna get worried sick if her kid doesn't come home!"

Again Virgil laughed humourlessly.

The rain was cold on his skin and his hair stuck to his face and neck but he couldn't care less. There was that feeling in his chest again that he knew Papa knew well, even if he never wanted to talk about it, the feeling he couldn't imagine living without even after being told a thousand times that it wasn't normal, that he wasn't supposed to talk about with people outside of the family. That intoxicating feeling - better than any liquor, pills or joint but no less dangerous. "It's what makes our kind what we are," Uncle Emile had once said. The man across from him knew it too. Virgil could tell. Otherwise, he wouldn't flinch back. Wouldn't be able to see it in Virgil's smile and his every movement like a bloody red threat.

The bloodlust felt like a promise in his lungs.

"Jokes on you," he slowly walked towards the man. "My mothers dead. And if you're really a Trulow, how come I've never seen you on the Christmas card? I'm sure I'd remember a face as ugly as yours."

"What-?" the man stumbled backwards.

"If you want to make it in this city you really ought to learn who to threaten and who's out of your league. You're just another sewer rat. I'm like a motherfucking prince to you."

The man fell back on his ass, crawling backwards.

"Run along now, rat. Wouldn't want mommy to worry, would we?"

The man scrambled to his feet and turned to run.

Virgil raised the gun, aimed and fired.

A scream cut through the air as the man crashed into the concrete.

He sobbed and whimpered, staring at the blood sprayed over the ground as if he couldn't believe it was his. As if the realisation that there was now a hole where his foot connected to his leg hadn't quite made its way into his thick head yet.

"Sorry," Virgil said as he got closer and knelt down next to him. "Couldn't resist. You better not tell my Pa about this."

He dug his hand into the wound until his fingers found the bullet, ignoring the pained screams.

"He hates when I use guns. Which I honestly don't get. I mean, he uses them all the time! Bloody double standards," he inspected the bloody bullet in his hand.

"Who- Who the fuck are you?" the man sobbed.

Virgil grinned. "Have you ever heard those rumours? About Professor Logic having a child?"

The man's eyes widened in terror.

Virgil heard the doors of the Seven11 slide open and stood up.

Remy raised an eyebrow as he got closer.

"Jesus, can't I leave you alone for five minutes?" he asked.

"That was half an hour. And he started it. He wanted to rob the car or something. I only used one bullet if that's what you're worried about," Virgil tossed the gun over to him and Remy caught it in his free hand.

"Whatever. Just get in the car, hon. I got slushies and alcohol. We can stop at Crispy Creme if you want to."

"Sure," Virgil picked up the knife the would-be robber had dropped and jogged back to the car. "I hope they have warm doughnuts."

"They better. Oh, and there should be some baby wipes in the glove compartment. I'm not letting you eat with that guy's blood on your hands. Who knows what's been in that-? Wait, did you steal one of my cigs?"

"...No," Virgil claimed and was suddenly very interested in cleaning every crevice of his hand.

"Don't fucking lie to me. Just don't smoke in the car next time and ask before you take one. Emile doesn't like when the car smells," Remy handed him one of the slushies.

"Sorry," Virgil took a long sip until the pain of bain freeze bloomed behind his forehead before digging around in Remy's bag until he found the alcohol..

"Pour me some in too, would ya?"

"Sure," Virgil unscrewed the cap and poured some in his own then a bit more in Remy's cup. "More or is this good?"

Remy glanced over at him.

"Who the fuck do you think I am?"

"More it is."

"Exactly."

"I swear you're that "Two shots of vodka" vine," Virgil shook his head.

Remy chuckled. "I take zero offence to that. Also, I gotta make sure you don't drink too much. You have school tomorrow."

"You're literally drinking and driving. And I'm going to school trollied tomorrow whether you like it or not."

"I think this is why your father hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. He can't. You and Uncle Emile are like his only friends."

"Doesn't he also have that flower boy?" Remy pulled into the Crispy Creme's parking lot.

"That's his boyfriend," Virgil corrected and took another sip. Slowly he felt the alcohol kick in.

"You mean your new father, then?"

"I guess. Not officially yet but hopefully soon. He's nice. On the other hand, if he moves in I'll have to hide my skull collection."

Virgil followed Remy out of the car and into the shop.

The sugary sweet smell of warm doughnuts filled the air.

Remy bought a box, tipped a twenty and pulled Virgil back out with him.

"I'm not letting you drink any more," he decided. "You're not going to school drunk, kid."

"Yes, I am. Fuck off and give me a doughnut."

"Either you stop drinking or you don't get any doughnuts."

Virgil glared at him and took a doughnut.

"Fine."

---

He still had a headache when he went to math class later.

He wasn't sure if it was just the hungover or also something else.

Not that it mattered. He had already learned the shit, the man, whose name he couldn't remember, was explaining incredibly badly at the blackboard.

Instead of paying attention he stared blankly out of the window.

Slowly the sleep deprivation was also starting to catch up with him, making his eyes heavy.

Janus had texted him that they wouldn't be coming to school for the day, which made it even more dull than usual.

He should have stayed drunk.

Then it at least would've been somewhat interesting.

Virgil woke up again to the sound of the school bell. He blinked a few times, trying to reorient himself and sighed.

At least math was over.

His next lesson was English, then Chemistry.

Or maybe he should just skip.

It wouldn't make a difference.

Maybe he could find a nice spot for the graffiti design he'd come up with based on the last body he'd found in the sewers.

The rats had eaten the fuckers stomach out and Virgil had set the eyebrows or rather what had been left of the eyebrows, on fire before taking a few pictures for reference.

He'd just have to come up with something for when Janus asked where he'd gotten the idea.

Virgil left the classroom and ducked into the nearest bathroom, locking the stall door behind himself before climbing out of the window. He wondered briefly how long it'd stay locked before someone noticed that it wasn't occupied at all. Probably at least until the toilets were cleaned. Whenever that'd be.

A sports teacher was preparing a lesson by the tracks but she was too focused on the task at hand to notice Virgil sneak to the fence and climb over it. He gave the school a middle finger over his shoulder as he walked away. For all he cared, every single person in there could go fuck themselves. Especially the principal.

Papa was working - at the university today - so Virgil went home to drop off his backpack and picked up his graffiti bag, headphones and the sketchbook he'd drawn the design in..

He strolled through the streets of downtown, avoided a few coppers and took an underground to take him wherever. As long as there were big empty walls there he didn't care.

He got out at the sixth stop.

Virgil didn't make a habit of spending time uptown.

Occasionally maybe, for family celebrations or when he and Janus planned heists but other than that he stayed in the part of town he had been raised in.

But that didn't mean that he didn't know the streets and alleyways, the shops, public buildings and skyscrapers made of glass, like towers out of a fairy tale. Papa was of the firm opinion that knowledge was power and he'd made sure that Virgil knew everything he needed about Woethough.

It didn't take him long to find a good wall.

The back of the main police station was just painfully boring.

Virgil pulled the half mask he used for vigilante business over his face, partly to avoid someone seeing his face and partly because of the fumes. Then he opened the sketch book and pulled two spray cans out of his bag, shaking them.

This'd be fun.

He worked far slower than usual, the anxiety over being spotted by the damned pigs making him pack up the cans he wasn't using immediately, so he'd be able to make a quick escape, and check for witnesses every five minutes.

By some miracle no one came by. For a while, he had the insistent feeling of being watched but couldn't find anyone.

He watched the flames, body and rats take shape with every colour he added until he got to the point where more would only make it worse.

Virgil took a few steps back and grinned. He signed it with his usual spider and took a photo to send Janus. They weren't online so he didn't bother waiting for a reply and packed up his stuff.

It was around noon now and he was getting hungry but ignored the feeling. He could eat later.

Instead he walked around some more, pickpocketed a businessman he recognized from TV - Mr Grimm or something like that - and bought a few new markers from the stolen money, before climbing onto the roof of a library to test them out.

At eight he took a train back to downtown.

It was already dark thanks to autumn finally taking over properly and most other teens were probably either suicidal, gang members or at home.

This was the beauty of the city.

As soon as the sun went down the few laws that were actually followed became meaningless.

Now the city belonged to the street rats and the lawless. They were all animals. From the racoons and possums, over the henchmen and thieves up to the mafia and his family.

All animals.

Hungry for blood.

Greedy and destructive.

Virgil absolutely loved it.

He passed a few of Uncle Jeremy's men beating up a cop with a crowbar in an alleyway, greeting him as he passed, watched a woman smash a chair over the head some guy who had tried to grope her, dishevelled and angry, and grinned at the raven and racoon, which were fighting viciously over some small animal one of them had killed.

There was a light burning in the living room when he got home. Not the ceiling light - it was far too muted for that.

He unlocked the front door and shut it behind himself. It was warm in here.

"I'm home!" he called, taking off his shoes and jacket.

No reply.

"Papa?"

Still no reply.

Virgil frowned, waiting for a moment longer and went into the living room.

Papa was slumped on the couch, fingers tracing an empty glass. Next to it on the table was an empty bottle of whiskey, that Virgil knew had been more than half full just this morning. He'd opened it after all.

Slowly Papa looked up as if only noticing him standing in the doorway now.

"...V'gil," he slurred.

"How much did you drink?" Virgil asked with a frown. He couldn't remember ever having seen Papa drunk.

He blinked at the bottle and gestured vaguely with one hand. "J'st a little."

Virgil sighed.

"Well, you clearly had enough. You're fucking trollied. Let's get you to bed, shall we? You'll hate yourself for this tomorrow, you know?"

"Already do," Papa mumbled as Virgil put his arm over his shoulder to support him.

Papa leaned on him heavily and Virgil staggered under the weight slightly but managed to bring him to the stairs, where Papa could also hold onto the bannister, taking some of the weight of his shoulders.

"You look so much like your mother," Papa suddenly said, just as they reached the second floor and Virgil almost let him fall in surprise.

Papa didn't talk about her.

He never did.

"She had her hair like that for a while too," Papa continued. "Then she grew it out longer. She looked so beautiful. Like an angel."

Virgil kicked open the door to Papa's room.

He didn't say anything, almost forgetting how to breathe. Papa was actually talking about her.

Carefully Virgil let him slide onto the bed and ducked to take off his shoes.

"I didn't mean to kill her," Papa said, anguish in his voice as he began combing through Virgil's hair with one hand. "I really didn't. I just- I just wanted to scare her."

His hand slid over Virgil's cheek slowly and even though Papa was looking at him Virgil had the feeling that he wasn't seeing him.

No.

Papa was seeing her.

"I didn't think it'd be that fragile," Papa's hand slid down further and settled on Virgil's neck. A jolt of panic shot through him. "I didn't think it'd break that easily."

Papa began to squeeze.

"I just grabbed her and pressed down."

His grip began to hurt and Virgil tried to gasp for breath, clawing at the hand on his throat.

"And then she was dead. Just like that."

Blackspots appeared in Virgil's vision and he swung out wildly.

His fist hit Papa on the temple and he collapsed onto the bed.

Virgil gasped and coughed, stumbling back towards the door and slammed it as soon as he was on the hallway.

He still couldn't breathe.

Why the fuck couldn't he breathe?!

His vision swam, from tears this time instead of lack of oxygen.

Was this how she had felt?

In her last moments, getting choked by the man she had loved and trusted?

He didn't want this. This panic in his chest keeping him from breathing and making the world around him blur. At least not because of Papa. Not him. Never because of Papa. Papa was supposed to be safe. Papa protected him. Papa helped him calm down.

Papa had just tried to kill him.

Virgil sobbed.

Papa had tried to kill him the same way he'd killed her.

Virgil barely remembered to grab his jacket as he ran out, slamming the front door and running down the dark street.

He stopped at the North Bridge and collapsed against the railing.

The air was now so cold it almost burned in his lungs as he finally managed to take a breath. His throat hurt. He carefully wrapped his hand around it. It'd bruise.

"You look so much like your mother."

Virgil stumbled on through the streets. His reflection in a dark shop window caught his attention and made him stop.

His cheeks were streaked with black. His eyes were covered almost completely by messy black hair.

So she had had shoulder-long hair at one point.

Virgil grabbed a hand full of hair and pulled at it until a few strands ripped off.

He stared down at them.

He didn't want Papa to see her in his place.

The lights of another store, also reflecting in the shop window he was standing in front of caught his attention.

Did they have bleach there?

He crossed the street.

The shop was empty and Virgil was barely aware of the song playing over the speakers, so quiet that it was drowned out by his mind.

He grabbed two cartons.

Bleach and the first hair dye his hand touched. He didn't care. He had no idea what colour her hair had been. He just didn't want black.

He didn't bother to wait for his change as he handed the cashier a twenty and fled the store.

Back at home, Virgil locked himself in the bathroom and ripped open the bleach carton, barely skimming the instructions.

The chemical smell filled the room as he spread it over his hair and when he was done he had to open a window to breathe.

He set a timer on his phone and busied himself with washing off his make up while he let it set.

Once he was done with that he began pulling at the skin of his arms and digging his nails into the scars to keep his thoughts from spiralling again.

The timer went off and he rinsed his hair out.

It was almost white now.

He ripped open the secong carton.

Purple.

For fucks sake.

He spread it over his hair, careful to get it everywhere.

If he was going to look stupid he might as well make sure it wasn't splotchy.

He wasn't hungry anymore but he still went into the kitchen and warmed up some soup, forcing himself to eat, despite the gag reflex that kicked in a few times.

Then he washed his hair again.

He didn't bother looking at the result before he grabbed the razor and scissors. Once he was done he pulled on a turtle neck to hide the forming bruise, poured a glass of water and grabbed an aspirin.

For a few minutes he stood in front of Papa's door, frozen until he managed to go in, put both items on the nightstand and immediately flee again.

Then he once again grabbed his jacket and left, locking the door behind himself.

He wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. At least not if he stayed here.

---

A knock on the window snapped Janus out of the half-asleep half-awake state they'd been in for hours.

Slowly they stood up, the floor cold against their bare feet, and frowned at the figure in the window.

They grabbed a glass water bottle as a weapon and cautiously opened it.

The figure slid inside.

"Virgil?" Janus frowned and set down the bottle. "The fuck are you doing here?!"

"You owe me," Virgil rasped. "Five nights. From that bet."

Janus blinked, their brain catching up slowly.

"The one we made for my parent's wedding?"

Virgil nodded.

He was upset. Even in the dark Janus could tell.

They closed the window, cutting off the cold draft, and Virgil took off his shoes.

For a moment they contemplated what to say.

They were sure that something had happened.

They just didn't know what.

"I won't ask," they finally said, "but if you want to talk... I'm here for you, okay?"

Virgil nodded.

"Thanks."

He didn't say anything else. His voice was hoarse.

Janus led him over to their bed and climbed in, letting him follow.

He'd cut his hair.

It also looked lighter than usual, though they couldn't be sure in the bad lighting.

Janus had almost fallen asleep again when they hear a muffled sob.

They looked over at Virgil again.

He was crying.

So something bad had happened.

For a moment they hesitated before they wrapped their arms around Virgil and pulled him against their chest.

"It'll be okay," they promised.

Virgil just latched onto them and buried his face in their shirt.

Taglist:

@patton-cake , @isabelle-stars

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #remy sanders #ts remy #logan sanders #ts logan #janus sanders #ts janus #alcohol #gun #tw blood #im so so so sorry #my writing #au #woethough au #angst

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