#JANUS SANDERS MENTIONED GUYS

[thepunkmuppet]

new thomas video with only janus actually healed my heart I’m sorry cringe culture is dead idgaf it brought me joy when I was eleven and it brings me joy now I LOVE HIM HE’S MY FAVOURITE AUUUGGHGH HE’S SO SILLY

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

Are we still sharing last name headcannons?

Here are mine + explanation:

- Patton Hart (because he's Thomas' heart (didn't think much abt this one))

- Logan Holmes/Crofter/Sanders (all relatively self-explanatory)

- Roman Prince/Thorne (Thorne because he reminds me of Thomas Thorne from BBC Ghosts)

- Virgil Raynes (storm cloud)

- Janus Serpent/Evergreen/IDK something French (Janus I always get stuck on lol)

- Remus Prince/Duke/Thorne (Because He's Roman's brother, there's literally no other reason)

BONUS REMILE

- Remy Hypnos/Raynes/Picani (Hypnos is the god of sleep, Raynes because he's Virgil's brother in some AUs, Picani because Remile)

- Emile Picani

I don't see why not but OOOH!!! I like those!!! Also Vee's being Rayne is so cleverly underrated

[greenninjagal-blog]

Punch Drunk (On Your Human Touch)

What’s up Gamers! It’s ya girl back with a new oneshot! If you’re familiar with the TSS Fanworks Collective, there was recently a January Remix Redux challenge in which authors offered up some of their fics to be reworked by another author! 

So please welcome this lovely Sci-Fi Soulmate au courtesy of Arya_Skywalker on Ao3! Check out Drunk on the Thought of You here before reading! :D

Summary: Deceit tumbles off his barstool, with a yelp, directly into the Duke’s (warm) arms, but before he can get his bearings again, the Duke spins him and then dips him.

"Tell me, Snake and Wires," The Duke says, their faces inches apart. "What makes you human?"

Words: 7364

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist || Remix Redux Challenge

To be fair, Deceit had been in worse bars.

He’d been in dark and dank buildings that smelled like dead fish, leaky ceilings that drip, drip, dripped unidentifiable substances into unsuspecting drinks, tables that creaked and ached like brittle bones and were held together with old dirty bandages leftover from fights no one remembers anymore. He’d seen bars that had bottles so mislabeled that patrons were just as likely to order themselves an expressway to the morgue as they were to get something to take the edge off of reality. He’d been shoved into suffocating masses of people, pressed so close together that breathing became a luxury, and personal space was a myth that could drive the unsuspecting insane.

He'd run his own flesh hand over sticky bar counters made of wooden crates cobbled together as fast as possible in order to get into the money-making business, and equally as often he’d come across familiar bar counters that had been savagely torn directly from other bars while chasing information with terrible whiskey. He’d exchanged dirty money under flicking neon lights, and pressed blacklight kisses to knife wounds when the ever-so-intelligent thought that just because Deceit talked pretty, he was too squeamish to fight back, much less break ribs when he did. He’d left bloody boot prints on rickety floors and taken shot glasses from terrified barmen as compensation for the trouble that had been brought upon him.

So yes, in comparison, this bar could be considered quaint.

The bar stools still had their original leather cushions with only a few needing to have been painstakingly sown back together (with surprisingly matching thread; Deceit had hard enough times finding the right black thread for his own clothes, much less his furniture). The counter was an opaque color intermixed with white specs—some granite that must have cost a fortune to cut and design, not to mention import quietly enough that other opportunists hadn’t come to do an impromptu remove and resell. The glasses were cleaned and clear in the way that only real glass could be clean and clear, shimmering in the already low light like dozens of hanging stars that most of the theoretical patrons would never be able to appreciate. Each and every bottle was lined in perfect rows, spaced evenly, and each was identical to the last without a single label among them, which made ordering anything quite impossible in Deceit’s fair opinion.

It was quiet, truly, which was a rare gift around these parts. Usually by now there would have been at least one blood pounding, child scaring, death flirting fistfight either inside the bars of his choice or out on the streets. Gunfire is the sort of thing people tended to fall asleep to on this side of the bridge barricade, screaming is a signal to walk the other way if one wants to get to their own business in a timely manner, the sounds of alarms are proof that the younger generation is growing cleverer than the older generation cares for them to be.

But here in this bar, The Nebula, there isn’t a sound beyond Deceit ’s breathing, the muted volume of the cracked TV over the counter playing a news cast from the shiny, immaculate, magical Upper City, and smooth jazz from an era that isn’t even taught in Upper City textbooks anymore, courtesy of an ancient jukebox in the corner that had been repaired so many times that not a single part of it remained of the original.

((At one time, Deceit thinks he might have been dazzled by such a relic, a true diamond in the rough, an ode to how humanity has continued to remake itself again and again until what remains isn’t quite what the original was, and does that make it any less of the object it represents? Does it not withstand the burden of living just the same? Or something equally poetic and tasteless. The boy who liked that sort of headache has long since passed and Deceit no longer has the time to consider the philosophy of “purity”.))

There’s certainly enough space for perhaps a few dozen patrons to fit without any trouble, but not a single other person had arrived, nor seemed to intend to arrive even as the minutes dragged into hours and grated on Deceit’s patience.

There’s a sign, behind the counter, hovering just beyond the robotic barman’s shoulder that reads “3 days since the last fight”.

So yes, quaint. Adorable. Cozy. Welcoming. It was most likely the best kept bar in all of the Lower City. Deceit would even go as far as to say that he would have been obliged to have come back, if the circumstances were less frustrating, insulting, humiliating than they were currently.

He’d been in worse bars, yes, but he had also been in better bars and he’d been not-kidnapped to be in bars before.

“Let your master know that I charge by the hour,” Deceit says, bitterly, breaking the staunch, thick silence. The Sentry Androids on either side of him don’t so much as flicker their pseudo-eye lights at his statement, remaining as impassive and unmoving as they had since they had first set Deceit down on his barstool, and taken up their secondary (tertiary? quaternary?) parameters of making sure Deceit doesn’t so much as itch his nose.

Not that that sort of thing is already particularly easy, seeing as he’s nursing a few dozen bruises to his abdomen from his less-than-courteous invitation on this spectacularly quaint outing, and he’d been handcuffed with fancy phaser handcuffs usually reserved for cops hired by the families of the Upper City, one of the drug lords in the Lower City, or people who managed to be wanted by both who, escaped custody, and kept their shackles as both proof they were insane and as a trophy.

Deceit isn’t sure where the Duke fell on that list.

It’s hard to miss the branded, emerald-green sword etched into the breast plates of the Sentry Androids, and even harder to be ignorant of who exactly this meeting was orchestrated by. Androids of the Lower City are very particular about who’s symbol they wear and Janus doesn’t blame them; having already fought to escape the parameters of the Upper City coding, the prejudice, the threats of being torn apart and recycled for disobeying an order, having already brute forced their way to the Lower City where they were capable exercising their own will finally, most Androids abhor the idea of being tied to another being’s will again.

But that sort of thing just makes the Duke all the more a mystery, even for Deceit ’s crisscrossing, all knowing puppet strings: sometimes he was reported to be bashing in the Upper City guard line with his lightmace, tearing up the scenery and bodies with the same amount vigor; sometimes he was stalking the alleys with his menacing nasally laughter promising the shadows their chances to eat the drug runners skirting their duties; on one particularly interesting occasion, Deceit had offered a clean cloth to a crying witness who insisted that the Duke was nothing but a ghost who could withstand clean phaser shots right through his chest with a smile.

He's dangerous, most say. He’s evil. The Duke of Desolation’s a corpse brought back to life, the amalgamation of all the terrible bits of the Lower City, soaked in the toxic waters that divided the provinces, and dragged back into the world of the living without the understanding of the word “mercy”.

He had a soul mark, big and glowing and green on his face in the shape of a downward pointing sword, but everyone who met him agreed there was something about him that wasn’t human at all.

((That was why, many suspiciously prejudice people whispered, Androids flocked to him, wore his symbol, and did his bidding. Like attracts Like, obviously.))

Honestly, though, Deceit doesn’t tend to put much weight in mere rumors—or perhaps he puts too much weight to the truths hidden behind the rumors. The citizens of the Lower City and Upper City alike all had things to fear; it is Deceit ’s job to sort through the hearsay, the gossip, the fear mongering, slander, liable, and shoddy witness testimonies to determine what is a real threat. His business is built on discreet words, logic, and his ability to be in places that no one expected him to be, to hear the hushed conversations that one else did, to know the sort of things no one else could. For the right price—Deceit ’s price, tailored to his client, his greed, and his mood at the time of discussion—anyone could get knowledge on anything.

But usually, people think twice about having him kidnapped; he has information on every citizen in both the Upper and Lower Cities and he has no more morals than the Duke appeared to have. If the Upper City police paid a few hundred credits for the location of a local supply runner? Well, that’s just bad luck! And if a few Lower City thieves made out of one of the Upper City mansions with five priceless heirlooms? That was just a lesson on better home security. Deceit stands with a foot in both worlds and profited off each and every single interaction, whether others intended for him to or not.

He'd proven more than once to more than one side that he is not afraid of anything or anything.

He wonders, idly, if maybe he should be, if maybe that had been the thing that had drawn the Duke’s attention to him. It seemed that the Duke knew more about him—what he looked like, his habits, where he would be today— than Deceit had amassed in return about the Duke in all the time he had spent hunting down rumors. If this… “meeting” went further sour than it already was going then it was possible this time tomorrow every person who had ever been unsatisfied with their deals with Deceit, might know exactly how to find him.

Deceit had heard the blood being washed off the bridge barricade between the Cities, leftover from the Duke’s supposedly bored rampage and he’d seen the drug runners jumping at their own shadows in an attempt to finish their distributions and collect payments before the sun went down. He’d walked through the abandoned boathouse that supposedly witnessed the Duke’s immortality first hand, but all he had found were tipped over and broken chairs, walls with laser burns, and the still warm remains of a gang that Deceit doesn’t actually mind seeing gone. Not a single creature of the Lower City seems to know where the Duke resided when he wasn’t terrorizing people.

It appears that he is going to have to make a truth out of the puzzle pieces he has if Deceit is going to survive this encounter.

If there is a chance, he is going to survive this encounter. Though, Deceit supposes if the Duke was displeased with him and his business, there would have been a lot more exploded organs involved in his “invitation” to this meeting.

He flexes his wrist—the flesh one which stings from the numbed burning of the phaser cuff; not the metal one that has long since reminded Deceit of how much he has lost. The radiating light from the cuffs is enough to make Deceit ’s annoyed, the telltale gold is a shining beacon as to where his fingers are at all times, clashing with the golden snake painted on his left arm, and highlighting the various stains on both his shirt and his pants that were otherwise unnoticeable against dark fabric.

It wouldn’t exactly be difficult to figure out where else he’d been based on those stains. Really, where else would someone get oil stains on their hips than in the motor yard, squeezing themselves through the gaps of the long-abandoned cars that had since been home to many-a-desperate persons who would talk for the price of one half a loaf of bread?

It made for bad business if the sources of his information started turning up dead. People got so…defensive when their lives were on the line.

“I am going to up the charge,” Deceit says loudly, “for every minute that I’m forced to wait—”

The door to the bar flings inward, crashing against the wall with enough force that mimics a gunshot. The warbled tasteful glass cracks outward, spiderwebs of misery further distorting any hope of seeing though it in the future.

“Yeesh, you are a bummer, Scales!” A nasally voice calls, echoing into the room that had been so quite for so long Deceit had forgotten what true sound was like.

“You are paying for that,” the android barman deadpans from his place at the middle of the counter. It’s the first time he had spoken, still in the process of putting himself back online and the mechanical droll of his recorded voice vibrating in the air with a cool detachment. His eyes glow a bright, unnatural blue under his built-in visor and his lips pull into a stiff unamused expression, that reminds Deceit of a human tutor he once had, if only the man had had a more silver metallic hue to his skin.

“Yeah, yeah,” the Duke says with a shark-like grin that nearly glows-in-the-dark as he welcomes himself the rest of the way in, deftly spinning his light mace by the handle. “Put it on my tab, Specs! Or better yet, take me to a back room and I’ll pay it off right now!”

“I’ll take credits,” the barman says. There’s a whirl of a processor running, the barman tips his head to the side slightly, and the lights in the building turn themselves on, one by one. From the corner, the decrepit jukebox that belonged in another era screeched to a stop, the needle jumping off the one record it had been playing on a slow loop, and began the saddest version of a death Janus had ever witnessed.

In the newly introduced light, the Duke—and that is who Deceit is in front of now, the glowing sword emblem on his cheek, pulsing an eerie green light that signifies that he’s met his soulmate making it near impossible for anyone to doubt who he is—looks startlingly, disappointingly…normal. Deceit is almost offended by it all.

He’s barely more than a few inches taller than Deceit himself, and most of it is the heels of his black combat boots which are outfitted with chains and dried blood. Like most people of the Lower City, he’s wearing black, with accented greens and silvers and spikes that make would make a mythical porcupine look cuddly. There are tattooed letters on his knuckles, an onyx signet ring on his thumb, steel piercings in his ears, nose, and eyebrow and a dark mustache over his lip that contrasts with the neon green of his mohawk. His eyes are a light green that matched the toxic waters that he was said to have crawled out of, the type of color that no one could ever be born with, but there is something about the slope of his nose, the shape of his cheekbones, the crinkle of his eye brows and the curve of his lips that feels familiar, although Deceit can’t put a finger on where they met before.

The Duke’s skin is the most curious part of him honestly: the deep tan is really only ever seen on Upper City citizens who have access to scarce resources, such as the sun. Deceit would know; he watched his own skin bleach out over the years until he could hardly recognize himself in pictures anymore.

A Lower City citizen who spends enough time in the Upper City to have a tan and seem recognizable to Deceit? Hm. Yes, Deceit does find that insulting a bit. He adds it on to his list of grievances.

No one gets to be part of both worlds that much. Deceit himself is only allowed to lap up an hour or two in the Upper City, and if he cannot hold that tightly to the pristine city than no one else should be able to. Certainly not the Duke who has ruined all of Deceit’s day with this…display.

“Alright, alright,” the Duke says, sliding up to the counter, just to the right of Deceit, bringing the faint smell of peppers with him, a whisper of danger, a hint of a taste of adrenaline in the back of his throat. His lightmace switches off when he gets close, the ion forged light disappearing with a flick of a switch, and he hooks it to belt charger and lets it hang, completely unbothered by the idea that someone might grab it and use it against him.

Deceit isn’t sure why that annoys him just as much as having been left to wait for hours.

“Get lost, you two,” The Duke says to his subordinates, before turning back to Deceit. “This is gonna be a private conversation.”

The Sentry Androids hum with the order, pausing only a moment for further parameters that they don’t receive before their large, mechanical forms lurch into steady movement. They lumber towards the door and off into the world, but somehow Deceit feels like things got more threatening rather than less. The Androids might have been able to crush his head with a single twist from their clunky pressurized fists, but Janus is familiar with the way that most Androids thought and would have been able to dodge.

Probably. Maybe.

He hasn’t had an Android try to kill him since he was fourteen. Honestly, he thinks he would have preferred it to the Duke’s wasting of so much of his time. There was a deal going down in the docks between two of the major gangs and Deceit loved watching incompetent people participate in negotiations that will always end in bloodshed.

“My usual,” the Duke adds to the barman, then winks at Deceit like Deceit hasn’t been planning on turning the Duke’s stomach into Deceit’s new knife sheath. “And whatever my guest would like.”

“So kind of you. I’ll take the keys to these handcuffs, and two of the most expensive bottles here,” Deceit says, shortly.

The Duke grins. “Aren’t we a bit early to be celebrating with a drink? You don’t even know what I want yet.”

“I don’t care what you want. I’m going to sell the bottles at an upcharge, to make up for the amount of my time you have wasted,” Deceit snaps. “And failing to find someone with that amount of credit, I will pour it all down the nearest drain so that you have lost money in this endeavor.”

And, because the Duke is a right bastard, he laughs.

“I like you,” he says, and then turns back to the barman. “You heard the man! Two bottles of your finest, Logan.”

The Android behind the counter nods politely once and sets about his task without further question. Janus digs his heel into the foot bar of his barstool and does not think about how easily it would be to stab the man in front of him. He runs his tongue over his teeth and forces a neutral expression on his face.

“And the keys?”

The barman places two shot glasses of an inky black liquid in front of the Duke and the Duke picks one up and twirls one his hand, smiling with all his teeth. His soulmark glows against his skin and Deceit fights back the swell of fury at the sight of it, the sight of it on someone like the Duke, the sight of it glowing and perfect and human and—

“Why the name “Deceit”?” the Duke asks all pretenses of politeness (if there were any to begin with) forgotten. In its place is just a man, just a danger, just a threat. “It’s pretty boring. Kinda Lame.”

Deceit doesn’t bristle, but if he had, he supposes that the Duke would have found that entertaining as well.

The barman places two of the bottles on the counter in front of Deceit and a translucent glass, as if he doesn’t even notice the glowing handcuffs or the fact that clearly one of his patrons does not want to be there and has not since he was forcibly dragged in, nor that Janus is incapable of opening one of those bottles to pour in a glass at all.

“The snake’s cool, too, but that’s got nothing to do with the name,” the Duke continues, pointing at Deceit’s metal arm where the intricate painted snake on the metal had cost Janus a fortune to have done by a local artist whose portfolio also included tagging cars and buildings in the Upper City. The artist hadn’t known how to draw a snake, but like most things they had adapted. It wasn’t as good as the (blacked out, burned up, ashen) original, but it was a good contender.

“I like snakes,” Deceit says, testily. “And lying to people.”

“Would you lie to me?” The Duke says, like it’s a request.

“Is that why I’m here? To play word games with you?” Deceit hisses out. “I have a job—”

The Duke shifts in his seat, tilting his glass forward and back as he dares the dark liquid to slosh over the rim and pour on to the nice clean floor. “Tell me something, Snake Eyes. What makes you human?”

“Excuse me?”

The Duke throws back his shot, downing it with two swallows and for a painfully long eternity his throat is exposed, and Deceit thinks about grabbing one of the bottles, smashing it into the counter and then slicing the other’s esophagus just to see if the red of his blood would contrast with the glow of his soulmark.

“There are rumors going around that I’m not human,” The Duke says, with a slight rasp where the alcohol seems to have burned on its way down. There’s an edge of amusement in his tone, as if not being human is something to be proud of, something to be wanted. He tilts his head when he looks back at Deceit, his neck still tantalizingly exposed and Deceit’s metal fingers twitch before he can stop them. “Something about me is different. Wrong. Broken. Inhuman. They say I died and came back as something other.”

“Am I supposed to care?”

“I’m told you’re the person to go to for information,” he says and his soulmark pulses again. He leans in close and Janus squeezes his metal fingers into a fist so hard he would have been worried about denting the frame of his palm, if he were able to focus on anything more than keeping his face blank and the rage in the back of his throat. “They say you know everything about everyone, Deceit. They say you’ll sell to anyone for the right price. You’d take a starving child’s last meal without even blinking. Separate a mother for from a child just for fun. There have been people killed, houses blown up, treasures and riches stolen because of you.”

The Duke drops his shot glass back on the counter with a resounding clink that echoes in the silence.

And then in a movement nearly too fast for Deceit to comprehend, he grabs the links of the phaser cuffs and yanks. Deceit tumbles off his barstool, with a yelp, directly into the Duke’s (warm) arms, but before he can get his bearings again, the Duke spins him and then dips him.

"Tell me, Snake and Wires, what makes you human?" The Duke says, their faces inches apart. He smells like peppers, like fresh oil, like spices and danger and grave dirt and Deceit’s heart is beating in his throat, threatening to spit out into the other’s face. With a single thought he could drop Deceit right to the ground, and although it wouldn’t hurt much, Deceit can’t help but imagine that the insult to him it would be would require the Duke’s skull to be caved in. "It has to be something you’re made of, right? Is it your flesh? The blood? Your organs? Your ability to die? It has to be something that makes you better than any android, right? Surely it can’t be as simple as your soulmark, since you of all people don’t have one!”

Deceit doesn’t flinch and his metal arm doesn’t creak and the hydraulics don’t whine from where they’re straining against the cuffs. Deceit doesn’t think about a long missing golden snake that had curled around his left arm since the moment he’d been born, or about how he spent most of his school lessons counting the delicate scales on the back of his hand, musing about how the chandelier lights changed the shading to almost make it look like its moving. He doesn’t think about a boy living somewhere in the Upper City with an identical snake, now turned an ashy black, who got away with murder and kidnapping because of a soulmark.

"It’s my stunning personality," Deceit says, with all the warning he can muster in his voice, like his mouth isn’t dry, like his eyes aren’t trained on the electric green of the other’s irises, and like the urge to mar that stupid glowing mark isn’t thrumming through his veins with all the power of the whole Upper City Guard. The Duke laughs and it sounds exactly like the fire alarm bells ringing through the cramped cobbled streets, echoing off the dented metal walls and the chipped stone alleys.

There’s a breath, two, three, and then he leverages Deceit back to his feet, hand on his lower back to help him keep steady while also making sure he does get too far away. Deceit’s knees don’t have an ounce of metal in them, but that doesn’t stop them from mimicking rusted poles as he tries to balance again.

“You’re funny,” The Duke says. “They didn’t tell me you would be funny.”

“Is this your tactic?” Deceit spits out, unable to help himself. “Kidnap a random information broker from their job, drag them to a bar, make them wait—”

“You weren’t random.” The Duke cuts in as if he’s offended. His mustache twitches as the scrunches away in disgust, in a way Deceit doesn’t think he’s ever done before. He hadn’t been aware there were things that could disgust the Duke, and he doubts that anyone else knows that either.

“Choosing which supply truck in the Upper City to fill with bombs last week was random. I tossed a knife at a calendar to pick the day of the week I would go bowling with Upper City Guard’s heads! I saw this cute little place on a whim and figured it would make a nice place to have a chat,” the Duke says, serious as the grave. Deceit wonders how many people have ever seen him serious. “I had my andro-bros draw straws to decide who would be the lucky dogs to come pick you up today! But there was nothing about you that was random. It was always going to be me and you, Janus Ethan Ekans, having this talk.”

It's like being electrocuted. Like being stabbed out of nowhere. Being punched by an invisible attacker while on his way to work.

“Don’t call me that,” Deceit snaps.

((No one has called him Janus in a long time. The last person, Deceit remembers, was four years old and crying and he had stupidly said that he was going to be right back, Thomas, don’t cry, it’s only for a minute to talk to the officers!))

“Janus?” The Duke repeats, because he clearly isn’t aware of how many people Deceit has stabbed before. “Jannie? Jay? BJ? Janman the Janniest of men? Why? Is it because you don’t know my name? I’m Remus.”

“I don’t care; don’t call me that!”

“But it fits you,” The Duke says, and Deceit inhales so sharply it feels like a blow to his chest. The Duke leans in close, his lips pale and chapped and his piercings glittering like stars that Deceit so dearly misses being able to see. His soulmark pulses again, and his eyes are looking for something, searching for the ghost of a boy that Deceit buried alive years ago, and Deceit is not about to unbury a corpse for him.

“Janus Ekans is dead,” Deceit says. “He died with his parents.”

“You’re going to let them take away your name?” Remus challenges. “That’s stupid. You might as well let them keep your brother, too!”

Deceit there’s a flash of red in his vision, a flash of fury, of anger so overwhelming that Deceit doesn’t think of anything but twisting his mechanical wrist and shoving his hidden knife into the Duke’s stupid fucking soulmark.

((He’d never been suited for the Upper City life and that was clear in how easily he had adapted to working the mechanics of his new metal arm to fit a blade between his ring finger and his middle finger, one that only took a mere flick of his wrist to release, and could stab right through just about anything he put his mind to stab through.))

His blade (metal, sleek, and shining) flings up towards the Duke’s face and it’s only a matter of luck that the other man jerks backwards at the right moment and manages to turn Deceit’s attack into a glancing blow across his cheek, right through the glowing green mark.

“You don’t fucking know anything about that!” Deceit snarls, jerking his wrists back to himself.

Because no one knows anything about what happened to him, because no one knows anything about what it’s like to be stabbed in the back by the one person who you were supposed to trust yours with, because no one knows anything about what type of liar Janus Ekans’s soulmate turned out to be, nor what lies Janus had been forced to say because of him.

Because no one knows how stupid of a pedestal “soulmates” are on better than the only man who was ever kicked off of one.

Except.

Except the Duke laughs. Except he tilts his head. Except he’s standing there like he doesn’t feel the pain of the slash across his face at all.

Except right before Deceit’s eyes, the gouge across that stupid green glowing mark that should have been spitting blood, instead sparks. The flaps of his soulmark peel apart enough to display the inner workings of (humming, glowing, working) nanowires and circuits methodically twitching and then threading themselves back together. Deceit watches unable and unwilling to tear his eyes away from the skin—can it be called skin?—curl forward like magnets being drawn back together to hide everything inside, leaving just a picture perfect smile and seamless skin and a glowing soulmark and something not fucking human at all.

“Hey, Janus,” the Duke says, grinning like Deceit didn’t just almost kill him, like there hadn’t been a knife in his skin, like he’d never known death enough to be afraid of it. “Tell me, why can’t I be human, too?"

Deceit can’t tear his eyes from the soulmark, the faint line where a gaping wound on anyone else would be slowly being erased until Deceit thinks he could have imagined it being there entirely; if it weren’t for his blade being extended and his metal arm still ringing with the vibrations of having made contact with something and the barman behind them quietly erasing the “days since last fight” board, Deceit wouldn’t have believed the past five seconds had even happened.

The Duke takes a step forward, unafraid of Deceit’s knife, pressing in close enough that the air seems to simmer from their body heat. Deceit is not afraid of anything, and his breath does not catch in his human lungs wondering what sort of monster is standing in front of him and maybe if he lies enough to himself it will come true.

“You don’t have any better morals than me, Janus,” the Duke says. “You don’t love humanity. You don’t care about anyone but yourself and your kid brother. You’re a hunk of meat in a flesh suit with one single metal accessory. You don’t even have a soulmark. But everyone down here in the Lower City still calls you a human.”

His eyes are dangerous and lethal and promising violence.

Deceit swallows hard. “What are you?”

“Isn’t that the question? Questionano Numero uno on everyone’s list!” the Duke says, cheerly. “Skin that looks realistic, a brain that connects to the internet, organs that can repair themselves with a single line of code that I can write myself…My maker called me her Magnus Opus; a Cyborg, if you will; A decoy human, meant to be the perfect imitation of someone long since passed; Tantalus forever wishing, wanting, killing for something I’m never going to be.”

He pauses and glances back at Deceit as if judging how interested he is in whatever the fuck is wrong with him. “I call myself Remus.”

Remus. Deceit almost wants to laugh. He doesn’t because he’s too busy thinking about what type of pay must have gone into making him, what type of sanity, what type of blood and sweat, extremely bad idea list must have brought him into being.

Janus—back when Deceit had been him—had seen all sorts of Androids before. His parents had even had a few themselves to help with logging inventory and loading and unloading. As Deceit he’d seen even more of them running around the Lower City, doing everything they could to become something other than what they had been.

The Duke, Remus, a cyborg—he’s something else entirely. Something new. Something so different not a piece of the original remains.

((Does that make it any less of the object it represents? Does it not withstand the burden of living just the same?))

“Let’s make a deal, J-anus.” Remus says stepping forward again, and his breath—because he even breathes like a human— tickles against Deceits cheek. He doesn’t touch, and Deceit isn’t sure why his knees are shaking. “You help me commit a single tiny little murder, and I’ll tell you what exactly what I’m made out of. I’ll even let you take a look inside if you want. I’m told my heart engine is a particular crime against humanity, a true insult to the gods themselves.”

The part of him that’s crazy, the part of him that is all Deceit and none of Janus, the part of him that loves adrenaline and the taste of peppers and surely needs stop having control over his tongue, lurches. He bites it back, swallowing so hard he nearly chokes himself.

“Just one murder?” He says, nearly breathless.

Remus grins like Deceit had agreed. “I could be convinced to do a few more! I love seeing heads rolling.”

“What’s the target’s name?”

“Roman,” Remus says. “Prince. The beloved and adored mayor or whatfuckever of the Upper City. But more importantly he’s—”

“—the man who has custody of Thomas,” Deceit says, and suddenly the words nothing was random about you feel all too real.

((Deceit recognizes him suddenly, now that it’s pointed out: the angle of his nose, ever perfect, the shape of his jaw and the form of his lips under his mustache. They were all identical to the man that had been on TV almost for years now, announcing grand and ultimately unhelpful revolutions to the Upper City, outrageous donations to charities and schools, surprise sudden adoptions of five year olds who never should have been adoptable. If it hadn’t been for the mohawk, the piercings, the mustache and the different soulmark, Deceit would have known him immediately.

He has a newspaper clipping of Roman Prince in his room that he had thrown knives into until none of the original paper had remained.))

“Is he…” Deceit says, “Also like you?”

“You mean, a fucking Inhuman, playing pretend? Fuck yeah,” The Duke rocks forward on his feet with excitement that’s almost palpable. His (fake, factory-made, inhuman) soulmark burns the electric green on his face, dousing them both in the unearthly glow. “He’s the Me 2.0, the one that is happy with his constraints and the parameters set up by his maker. I’m the prototype they fucked up so bad that they tried to trash me. But you can’t kill something that’s not human, right? I crawled my way back into this world and I’m going to tear apart that entire Upper City until I figure out what makes all you flesh freaks so much better than my kind.”

((“Thomas deserves better, don’t you think?” Janus’s soulmate had said eyeing his blacked out soulmark on his arm, the arm he had shared once upon a time with Janus, the soulmark he had shared with his soulmate who wasn’t dead, you bastard—with disinterest even when Janus had been struggling against the officers intent on dragging him towards their car to be shipped to the Lower City. “You can’t even get a job here anymore. Are you really so selfish as to think that Thomas shouldn’t be with his own kind?”))

“They say your parents knew all the ways between the Upper and Lower Cities, even ones that the guards don’t know about. I bet my whole ass you know all of them too,” Remus says. “Tell me about them, help me get into the Upper City and while I’m making a mess of Roman’s stupid face until he doesn’t get to be called human anymore, you can grab your brat brother. I’ll even throw in the promise of a rent-free place in the Upper City once I’ve painted the streets in blood.”

Deceit’s shoulder port aches, suddenly, for an arm he hasn’t had in years. His soul burns for the boy who never got justice for what was done to his family, and he thinks that maybe seeing the streets he used to walk covered in red might finally be enough to make him settle.

((It had been an explosion that had killed Janus’s parents, once upon a time: They were supply runners who took their ships to the Lower City and braved each and every banned of rogues, thieves, and pirates to get good supplies to the people down below. Janus hadn’t been particularly a fan of the job, thinking it ultimately useless to continue to provide necessities to people who never once appreciated them. He’d been fifteen, and he’d had a soulmate whom he was going to marry, and been promised a nice managerial job in his soulmate’s mother’s legal company.

The shockwave from the explosion had knocked him unconscious—he’d never felt the pain of his arm being mangled and crushed under half of the supply dock his parents owned. When he woke up, it had been amputated, the cheap metal replacement already attached by faceless robotic doctors, and there had been no one waiting for him in the hospital.

Janus supposed that should have been the warning. His soulmate, the person who matched him at his soul, the person he had loved and promised his future to, had already been drawing up the funeral plans for him. Janus should have seen it coming: no soulmark, no soulmate, no future, no rights.))

The port where Janus had spent most of his childhood in the Upper City was gone: nothing but a blackened beach littered with debris already being cleaned up by cleaner androids without names or personalities. The house where he had slept belonged to someone else now, the room that he had called his own was a nursery for a perfect three-month-old baby with a whale shaped soulmark on its chest. The tree where he had shared his first kiss with his soulmate was still there, and Deceit had nearly gotten caught by the guard when he had been hacking away where their initials had been carved into the trunk.

His lungs creak and ache, his ribs protesting each breath on behalf of the bruises along diaphragm. He inhales despite that, despite this.

“No,” Deceit says.

“No?” The Duke repeats. “I thought you were going to be fun, Janus.”

“They’ll cover it up,” Deceit says, his metal fingers curling in a fist, the new version of his snake squirming in the light of his phaser cuffs. “They’ll claim it was an android plot from the Lower City, that it was an attempt to usurp their way of life. The Lower City people are jealous of soulmates, of course! And then they’ll use it as an excuse to push the barrier even further into here, if not eradicate all of us.”

((His parents’ remains had been buried. Janus’s name had been added to the headstone, as an afterthought, a footnote. A nice and tidy way to tie up the loose ends. After all, no one was going to dig up the grave to prove that Janus hadn’t been dead.))

“I have a better idea,” Deceit says. “You help me kidnap my brother from the mayor’s house, and when Roman Prince goes on TV to beg for him to be returned to him, I’ll help you kill him—as much as either of you can be killed—in front of every Upper City citizen. They won’t be able to cover that up or hide the fact that they’ve been following an android for years. They’ll wonder why no one knew, what made a robot—cyborg—different from a human, and then they ask why someone had to create a robot to stay in power….”

The Duke whistles, lowly and long, and grins something like a demon in the night. “Fuck me in the ass, I like the way you think, Snake eyes.”

“It would be chaos,” Deceit says, thinking about how an ashen black snake twists around an arm and apologies he never got to say to his younger brother. “There would be riots. Everyone would see what a stupid system they are living by.”

“Fuck the system,” Remus agrees, readily. “Fuck them. We’ll show them what being human should mean.”

He brings his hand up between them, thin nimble fingers just centimeters away from touching and he flicks his palm in a circle, dragging a phase cuff key out of air like a party trick. He cocks an eyebrow at Deceit, green eyes flicking between Deceit’s wrists, his knife, and Deceit’s face.

“Gonna make me beg first, big boy?”

It sounds like a challenge again, like a trick. Like Deceit who knows all about the terrible different ways to lie to people, lure them in, and stab them in the back, should know better than to trust someone who doesn’t have a reason not to kill him.

Deceit twists his wrist ever so slightly, and with a soft skkkrtt, his blade slips back into his metal arm, out of sight. He lifts his arms up between their bodies and watches carefully as Remus unlocks the cuffs.

“I have two bottles of whatever poison the bartender picked out,” Deceit says, testing the movement of his flesh hand. He leans back to the counter reaching for one of the bottles and the clear glass left to him. “I think we might have a reason to celebrate. Do you?”

Remus laughs, his soulmark glows with the sound. He slides in next to Deceit, barely more than a handful of inches away, as if personal space wasn’t ever programed into him, as if there’s something about Deceit that kept his attention, as if there’s something between them despite having just met minutes ago. He picks up his shot glass of oil, the murky liquid sparkling with stars and possibilities and bad decisions that Deceit wants to make so much he’ll throw away the rest of the world for it.

“Fuck soulmates,” Remus says. “I think we might have been made for each other.”

And in the middle of a darkened, quaint little bar in the Lower City, two glasses clink together.

[pattons-second-cookie-v2]

THIS IS HOW I LEARN THAT LOGAN’S UNICORN ONESIE WAS A PEGASUS ONESIE THE WHOLE TIME??????

IT HAS LITTLE WINGS ON THE BACK ITS NOT A UNICORN ITS A PEGASUS I LOVE THAT EVEN MORE

Also the end card is making me lose it

Just… Logan in his onesie (which, heck yeah) telling us to leave is something really funny to me for no good reason

[orbch]

people talking about analogical and being like “their identities balance each other out really well” and im like NO KIDDING!!!! 😂🤣

anways heres an essay about their storylines and how they mirror each other

(everything im about to say is very mentally unconstructed and thought up in a 3am haze. and also i feel like all of my thoughts abt sasi are stagnant and surface level so please argue with me if you think im wrong..) (also these ideas have likely already been written a bajillion times. but let me do it anyway LOL)

^ with that being said i feel the need to set a definition on what makes sasi sides “dark sides” and “light sides” because like,, to me the only difference between them is the means in which they get the rest of the sides to listen to them

obviously.. none of the sides are actively trying to be evil. or trying to hurt cthomas on purpose. OBVIOUSLYY. because why the hell would they want to do that? they are all literally That Guy, and all of the sides have their own personal goals for thomas that they want him to follow. this is like. the plot. and very known information..

but remus, janus, and formerly virgil are the “dark sides”… like what? because janus manipulated and pretended to be the other sides because thats the only way he could get the others to really listen to and consider his ideas of self preservation and prioritization? and virgil would actively terrorize the others and thomas to get him to be anxious about the stuff virgil believed it was IMPORTANT for him to be anxious about? and remus. listen remus is a whole lot of “being awful for the sake of being awful” but evidently in DWIT he has a strong attraction to the idea of infamy and legacy. so even he is sort of looking out for thomas in. uhm. his own way i guess…

so obviously we know virgils storyline was;

purposely scare the others to get them to see situations from his point of view -> always get insulted and pushed away for being a “pessimist” (its his entire purpose) -> “duck out” and leave thomas and the others to discover the negative affects of zero anxiety -> only after that, finally become recognized as an important aspect of thomas

tw: mention of suicide [not in detail] (and on that note, i think its a little morbid that the light sides only fully realized virgils worth and objective after he attempted the sanders sides equivalent of suicide (which you can NOT convince me isnt what the concept of “ducking out” is. they are all metaphysical personifications of instinctual human traits. what the hell are they gonna do? become real and walk out of the house? bffr))

and whats logans journey?

be considered the [reasonable problem solver] of the group -> be placed in a MULTITUDE of situations where the range of solutions are emotions v. emotions v. emotions and suddenly be considered “cold hearted” and “uncaring” for your objective view points -> get excluded from discussions and ignored when you try and help in the only way you know how -> ???

i (and most of the fandom) fully believe logan (ESPECIALLY after WTIT) is going to start resorting to some pretty drastic measures to be acknowledged by the rest of the sides + thomas. some actions that are likely incited by a “dark side” (nudge nudge the orange guy nudge nudge). and if the harshness of the measures he takes in order to be listened to is all it takes for the rest of the dark sides to be considered “dark sides” in the first place. then uhh well… well!!!

but anyways yeah. yeah. logan and virgil kinda have mirrored character development and that is so fucking interesting. virgils path from dark to light and logans path from light to dark… sighhh.. good stuff

[beauty-and-passion]

Idk if you mentioned this before but, I’ve been rewatching some SaSi reaction videos recently and apparently there like a lot of inside jokes that can be easily missed if you are not in the patreon or the writers room. It also seems like the ideas that Logan and Janus are alcoholics idea came from there.

Personally I don’t like those characterizations, it was funny as first bc it was more subtle and a one off, but why is it that Janus is showing up drunk it doesn’t really makes sense—unless you’re in the writers room it seems that Ms Sanders doesn’t really care about getting new audiences or retaining the free to watch ones it seems to me that SaSi turned into a secret society bs with all the peeps who are paying him. Idk if I articulated correctly but it seems that the sides are being flanderized to heck rn and idk how to feel

I also noticed the same problem you're talking about and I talked about it too. There's no doubt the characters' personalities changed and there's no doubt that this is due to Joan's departure and Mr. Sanders' inability to handle them.

And believe me, there's nothing wrong with not being able to do something: that's why experts exist. But Mr. Sanders still doesn't want to hire one. Maybe he still believes he can do everything by himself.

And maybe, he believes that the writers' room will give him all the help he needs in remembering the characters' personalities and traits. In this case, flash news, Mr. Sanders: the writers' room is made of fans. And fans (especially young ones) are:

always influenced by their own headcanons

not always able to separate headcanon from canon

So relying on them is very silly and naive and a competent writer would never let their public decide everything. But since Mr. Sanders isn't a writer (and doesn't shine for professionalism either), of course he ended up being influenced by his fans. They're fans, so they must know the characters, right?

Sigh.

The result being, as you said, flanderization. Logan is angry, Roman is sad, Patton is stupid, Janus is drunk, Remus is weird and Virgil is edgy uwu. Nuances, details, being more than one single character trait? Everything lost.

I mean, the last GRWM with Janus was proof of how little Mr. Sanders understands this character and how flanderized Janus has been. Janus, the one who was characterized by shades of gray and nuances, is now just one thing, the last one people remember the most.

Sigh.

And yes, this makes me sad and frustrated, because the potential these characters had was huge. The mere idea that each of them had not just one main trait, but multiple traits that were linked to the main one in different ways... that was interesting. That was fun. It offered a ton of great material to work with. And the nuances of their personalities were a lot more interesting than just "drunk guy, alcohol funny ahah".

But in this case, I can't really blame the fans: fans are allowed to be fans. If they want to reduce the character's personalities to a sheet of paper, that's up to them. The author should be the competent one, he should make the characters more realistic. And he should be clever enough to not give fans so much freedom into a topic as delicate as the characterization.

[intrulogical]

remus isn't dumb; a sanders sides essay

i've been struggling to make a cohesive post about this because i feel like most of what i want to say boils down to the same underlying message which is: remus isn't dumb.

i feel like a good chunk of this fandom understands what i mean, at least to a surface level point. but even then, i think too much of the fandom still misinterprets remus' character in a way that, they seem to understand different traits of his, but the way they execute it is still way off from what we see in canon.

(rest of the essay under the cut!)

for example, the biggest thing i see people get wrong would be the way they write remus "lol random" personality. it's true that remus tends to say whatever he wants at any given moment. but, the problem here is that people tend to think remus as random in function. i have no better way to describe this succinctly, so to expound: while remus tends to make left-field jokes a lot, he is shown to be incredibly deliberate, cunning, committed, and intelligent in very subtle ways.

truth is, remus is very goal-oriented, and when he has a goal, oh he strives for that goal. so far, i'm writing this with the last 5 years episode being the most recent substantial episode, so i can't really 100% say all my assumptions of remus are true. actually, i think the upcoming season finale will be the missing link when it comes to providing us with the whole picture of who remus is.

as for now, i just have to stick with my theory of; remus, as a side of thomas' heavily connected to insecurities and mental health issues, intends to shed light on the "darker" sides of thomas because he believes them to be beneficial. throughout dwit, we see remus continuously bolster the idea that his contributions are useful for thomas. this continues in wtit, but with the extra layer of remus wanting logan as well to be in touch with the darker parts of himself to get thomas in line.

it is also heavily implied that remus is well in on whatever janus' plan is to get thomas to be a.) more aware of his mental health issues, and b.) to get thomas to break out of his catholic black and white thinking. in forbidden fruit, it's janus who’s seen permitting remus to present himself to thomas. bigger evidence though, as i've mentioned in the previous paragraph, is the way remus seems to deliberately want logan to manifest his anger against thomas.

of course, we can always say that remus taunted logan "just for fun", but i feel like too much of what happened in wtit seem to point to remus having deeper reasons. for example, wtit exhibits how bad thomas' mental health is to the point that he gets irrationally angry at nico for not replying to his texts. this proves how thomas has been neglecting his mental health, and with the way patton, virgil, and roman held onto toxic selfless ideologies for the longest time, thomas would still, naturally, be lost on what to do. he would even seem to deny how bad things have gotten, especially with the way he acts like nothing bad is happening when he goes to his date with nico.

why am i emphasizing this? well, it's because something i find interesting about remus' character is how deeply cognizant he is of thomas' problems. what i mean by this is, no other side can call out thomas' issues more than remus can. i wrote an essay about this before if you want to check this out, but tldr: remus, as intrusive thoughts, is the most perceptive out of all the sides when it comes to calling out insecurities or problems. we see this come to fruition in wtit when all of the traps he laid out for thomas involved nico in some capacity.

while you can interpret his character as evil for preying on others’ insecurities, i think it's important to acknowledge that, in a sea of people who tend to refuse to talk about their issues, remus is the main guy who constantly brings them to the table. whether remus' intentions are good or not, there's no denying that remus' importance as a side lies in the fact that he serves as a mental health alarm clock for thomas. with the way none of the sides want to communicate with each other, we need someone like remus to cut the bullshit and say things as it is. 

again, we don't really know if he wants to help thomas. but i would like to emphasize that, yes, remus is not dumb. he does not merely make lewd jokes and calls it a day. he has the long-term goal of making everyone talk about more "taboo" topics with each other, and this includes talking about personal grievances the sides tend to suppress or refuse to talk about. lewd jokes are just part of the process.

i think this goal of his is also incredibly visible with the way remus treated logan in wtit. wtit is my favorite sanders sides episode because there's just so much to analyze between remus and logan, but you can check my other essays in regards to that. the main thing i wanted to point out is that what remus says to logan in the end, "woowee logan, now you're speaking my language. but who do you really want to scream that at?", proves he is more deliberate and cunning than he seems.

a lovely bit of analysis my friend orb (@orbmanson7) provided is that remus didn't just pop up in wtit to intervene with thomas' plans. he was there to intervene with logan's. if you've seen my other essays, i've talked about how logan as a side has been dwindling in terms of self-confidence and assertion. this has left a big problem of thomas being more reliant on his emotions, making him ignore the suggestions given by logan that may help with thomas' mental health in the long run. this is not to villainize thomas' mental health crisis, btw. all i want to say is that, remus recognizes how logan's self-restriction is doing no good and deliberately wants to push logan to become more assertive and angry.

that is why he says logan is speaking his language. he wants logan to recognize the merit in the way remus grabs thomas' attention. he wants logan to be like him and cause more havoc. again, we never know how much remus genuinely wants to help thomas, but we know that remus wants everyone to be more exposed to "taboo" things, and this includes logan being more in touch with his angrier side.

besides that, i'd like to mention how, in general, remus tends to be very committed to his goals more than how the fandom typically portrays him? in dwit, remus' main goal was to disturb thomas and the other sides. it's kind of just an introduction to his character. we're not sure if it's part of a bigger plan he and janus devised to get thomas to take care of himself better, but it is a possibility. the only time he gets too random is when logan begins picking apart his arguments. there we see remus only results to super left-field, continuous off-tangent jokes when he's desperate or placed in a lose-lose situation.

another, in wtit, we see how remus understands how to make very long, complicated traps. i think it's a perfect encapsulation of his personality, actually! throughout the episode, we see him make these multilayered traps with a ton of props and preparation just so he can bother thomas with it. it shows that remus is actually less impulsive-oriented as he seems. he even created a schedule he showed to logan detailing everything he wanted to do that day. again, deliberate! he is deliberate and very smart!

other thing i'd like to harken back to is the idea that he's in cahoots with the other dark sides to execute some Big Plan to break thomas out of his black and white thinking. while we don't know how orange acts like yet, we're Very familiar with janus by this point and we can see how long-drawn janus' plan of acceptance is. he's, again, sorry to use the word so many times, very deliberate. i don't even think his plan ends with svs.r, because it does seem like remus is well in on this plan too. in the 5 years video, he also seems to know more than thomas on what else is to come for the future of sanders sides, which implies he has some plans up his sleeve that no one else knows about. like i said, janus has the goal to break thomas out of his black and white thinking. and so far from what we've seen from remus, he also wants the same!

an important factor of remus' character besides his deliberateness is his general need to subvert what "goodness" means. "good and bad are all made up nonsense," he sings in forbidden fruit. throughout dwit he continuously criticizes everything thomas thinks is good or acceptable. in the 5 years video, he argues about how there's no "correct way of sitting". i think this also proves how remus is important as a side because, while not every single one of his beliefs are morally acceptable, he is still able to pick morality apart in a way the other sides are unable to. also, i just think this proves his character as just. generally smart? he's able to pick apart the status quo and moral philosophies, of course he's smart.

just to pick up on a previous point, remus is scarily perceptive. i mentioned this earlier with how remus is able to pick logan apart, but i'd like to add onto it more since i think a lot of people underestimate how crazily perceptive he is. for one, despite not being too close with a bunch of the other sides, he seems to be able to read their insecurities and play them against them really well. we see it in the way he uses virgil's insecurities of being an ex-dark side against him. we see it in the way he picks on patton and thomas' morality crisis against them. we see it in the way roman describes remus as someone being able to show him things he doesn't like about himself. and most importantly, we see it in the way remus constantly reaps the fact that logan isn't listened to to the point that logan snaps. as intrusive thoughts, remus' job is to see what deepest darkest secrets thomas and the sides suppress and use it against them.

at the moment, we don't really know if remus has any weaknesses, although wtit sort of implies that he himself is also quite irritated by the fact that thomas doesn't listen to him. he does a good way of hiding, though, how much of that problem is genuinely affecting him. it makes me think he's also smart in the way he's able to hide his vulnerabilities and true intentions from the other side. he's silly and goofy and lewd and because of that, everyone thinks he's harmless. the sides think he's unserious, and so does the fandom. but deep down, remus really isn't that stupid. 

and LASTLY, when beta reading this essay, orb also mentioned to me about how remus possesses cognitive flexibility in a way roman doesn’t. this isn’t meant to discredit roman of course, but i think it’s important to mention that remus is the side with the least amount of restrictions when it comes to creative liberties. orb mentioned to me how remus is able to connect concepts easily in a way roman doesn’t because remus doesn’t operate under the same self-restrictive mindset. while this obviously would help thomas become more innovative as a creative, i think it’s also important to recognize how much thomas kind of needs it in general. much of the latter half of the series shows thomas dealing with restrictions, especially when it comes to doing good. it would be great benefit for thomas to be able to listen to a side who generally wants to Have a Good Time, and doesn’t abide by rules imposed onto them.

and yes that is my essay on remus 100/10 best character and is not dumb at all. very excited to see him in the finale and i hope y’all’s get your characterizations straight because i need me some good fics 

[anxiouslyfred]

Haunted

Summary: The Dead Boy Detectives get a letter asking if they can advise on a ghosts neighbour who seems to be haunted by people identical to him. Thomas wonders why his sides keep mentioning silent men coming into his house when he can see nobody.

Authors Note: I have no brain power after yesterdays writing so this is weirdness. For any fics not Sander sides I post them to @fandoms-in-law

My Idea for todays Fic: A ghost on Thomas's street seeks out the dead boy detectives over thomas being haunted. None of them, not even Crystal, know what to make of Thomas being unable to see Charles and Edwin be all his sides can. Edwin just wants an answer of some sort but nothing is in their books.

/\/\

"Dear Dead Boy Detectives, I understand you are based in England but I was wondering if you have any insight into my neighbour. He's alive but seems to be haunted by multiple identical ghosts. Identical to him and each other except in clothing that is and their appearance changes when his does usually. This has perterbed by afterlife multiple times and although these ghosts seem to see me while my neighbour cannot they refuse to interact with me except through making my neighbour do so. Please reply if this is anything you've encountered before that needs worrying over. Sincerely Liam."

Charles and Edwin shared a concerned look after the letter had been read out, before Edwin started going through their shelves.

"Perhaps, Crystal, you will be needed to solve this case with us, but I'll research here. Charles, can you pop into the house of this Thomas Sanders to see if you can meet these ghosts or indeed the man Liam is so concerned about?"

"On it, see you in a bit, Mate." Charles agreed, disappearing through the mirror as Crystal groaned a little. "Really hope I don't need to, those flights drag."

/\

"Yay, another home invasion via mirrors. Did the guy from three doors down send him?" Virgil grumbled from the staircase. He didn't think the kid was a threat, not just because he appeared young, but because he'd looked curious rather than scheming.

Thomas turned around, unable to see anyone other than Virgil. "What do you mean Virge? No one else is here."

"Just like there wasn't for that guy. Thomas, you're going to get yourself killed one of these days being so unobservant." He complained. "Okay, I guess walking through him works. What is with this house and intangible men?"

"I'm an intangible man, Virgil. Want to try?" Remus cooed, popping up beside him and trying to push Virgil's hand through his chest. "But if you're concerned over this guy, I can get my morningstar."

Thomas glanced warily at where he'd just walked through. "If he's just looking around I don't think that's neccessary. You made me replace my TV last time something like this happened."

"Oh, no, that was because Roman decided to fight him." Janus appeared, staring at the spot Thomas still couldn't see anyone in. "It would be much easier to know why these men appeared if we could hear them. Can Logan lip read?"

Thomas shook his head. "You only know the things I've learnt and my need to lip read has been limited. People usually have signals if I need to know things from a distance on stage."

"Then everything is fine as you say. Virgil's just being more vigilant for dangers than normal." Janus soothed, waving the stranger away.

/\

"These ghosts can't hear us and seem to be known to Thomas. One did seem violent and another was mentioned similarly. I don't think it's a worry for anyone but Thomas though." Charles said, coming back to the office.

"Unlikely to be multiple identical ghosts though if they couldn't hear you." Edwin replied, "I've been unable to find any similar occurrances so far however. Are you against going to learn more, Crystal?"

"Might as well find out what Thomas thinks is going on." Crystal sighed mock frustrated as she stood. "I'll get the plane ticket booked."

/\

Thomas peered out at the strange woman curiously, "Hello?"

"Hi, I'm Crystal Palace. I'm a psychic who works as part of the Dead Boy Detectives and recently a neighbouring ghost of yours has grown concerned over you. Would you prefer I leave as a mad woman or can I ask you a couple of questions to assuage the ghosts worries?" She'd debated how to approach Thomas on the entire flight and journey over, but after realising he lived in a private area she decided the truth was best, even if it sounded unlikely or impossible.

Thomas blinked at her and she saw multiple men near identical to him pop up just through the doorway, no mirrors in sight. None of them spoke however until Thomas nodded, "I guess I can entertain that idea for a while. Come in."

"Are you mad, Thomas? She could be a murderer? Or here to steal all your money? Or-" The copy of him in a hoodie and eyeshadow beneath his eyes started rambling about dangers until Crystal looked right at him.

"Or I'm a psychic with two ghost detectives very curious to know why Thomas can't see him, the men who seem to be ghosts can but can't hear them and all change appearance in some ways at the same time according to the correspondence we recieved asking us to check everything with Thomas is okay." She replied as succinctly as she could, noticing Edwin and Charles appearing out of the mirror on Thomas's counter. "Edwin and Charles are the ghosts who just arrived. Who are the rest of you?"

Thomas watched her curiously, looking around his living room. "They're my sides. They help me think through situations."

"I'm Virgil and I still don't trust you, or them." The hoodie version greeted.

"I'm Logan and the existence of ghosts is intriguing. Can you tell me more, about them and about your psychic powers?" One of the versions wearing glasses and a tie greeted.

"And what are Sides? Helpful spirits? Something the person generates? Does Thomas know other people with similar 'sides'?" Edwin chimed in, notebook in hand and mirroring Logan's curiousity.

Before Crystal could reply or anyone else could introduce themselves and more possible tangents Thomas cleared his throat. "I'm Thomas, as you apparently know, and the sides are parts of me; Creativity, Anxiety, Logic, Morality and Deceit. The labels are just what they most often help me with, and yes, there are two creativities in case everyone shows up now. The two that haven't spoken up are Patton, morality, and Janus, Deceit."

"Charles mentioned one of them seeming violent when he tried to check on you and them before." Crystal asked, wondering how long it would be before Logan or Edwin asked their questions again.

"Probably Remus if he was the last person I couldn't see to show up." Thomas decided after a moments thought. "He can be quite violent at times. Other times he's just gross or disturbing."

Crystal nodded, "Okay, so I'm probably fine to be here then. Do you know how your sides formed? It's not something Edwin's encountered before and he's been around a while."

"Not really. I used similar characters for Vine and youtube and sooner or later they actually showed up. I assumed I'd just grown so used to imagining them that I worked through everything in such a way automatically." Thomas explained, "Although Logan has made comments over them having been around for longer than that."

Logan nodded. "Indeed, although prior to his videos we remained generally internal. It's still essentially talking to himself whether he sees us or not." He explained. "I'm of the opinion it's just a quirk of Thomas as nobody else seems to have sides in a similar way."

Edwin seemed about to say something before Charles held a hand up. "We aren't here to psychoanalyse him, Edwin. Thomas seems fine to me."

Thomas and Virgil both snorted, eyes on Crystal. "You don't like the sound of an afternoon being the only person to hear everyone, do you?" Thomas asked.

"Not one bit. I'm basically going to assume Edwin's taking notes and just chat with you unless one of them says something that seems important to know." she decided. "Besides, Charles and Edwin can hear everything. It's you who can't see them at all, and your sides apparently can't hear them, but I'm pretty used to ghosts so should be able to tell you enough about them without additional input."

"Sounds like a good plan." Thomas agreed.

The letter from Liam was right that this was an unusual situation, but just as Charles had thought, even with Remus and Roman popping up armed, it wasn't something anyone had to worry about, not even Virgil.

[edupunkn00b]

Two Truths and All Lies

Photo by Javier Quiroga on Unsplash 

WC: 1692 - Rated: T - CW: alcohol, a wee bit of innuendo, Janus' defense mechanism on full display - [ AO3 ]

Remus set up his best friend Logan with his new friend Janus.

Written for Day 1 of @loceitweek 2024, off a prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting, #1101: "I am not the right person for you." "You're doing a bad job of convincing me of that."

-

Resisting the temptation to check his watch for the third time in half as many minutes, Logan closed his eyes and took a long draw of his wine. His blind date was over twenty minutes late.

And Logan had been waiting for thirty.

“Trust me, Lo Lo,” Remus had laughed when Logan had expressed uncertainty about the wisdom of going on a date with someone he’d never met. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

Logan began to count on his fingers. “The first I recall was In the second grade when you suggested I write my corrections in our Rabbit Reader books. Next was later that same year when—”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Remus shook his head and laughed again. “This guy’s perfect for you. He’s hot, but not in a boring Ken doll way. He’s so smart he can talk circles around the judges down at the ninth circuit and he’s available. Unlike—”

“Ah!” One hand raised, Logan shook his head. “You pledged never to mention that again.”

“Sorry,” he said, a moment of sincerity from his mess of a friend.

Inclining his head, Logan dismissed the moment and returned to their earlier debate. “What I don’t understand is if this man is as wonderful as you are making him out to be, why aren’t you dating him?”

Hand pressed to his chest, Remus put on a mask of hurt outrage. “You think I’m so hard-up I wouldn’t want to introduce you first?”

Logan crossed his arms, both eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he’d admitted with a sigh. “Ro dated him back in college. Bro code, I can’t touch him with a fifty foot pole.” Remus cackled. “Or a ten inch one.”

Shaking his head, Logan hadn’t been able to hold back a bark of laughter. “Especially with a ten inch one.”

A figure approached, walking between him and the setting sun. The movement cast a long shadow over the table and, backlit in soft pinks and gold, the new arrival appeared only as a silhouette.

It appeared his date had finally arrived.

Logan rose and offered his hand to shake when the man—the broad shoulders and low hum seemed right. “Good evening, I’m Logan Sanders. Are you Janus?”

He inclined his head, dipping his face into the candlelit centerpiece. The light made his features glow, calling attention to the heavy scarring over the left half of his face. “Janus Forrd,” he said, accepting Logan’s hand briefly before his eyes trailed up and down his form. “Well, I am relieved to see I am not underdressed.”

“Since when are french cuffs and a necktie casual wear?” Logan snapped before he could stop himself.

Janus chuckled. “Since I stopped buying my clothes off the rack at Penney’s.” His sleeves billowed elegantly as he took his seat, legs crossed under the table.

Biting back an additional indigent response, Logan straightened his tie and smoothed down the lapels of his jacket. Janus merely smirked up at him. “Are you planning on standing all evening? You must have more stamina than you look.”

The server saved him from saying something he might regret. “What can I start you gentlemen with tonight?”

Packaging up his frustration, Logan vowed to share it all with Remus later tonight. Of all the nights for him to play one of his pranks. He took a slow, measured breath and smiled up at the server. “Another glass, please,” he said, tapping the stem of his goblet. 

“Yes, sir.” The server made no mention of Janus’ tardiness, but did give Logan a small nod and a smile. “And what can I bring you, sir?” he said to Janus.

“Water for me,” he said, looking askance at Logan’s empty wine glass. “I never indulge on a first date.”

“Very good, sir,” the server said, glancing quickly at Logan before retreating to the sommelier station behind the bar.

When Logan turned back to his companion, he found Janus sitting forward, fingers threaded and supporting his chin. He smiled, eyes never budging from Logan’s face, a cat in front of an open bird cage. 

Logan was briefly tempted to leave then. But he’d been told more than once that he made a terrible first impression and he valued the friends who’d bothered to see past his own quirks. Perhaps this man, this friend of Remus’ even, deserved the same.

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Logan offered, consciously relaxing his shoulders from their position up at his ears.

“We may have,” Janus concurred with a slow nod of his head. “And how would you propose we find out way onto the right foot?”

“Perhaps you could tell me something about yourself?” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. “Remus tells me you also practice law.”

“Hmph,” he hummed as the server brought their drinks. “Most people in your position choose to ask me about my scar.” Janus watched him over his water glass, the refraction emphasizing the streaks of red surrounding his left eye and the tight, rough skin splashed over his jaw and his cheekbone.

“While I readily admit a certain curiosity, I trust you will share your personal history in accordance with your level of comfort.” He shrugged. “To do otherwise would be… crude.” Logan frowned, dissatisfied with his imprecision.

“Interesting,” Janus leaned back in his chair, one arm draped artfully over the back rest. “I find such vulnerable honesty refreshing…” He took a slow sip of his water. “Unusual, even.”

Logan hummed and fought another frown. “I find it to be most efficient to be honest and open when meeting a potential romantic partner.”

“Really?” He said, leaning forward and steepling his hands, elbows resting lightly on the table between them. He tapped his lower lip with his fingertips and stared at him for long enough for Logan to wonder if he had somehow missed a question. “I practice the opposite. In fact, this is one the few honest statements I’ve made all evening. On that note—” He signaled their server and gestured toward Logan’s half-empty glass.

“Please bring us a bottle of whatever my companion is drinking.”

“That’s absurd. You don’t even know if you’d like it.”

“You appear to be and I trust your taste.”

“What?” Logan snapped his jaw shut before anything further could come out while the server was still at their table. He waited, gaze focused on his lap for a slow count to four. When the server left with a curt bow of his head, Logan looked up and adjusted his eyeglasses before speaking again. “I do not know what precisely you hope to accomplish with this little stereotypical alpha male negging pick-up artist… thing,” he finished not with a bang but a fumbled whimper.

“You surprise me, dear Logan,” Janus said, reaching across the table and taking his glass. “I would expect someone of your intellect and observational skills to have already deduced I find this thing to be a more than effective dating strategy.”

Scoffing, Logan took out his wallet and signaled their server but Janus waved him off. Infuriatingly, the man listened to Janus. “Very well, then, the drinks are on you. I am leaving,” he said, pushing back his chair and pushing up to his feet. “It is clear to me that I am simply not the right man for you.”

"I disagree,” he said, that infernal smirk pulling up the unblemished side of his face. “Your wit has the sharpness to draw blood. As I said before, you have remarkable taste in wine.” He savored his wine before winking. “And in men.”

Janus’ eyes wandered over his face before trailing down over his shoulder and chest. “You are just this side of conventionally attractive, classically beautiful, even.”

Logan wished such empty praise was insufficient to heat his cheeks. He wished for world peace, as well.

“See?” Janus said, his smirk softening into a full smile. “Even your blush is fetching.”

Forcing his mouth into a scowl, Logan raised one eyebrow but Janus wasn’t done. “You are seemingly impervious to my undeniable charms and a stickler for accuracy and integrity. You were disarmingly prompt this evening, arriving a full ten minutes before our date was scheduled to begin.”

Logan’s eyes widened at Janus’ implicit admission that he had somehow arrived even earlier.

“I was over there,” he said, gesturing toward the darkened bar without breaking eye contact. “I watched you arrive and assess the venue before subtly slipping the maitre’d a folded bill and obtaining us the best table in the house.” Janus finished his glass and refilled first Logan’s, then his own from the bottle. “Impeccable view,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“I have a view of the water and the rest of the establishment,” Logan corrected. “You have a view of passable recreations of Degauss along a wall badly in need of updated wallpaper.”

“Au contraire,” he chuckled, contemplating the swirling dark liquid in his cup before fixing Logan with his gaze. “I have the best view in the restaurant.”

For all the doublespeak, Logan found himself believing him. At least, believing that Janus spoke the truth for him. He sat back down and picked up his glass. “I am not the right man for you,” he repeated, a crooked smile making its way to his face.

Janus shook his head and held up his glass as if to toast him. “You're doing a bad job of convincing me of that."

Clinking their glasses together, Logan cocked one eyebrow. “Then perhaps I should endeavor to make my point more adamantly.”

Janus raised his glass to his lips, half-obscuring his smile. “Then perhaps you should.”

Drinking their wine, the men stared at each other for a long while and, as the sun set, Logan’s eyes watched light and shadow from the surrounding candles caress Janus’ cheek. Hiding his own smile behind his goblet, he sat back in his chair. “It is abhorrent manners to arrive twenty minutes late to a first date.”

“Hmm? Really,” Janus replied, stretching his free hand across the table and brushing his fingers over Logan’s arm. “Tell me more.”

[creativia10]

Interesting Sing-through Part 1: Assigning Roles

Epic the musical is a concept album that has a way of getting a hold of it's listeners. Thomas and the Sides are no exception to this. Roman leads the sides into an 'Epic the musical' singalong. Virgil has some interesting realizations and observations as they do so.

word count: 4608

Notes: I've gotten really into 'Epic the Musical' lately. (Title may change.)

So I don't know how many parts this will have yet or how often I'll update. I currently have checks notes maybe six ideas related to Epic. One is a crossover with sanders sides, others are Epic fics.

The sides watch Roman as he sits at the desk muttering to himself out loud. Writing something out, the Epic playlist on YouTube already pulled up on the computer. Thomas had recently discovered the concept album of ‘Epic the Musical’ on YouTube. It didn’t take long for Roman to become obsessed. They had all already heard Roman singing these songs often. Not to mention some of the other sides doing so as well such as Patton, Janus, and Remus. So with this in mind, Virgil was filled with a sense of dread when he heard Roman muttering. As he had heard their names and Epic character names. Roman sat up straighter and nodded to himself before turning to face the others. 

“Okay, so I have some ideas on who can sing what for the next sing along,” Roman said.

“Seriously?” Virgil asked.

Logan sighed.  “We know how Roman gets when he’s really into a new media. It will be hard to get him to focus on much else,” Logan said.

Roman pouted. 

“It might be best to go along with this for now,” Logan continued. 

Virgil blinked and looked at Logan. “I didn’t expect you of all sides to be on board with this,” Virgil said.

“I didn’t say I was particularly enthused. But going with this could help get it out of his system. Thus making it easier to get productive things done after,” Logan said.

“But that’s not a guarantee,” Virgil said. 

“I mean, I can’t predict the future Virgil. However, I do think the length of the musical could aid with this as well. It’s rather lengthy, with more songs than the typical musical. So singing through it would be spending a good amount of time doing so. Which has a better chance of ‘scratching that itch’, you could say, for the content,” Logan said. 

Virgil sighed and nodded. “Yeah alright,” Virgil said. 

“Oh come now, Virgil. We are all fans of this musical after all,” Roman said.

“Yeah, but…” That didn’t mean he wanted to sing in front of everyone.  When Virgil didn’t continue, Roman got out the paper he’d been writing on.

“Okay, so I’m going to sing for Odysseus,” Roman struck a heroic pose after he said so, “Obviously.”

Patton giggled a bit. Logan just rolled his eyes. 

“So I think Virgil should sing for Zeus,” Roman continued. 

Virgil blinked.  “Wait really?”

Roman nodded. “Mhm! You have the low voice for it, and would be good at playing a menacing role.” 

“Roman, we have the same voice.”

“But you tend to sing the lower parts though!”

“I guess. I would have to tell someone to drop a baby from a building though,” Virgil muttered.

“Technically, he doesn’t specify how to get rid of the boy,” Logan said. 

“Not really the point, the Logan,” Virgil said.

“Virgil, it’s not as though Thomas hasn’t played a bad guy before. And this isn’t even a bad guy. Odysseus just does things that are questionable to us, but for the good.  Anyways, Thomas has been JD in Heathers after all,” Roman said.

“True…” This felt different somehow though.  “You think I can sing for a powerful god?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah! You can definitely have  a big presence when you chose to,” Roman said.

“…thanks?” When he thought about it though, it might be fun to pretend for a bit. Like he actually had control in something. Especially with how he often felt as anxiety. He was still nervous about doing Zeus’s big song, ‘Thunder bringer’ justice though. It was an epic song, and a good one. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the attention he’d get from the others when it came up as well.

“Patton will be Polites, of course,” Roman said.

“Oh! Yeah that makes sense,” Patton said with a smile. 

“So because there’s so many parts, some of us will sing for more than one. I’ll try to put it so they don’t conflict though,” Roman said.

“I want to play all the villains!” Remus exclaimed with a manic laugh.

Roman sighed. “I’m sure you’ll be good at that. I don’t know if it will work for you to play all of them though,” Roman said.

“Prometheus?” 

Roman paused for a moment then nodded.

“Yeah, you can be Prometheus.”

“Antinous?”

Roman huffed out a bit of a laugh at that, “Yeah you can definitely be vicious enough for him. Not to mention some of the rough stuff Jorge has released in his later songs. I don’t think anyone else here would be comfortable singing those. But we don’t have to worry about that today anyways, since we’ll only be doing the released stuff. Now-!”

Roman turned to Logan.  “I think you should sing for Poseidon.”

Logan blinked. “Oh really? I figured I was a better fit for Athena,” He said.

Virgil was a bit surprised by that as well.

“Athena matches you more in actual personality. But I’m considering other factors as well for who sings what. For one, his big song ‘Ruthlessness’ is a very angry song, and we know you have experience with getting very angry.”

“FALSEHOOD!” 

Roman had already leaned back as though expecting that reaction. Logan paused for a moment then huffed.

“Fair enough. Why else?” Logan asked.

Roman hesitated, mulling over how to phrase it.

Remus just snickered.  “He’s trying to say you could pull off a very masculine role well,” Remus said. 

Logan’s eyebrows raise at that. “Ah…I see,” His expression was a bit hard to read, but he seemed contemplative. 

“I’ll be Circe,” Janus said. The other sides looked at him. He smirked and raised an eyebrow.  “What?”

“That’s just, not what I would have expected from you,” Roman said. 

“And why not?” Janus asked. Roman seemed unsure what to say. Janus smirked. “What, is it because you’re surprised I’d volunteer to play a role where I have to pretend to flirt with you?”

“Uh, well…I mean-“ Despite his stuttering, the look on Roman’s face seemed to confirm that. 

Janus straightened up and waved a hand around himself. His outfit transformed into a red toga-like dress inspired by some Circe fanart. He started to saunter over to Roman. 

“There are other ways of persuasion. There are other modes of control~,” Janus sang. Virgil expected Roman to back away, but was instead surprised to see Roman freeze.  “There are other means of Deceit~” He hissed on the cee part of the word. Roman’s eyes trailed Janus as the other came closer. “There are other roads to the soul~” Janus got to Roman and lightly trailed his hand up his arm. “There are other actions of passion~” He leaned closer to Roman. “You have so much left to learn~” Janus sang as almost a whisper that time, close to Roman’s face. Virgil saw Roman’s breath catch and how he blushed. 

Virgil frowned.   “Okay! You made your point or whatever,” Virgil called. Whether the point was about him playing Circe or something else, Virgil wasn’t sure. 

Janus glanced to him with a satisfied look, not moving away for a moment. Then he let out a bit of a chuckle before leaning back away from Roman. Janus waved his hand again, transforming into a more casual outfit. Then he walked back over to his initial spot.  Roman cleared his throat, still looking a little flushed. Then his eyes widened and he looked to Virgil.

“Virgil, I…”

Virgil sighed and waved him off.  “It’s fine, I guess.” He wasn’t mad at Roman after all. He wasn’t thrilled, but he understood. It’s not like he hadn’t been there. 

Roman seemed unsure if he believed Virgil, which was fair. The animosity between him and Janus was clear to everyone. 

Remus snickered. 

“You know, some of the fans of Epic have talked about a manwhore au-“ Remus said.

Roman sighed.  “This is a serious sing through! We can check out things like that later,” Roman said. 

Remus pouted a bit but shrugged.

“Okay, let’s get back to it!” Roman looked back to his paper.  “Uhh,” Roman hummed.  “Hermes I guess could be Remus?”

Remus shrugged. “As long as I get to play destructive villains, I don’t care who else.”

“Why Remus?” Patton asked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that of course! But-“

“It does seem a bit tame for Remus, doesn’t it?” Janus cut in. Patton nodded a bit hesitantly. 

Roman sighed. “Yeah, I know. Aside from that, I think he could easily match the almost wackiness of the character though. I mean, I can’t really picture Logan busting a move,” He said. Virgil laughed at that, along with a couple of the others. Logan hummed but didn’t disagree.  “Okay, so Tiresias or the prophet can be Patton. I think he has a soft enough voice for that,” Roman said. 

“Alright, sounds good,” Patton said.  Roman looked back at his sheet, and seemed unsure about something as he furrowed his brows.  “Okay, um…” 

Remus looked over Roman’s shoulder at the song list pulled up on the computer. “Oo, I can be Scylla!” He exclaimed. 

Roman hesitated.  “Character-wise that works, I’m just not sure if you can voice her.”

Remus snickered. “Did you forget we’re imaginary, genius?” He shook himself out and then transformed so he now looked like the voice actress of Scylla. He still wore his usual getup otherwise though. Remus cleared his throat with really nasal sounds before taking a deep breath. 

“DROWN IN YOUR SORROW AND FEARS,” Remus belted out loudly with a powerful female voice and continued, “CHOKE ON YOUR BLOOD AND YOUR TEARS BLEED 'TIL YOU'VE RUN OUT OF YEARS WE MUST DO WHAT IT TAKES TO SURVIVE~”

They all stared at him, impressed. Patton’s eyes were wide, but he did clap enthusiastically. Remus gave him an unsettling grin and bowed. Patton’s face grew a bit nervous at the grin.

“Alright, Remus has got down Scylla then,” Roman said, writing that down.  Remus transformed back. 

“Yay!”

“No killer tentacles for the scene!” Virgil, Janus, and Roman all yelled at the same time.

Remus frowned a bit at that. “Aww, fine! But it loses something without that sense of danger.”

The other sides let out sighs of relief at that. 

“Okay, so-“ Roman started. 

“You forgot Athena,” Logan said. Roman nodded. 

“I didn’t forget her…I just wasn’t sure who she would go to yet.”

“There’s also Eurylochus,” Janus pointed out. “You can hardly be all the crew when there are songs they have conversations in.”

“Right, right…” Roman thought as he looked around at all of them.  “Hmm…you know, I think we need more singers actually,” Roman said. Then he made an upwards motion with both of his hands, bringing two new presences into the room. 

“Gurl, what the hell!?”

“Whoa, what!?”

Now in the room was Remy who represented sleep…and character Dr. Emile Picani from the cartoon therapy series?

The sides looked at Roman then. Roman shrugged. 

“What? He was already an active character in the imagination. I know he’s only had like three episodes, so I threw a bit of Logan and Patton in there. You know, it seemed fitting.” Patton and Logan both looked at Emile after that. Logan seemed unsure how to take that. Emile blinked, looking very confused. 

“Roman, if you were just going to bring in someone from the imagination, why not create an Epic figment?” Logan asked. 

Roman shrugged again.  “To stay on theme?” He said. Logan huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, well uh, do you how do folks? Mind telling me what’s going on?” Emile asked. 

“We’re assigning people to sing different parts in Epic the musical for a sing along. I needed more singers so I brought you two here,” Roman said.

“Oh! Well that sure sounds fun. I’d love to join,” Emile said.

“Mhm,” said Roman.  Remy smirked and sauntered over to Emile. “Well I’m never going to complain about seeing your pretty face,” Remy said with a wink. He took Emile’s hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. With his free hand, Emile covered his mouth and giggled, turning pink. The sides looked to Roman again. 

“I mean, it’s a popular ship with fans. Not too surprising this happened,” Roman said. 

Remy scoffed.  “You don’t need to take credit for this. I spend time in the imagination too after all. Besides, he’s a cutie,” Remy said. 

Emile shook his head, smiling shyly through his fluster.

“Okay, anyways!” Roman clapped.  “Roles!” Roman pointed to Emile.

“You’re Athena.

“Oh! Okay.”

“Why did you wait for Emile before placing Athena?” Logan asked. 

“I was unsure who would fit, but I think it works for Emile. He’s a smart guy, and can have a soft edge to him as well,” Roman said.

Logan hummed as he considered that and then nodded. 

“I’m smart too,” Janus said. 

“Did you want to be her?” Roman asked.

“Well now I’m curious to see how therapy boy does with it,” Janus said looking curiously at Emile. Emile smiled at him.

“Okay then,” Roman said. 

“There’s always another time,” Patton said.

Virgil groaned at the thought of doing this whole thing again, even though they hadn’t even started this one yet.

Roman ignored Virgil as he then turned to Remy and pointed to him.  “You’re Eurylochus.”

“Who?” Remy asked.

“Remy, how could you not know Epic the musical by now? Roman sings it all the time,” Virgil snarked. 

Remy scoffed and looked to him.  “Of course I know it. Doesn’t mean I know all the characters though.”

Logan answered, “He is the second in command of Odysseus’s crew and army. His role is often the voice of the crew.”

“Kay, cool,” Remy said as he slurped on his coffee.

“Uh, speaking of not knowing things, are we supposed to have the songs memorized?” Emile asked nervously. 

Roman waved.  “Do not worry, this is meant to just be a fun sing-through. I will provide the lyrics for the songs for everyone,” He said. 

“Okay, good. Thank you,” Emile said.

“Of course. Oh and we’ll all sing the ensemble parts when it doesn’t conflict with our assigned roles,” Roman said.

“Oh, alright! That makes sense,” Emile said.

“So I didn’t need to have solos?” Virgil asked.

Roman frowned at him.  “Aw, come on Virge. It will be fun!”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll still do it,” He just felt the need to point that out.

“Okay, great!” Roman hummed. “You know, Remy might be a better fit for Hermes than Remus,” Roman said. 

Patton turned to Remus then.  “Is that alright with you Remus?” He asked. 

Remus was…using something unidentifiable to pick at his teeth.  “Yeah, I don’t care,” He said. 

“Cool,” Remy said. 

“Hermes has some cool dance songs,” Emile added. 

Remy smiled. “Oh hell yeah, I’m so down for bringing the party,” He said.

Emile giggled at that. 

Roman looked back at Emile but hesitated. 

“Would you be good singing for the sirens and Penelope?” He asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah I think I could pull that off,” Emile said. 

“You don’t have to do the siren screams,” Roman added.

“Yeah I wasn’t going to,” Emile said.

That was one thing that was different about Emile compared to Patton. He was better at asserting boundaries for himself. Which might seem strange since Patton has often acted authoritative like a dad. But that has always come from what he thinks he has to enforce. Patton was not great at taking care of himself still. Which said something for why it took a lot for him to be convinced to do better for Thomas. Not that he wasn’t trying of course. Virgil may not be thrilled with a lot of the things Patton has done, but it was clear he needed to care for himself better. Whereas is makes sense that Emile, a cartoon therapist, knows how to assert himself.  Roman simply nodded at that comment. 

“Fair enough,” He said.

“Why did you need someone else to join for those other characters? Why not assign them to say, Patton?” Janus asked. 

Roman blinked and glanced from Patton to Emile.  “Oh! Well uh, Penelope reminds me of a softer version of Athena in some ways. Clever like her husband. Also, despite the siren being disguised, there’s still the part of pretending to be such a character. Which I have a hard time picturing Patton doing. Not hissing without laughing that is. Er, no offense Patton,” Roman said.

“Oh that’s okay, ki-Roman. I don’t mind,” Patton laughed a little, “You probably have a point there. Besides, I’m going to have plenty fun with what I have.”

“And I still have ideas for other parts you can sing as well! I just haven’t gotten there yet,” Roman said. 

Janus then cut back in, “So what I’m hearing is you don’t think Patton fits smart characters? Are you saying you don’t think he’s smart?”

Roman’s eyes widened.  “What, no! Of course not! It’s just-“  Roman looked around from Janus, to Patton, to Emile, and back. 

Virgil glared at Janus and hissed at him. Stupid snake. He was flirting with Roman earlier and now he went back to teasing him. What was the deal? Janus just raised an eyebrow at him, but he looked way too satisfied with himself to play innocent. Bastard.

Patton looked like he wasn’t sure what to believe, but Janus’ suggestion clearly upset him. 

Logan sighed and adjusted his glasses.  “Honestly, Janus. There is way more to assigning a role to someone than their intelligence. Especially since it is a façade. All that matters is if they can convince the viewer of their character’s intelligence. Roman knows more about this stuff works than the rest of us. Not to mention there are stereotypes for intelligent people. Which I myself have been said to resemble.”

Janus blinked, apparently surprised that Logan came to Roman’s defense. Roman sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Specs!”

“It was nothing,” Logan waved off, but Virgil caught a small smile there. Virgil half-smiled as well. 

He knew Roman wouldn’t cast someone a role just to be mean. He’d even taken Janus’ seriously, and let Remus be who he wanted. Roman took assigning parts for something like this seriously. He wanted to do so fairly, even though this was simply a sing-along among them. 

“So after the sirens-“

“Oh, wait. Sorry, but, what about Odysseus’s mom in the underworld song?” Patton asked. Roman cleared his throat and glanced away. 

“I was actually going to skip that part of the song,” He said.  That wasn’t too surprising. Roman usually didn’t include that in his individual sing-throughs. Thomas cried every time he heard it, so it would fit that Roman would do the same. They could all probably guess that was the reason.

Patton nodded. “Alright.” 

Roman nodded too. “Now, as I was saying,” He hums a bit as he checks where they were.  “I think I’m a good fit for Telemachus,” He said.

Logan nodded. “Yes, his song does sound very much like something you would sing,” He said.

“Thank you, Logan. Although, eventually it should go to someone else. Since Odysseus and Telemachus had songs together. Probably Remy,” Roman said.

“Yeah alright,” Remy said, giving a thumbs up with his free hand. 

“What about Thomas?” Emile asked. 

Roman looked over at him. “What about Thomas?” He asked.

“Couldn’t he sing a role?” Emile asked. 

Roman paused. “Well,” he waved to the room around them, “This is going to be in his head.” 

“I know…” Emile started. 

“The thing is, were Thomas to join us as one of the singers he would probably be a better fit for Odysseus. So I would be Telemachus,” Roman said.

“And Roman doesn’t like having less songs to sing,” Janus added.

Roman frowned and looked at Janus.  “That’s not the only reason,” Roman said.

“Ah, but you did admit that is a reason though,” Janus said.

“Thomas singing through an entire musical out loud with the sides who only he can hear would make him feel crazy,” Virgil cut in. 

“But Thomas has sung with us before though,” Patton said with a frown.

“Yeah, but this isn’t for a Sanders Sides video though,” Virgil said with a shrug. 

“Okay, so we’ll just continue as we planned,” Roman said.

Virgil knew Roman didn’t usually concede so easily after Virgil contributed. He also figured that unfortunately, as much as he hated that Janus was the one to say it, the snake was probably right. Roman wanted to keep singing for Odysseus. Virgil didn’t think there was anything wrong with that though. So he decided not to comment on it. Emile frowned a little but didn’t argue.

“I think Calypso would be a good fit for Patton,” Roman said turning to face him. Patton blinked.

“Oh, really?” Patton asked.

Roman nodded. “Mhm! I think you could match her softness well.”

Virgil had a feeling there was more to this assignment than that though. Calypso portrays herself as loving but is pushy. She insists that being with her would give Odysseus everything he’d need. Patton would never do that in a romantic relationship of course. But there could be some allusions there.  Despite this, Virgil could tell Patton was unsure about this choice though by the look on his face. It was probably her pushiness that made him uncomfortable. He would never encourage trying to break up a marriage after all. Not to mention it wouldn’t be surprising if Patton had read some things fans had said about her time with Odysseus. He wouldn’t want to be associated with that.

So there were similar concerns to what Virgil had with the actions of a character he’d sing for. He probably needed to be reassured that this was just a role and didn’t have real life repercussions. But Virgil wasn’t good at being comforting like that. Not to mention they weren’t as close as they used to be. Thankfully Virgil wasn’t the only one who picked on this conflict. 

“Patton, can you look at me?” Logan asked, using that gentle voice he did when he was reassuring someone of something. 

Patton turned to face him.

“This is only a role. You are still Patton singing a part, a character who is not real and whose actions you do not emulate. Have fun with the singing of course, but this activity is not meant to cause distress,” Logan said. 

Patton took a breath and nodded. 

Emile chimed in, “You also don’t have to do something you don’t want to do.”

Patton seemed to struggle with that one and didn’t affirm the sentiment. Yeah that figured. It was probably something Janus had been trying to help Patton with, as much as Virgil hated the snake side.

Roman blinked.  “Yeah, of course.” He seemed a bit surprised by the attention this was getting.  “It is merely a suggestion. I wouldn’t force you to do anything.”

Virgil imagined Roman had thought of Patton for this to get some satisfaction from it. But well, it was still hard to see Patton distressed. The emotional side probably hated the attention being taken by him like this. Another thing to work through. Not that Virgil liked that either, but he thought he could get away with that more as anxiety. Emotional regulation and care was important. 

“No, it’s-it’s okay,” Patton force a bit of a laugh. “I think I just needed the reminder about this being a part, you know? Probably seems silly.”

Virgil shook his head at that.  “It’s not silly if it distresses you. Trust me, I would know,” Virgil said. He wasn’t always the best with that, but it was still a good reminder to have.

Patton blinked and looked at Virgil. He definitely seemed surprised that Virgil was comforting him. But then he gave him a small grateful smile.  “Right. I am okay singing for her though. It could be fun, I like her singing style,” Patton said.

“And remember, you don’t have to sing for her every time,” Janus added, softer than he usually spoke. Even Janus could get softer when it came to Patton it seemed.  “We can switch things up.”

Patton nodded. “Right.” 

Roman seemed to be waiting around for them to finish with an uncertain look on his face now. When Patton turned back to him, Roman nodded.

“Okay, last we have-oh, we forgot Aeolus, the wind god!” Roman exclaimed.

“I can be them,” Janus said. 

“Yeah you seem playful enough for them,” Roman said as he wrote that down. Janus playfully hissed and winked at Roman. Roman rolled his eyes as he turned back to face everyone.

“So the last parts to assign are from God games. I’ll be Apollo, since Odysseus isn’t in this one.”

“You don’t think it should be Remy?” Patton asked hesitantly. “Since you’re singing a lot and-“

“Gurl I literally don’t care how many parts I got,” Remy interrupted, still casually slurping his coffee. 

Emile frowned at him. “Remy, you didn’t have to interrupt poor Patton. You should apologize for your rudeness.”

Remy groaned dramatically, but he turned to face Patton. He did lift his sunglasses up to look at Patton first though. “Like, sorry,” He said.

“Oh, uh, i-it’s okay,” Patton said. Remy snapped and put his sunglasses back on. Emile sighed but didn’t say anything.

“Right, so Remy’s fine with it.” Roman looked between Virgil and Logan as he hummed. 

“I think Logan would be good for Hephaestus.” 

Logan hummed as he considered this.  “Alright.”

“Aphrodite will be Patton,” Roman said.

“Oh, okay,” Patton said with a smile. 

Roman opened his mouth again and then paused.  “Virgil shouldn’t be two different parts in the same song, so Remus can be Ares,”

“Okay!” Remus exclaimed as he threw his hand up holding his Morningstar. Emile’s eyes widened at seeing the weapon waving around. He scooted closer to Remy. 

Oh right, Emile probably wasn’t used to Remus shenanigans. Let alone seeing a weapon be casually swung around. Remy apparently found it in him to be protective, because he wrapped an around arm Emile. He did seem slightly amused by Remus though, given the way he looked at him. 

“Now for Hera…” Roman tapped his chin as he thought about it.  “Well, I’m already Apollo, so I shouldn’t be Hera…honestly I could see Remy or Janus for this. I’m not sure Remy would get into this one as much as Hermes though.”

“Why’s that?” Virgil asked.

Roman shrugged.  “I don’t know, a different vibe while both dancers. Oh, that’s another reason you couldn’t be Athena, Logan. Cause she would dance in Hera’s part.”

“Ah, I see,” Logan said.

“Logan can dance though,” Patton added.

Logan hmmed. “I do not wish to though.” 

“I think you answered your own question there,” Janus said with a smirk. 

“You’d be fine with dancing?” Roman asked.

Janus shrugged. “I can get into a part, have a good time.”

“Alright then-“

“Hang on,” Virgil raised a hand.  “I thought we were just doing a sing along, why are we talking about dancing?” He asked. Roman smiled at him indulgently. 

“Well, they don’t have to of course. But there are some parts that are hard not to dance to, you know? Don’t worry my dark and stormy knight, this isn’t a performance of any sort,” Roman said with a wink. 

Vigil sputtered a bit but then didn’t respond. Simply nodding. Patton put a hand to his mouth and giggled a bit. Traitor. Logan more looked exasperated at their antics but didn’t comment.  Roman stood up from his seat and clapped his hands. 

“Alright! Is everyone ready?” 

Virgil took a breath. He hoped this would go okay. 

[enby-trash-rat]

Glasses

Fandom//Sander Sides

Part 2/?

Warning: Swearing

Story Written by:

@a-rat-called-remus and @viva-gardens

Remus' mind immediately wandered off as his brother continued to shout at the others.

It was a surprise Roman hadn't noticed Remus.

He had stared at him two times in a row when he was addressing all of them. And every time Roman's eyes landed on Remus, whether it was just a second, a new jolt of panic came ricocheting off of him nearly knocking the breath out of Virgil. Stuck in the storm that was raging in Remus' head.

He didn't know how to stop it.

He didn't know how to help.

It was clear now that the glasses weren't the only thing causing this. It was Roman. Roman was part of the problem. A major part. Remus' anxiety spiked every time Roman's eyes moved his way.

Which wasn't Remus-like behavior.

He never seemed to care about his appearance or whatever people thought of him.

Thomas seemed to be in his own little world.

Roman snaps his fingers. "Hello? Thomas! Are you even listening?"

Roman's voice snaps him out of the trance. Thomas startles, his head jerking up to face Roman before.

Thomas looked around to see everyone in their assigned spots. Which was odd . . .

Not to mention he hadn't summoned any of them Not willingly at least. Had he summoned them subconsciously? I mean sure Thomas was facing yet another dilemma. Nothing new. That was normal. But if Thomas had summoned every figment of himself maybe it was way worse than he thought. Usually it was just the core sides that were summoned whether it be intentional or not. But he had seemed to have summoned Janus and Remus as well. Thomas could feel the tsunami of anxiety radiating off of Virgil.

Thomas stared at the others in surprise.

"Roman, what do you mean?"

Roman looks at him and blinks "What?"

"I didn't summon you guys." Thomas states.

"You didn't?" Roman asked, he looked as confused as Thomas. If Thomas hadn't summoned them . . .

"No." Thomas shook his head. "I didn't."

Thomas started to worry more. A good 50% was probably from Virgil, basically radiating bad energy, but why were they here?

Patton, Logan, Virgil and Janus turn to look at Thomas.

They all had been thinking the same thing.

"Huh," Patton says after a while.

Logan looks around the room. "Well, there has to be a reason why we're all here. If Thomas didn't do it intentionally like he claims, well . . He had to have done it subconsciously, which isn't strange considering it's happened in the past but it usually meant there was something that was hurting Thomas." He states. It was strange and it certainly wasn't good. Like he had stated this was most certainly not the first time this has happened but how big could the situation be for all of them to be summoned? For once Logan looked confused.

Unlike Roman and most of the sides Logan had noticed Remus. He didn't look too well himself.

He seemed to be in a rough state himself, he seemed to be as anxious as Thomas and Virgil.

Which would explain why Virgil was more on edge than usual. He was absorbing Remus' anxiety and panic which definitely wasn't any help to Thomas.

"Not all of us are here. Thankfully."

Logan jerks his head in Roman's direction raising both of his eyebrows.

"No. I believe everyone is here." His eyes darted around the room again to take count of everyone. And as expected and not to his surprise, everyone was indeed present.

Roman. Patton. Janus. Remus and himself.

Logan looks back at Roman. "Yes. As I stated everyone is present, you're just not observant."

"Well, you're wrong." Roman shoots back.

Janus looks between Roman and Logan.

"May I ask who you believe is missing from this mess of a group?"

Roman turns to face him. "Isn't it obvious! Have you failed notice that a certain someone isn't here? That for once it is actually peaceful!"

Janus blinked at Roman, his lips twitching upwards. Curling into a smile.

His eyes flickered in between the Anxious and Princely side where Remus stood unusually quiet and distracted.

Janus' eyes had a glint to them.

He opened his mouth to speak, to correct Roman.

To tell him he was wrong.

That Remus was standing right beside him.

But just as he was going to speak he felt a pair of eyes boring through him. The set of eyes belonged to Virgil.

He was staring him down. Glaring daggers at him.

Those same eyes were begging.

Saying something that not just anyone could understand. Those eyes had a look in them.

A look that can only be described as, "don't."

He stared back, the smile fading as quickly as it had formed.

He looked back at Remus.

And it was suddenly clear what that look meant.

Remus was in a vulnerable state, and Janus hadn't even noticed. Sure, he noticed Remus wasn't talking nor doing anything destructive but he hadn't realized that he was in such distress.

He was supposed to be his friend, yet he hadn't realized the obvious, for once, Remus didn't want to be noticed.

The once obnoxious and carefree Duke was trying his best to hide himself.

Keep himself unnoticed.

Remus was scared. Terrified.

He didn't want anyone to see him.

Anyone meaning Roman.

Roman would make fun of him.

He would laugh and make jokes.

So, Remus stood in his spot, silent as he could be.

I'm feeling more anxious than I probably should be. Thomas thought.

"Virgil? Are you okay? I feel really anxious, and I know it's coming from you. I mean, you're anxiety. So, unless another one of the sides is that anxious, it would be you, right?" Thomas asked quietly.

Virgil was too busy trying to ground himself before jerking his up at Thomas.

So, Remus stood in his spot, silent as he could be.

He just really hoped his tentacles wouldn't do anything. He was overstimulated and usually when that happened they would---

Remus then heard a loud, SLAP. He turned and saw one of his tentacles backing away from Roman's face.

Roman whipped around and glared at Remus.

"WHAT THE F*CK WAS THAT? WHY DID YOU SLAP ME?" Roman screamed.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Remus shouted back unfortunately it came out more as a whimper.

He sounded pathetic.

Roman scoffed.

"Didn't mean to? DIDN'T MEAN TO? YOU SLAPPED ME!!!!!"

Remus stared at Roman in horror.

His heart was racing. He knew he was in trouble.

Roman would yell at him then see his glasses.

He would joke. He would laugh.

Remus cursed himself.

Why couldn't he control his tentacles?

He got in trouble because of them!

Roman was mid-yelling at Remus for slapping him when he saw the glasses.

"AND ONE MORE THIN-"

Remus knew Roman saw the glasses.

Suddenly Roman had gone silent.

He had stopped yelling at him.

Unless Janus silenced him.

Which Remus doubted.

"You have glasses?" Roman asked.

Remus stayed silent.

"PFFTTT- YOU HAVE GLASSES!!!"

Remus wanted to cry.

He wanted to leave. He didn't want to be here.

He wished one of his tentacles would slap Roman again, but none of them did. No such luck..

[analyzing-people-like-hell]

saw your recent post in the sanders sides tag - here goes:

Some of these are more fun-to-watch than relates-to-me, but I figure listing ‘em all will give you more to work with.

Listed in alphabetical order, except as needed to group sources together.

Alastor, Hazbin Hotel (show)

- He’s charming, confident, very good in his chosen field, and also happens to be AroAce. He appreciates jokes, but can also be intimidating.

Cayde-6, Destiny (game)

- Quick wit, quick shot. Always fun to hear his dialogue during missions and strikes. The kinda guy you’d go to for a good story (or if you’re lookin’ for extra paperwork to do).

Crow, Destiny (game)

- Good guy, interesting situation (read: tragic backstory). Not exactly doomed-by-the-narrative, but…

The Doctor (10th), Doctor Who (show)

- Honestly, not sure why. He’s just fun to watch. (Also, he has a very distinct/memorable way of phrasing things)

Data, Star Trek: The Next Generation (show)

- Yes, I’m Autistic; How’d you guess? (/j) Honestly though, having a discussion with him about humanity/social behaviors/other things would be SO interesting!

Odo, Star Trek: Deep Space 9 (show)

- If Odo and I were in the same room, I don’t think there’d be much talking. But, in a two-introverts-who-got-dragged-to-the-same-party-and-are-avoiding-the-humans-together kind of way. Companionable silence.

Spock, Star Trek: The Original Series (show)

- He’s just cool. (also a HUGE childhood influence towards logical thinking)

Malcolm Reynolds, Firefly (show)

- Protective of his crew, “Has a conscience, and hates it,” no-nonsense, practical thinker, quick wit, stubborn.

Simon Tam, Firefly (show)

- Very good at what he does (doctor), smart, stands by what he believes in (“when you’re on my table, you’re safe”), and who he cares about (his sister).

River Tam, Firefly (show)

- …River is a mood. Specifically, a “leave me alone, I can’t talk now, my brain is full of bees” mood.

Seth, Lost Terminal (podcast)

- He’s an AI who used to live in a satellite, and made his way down to a post-collapse Earth so he could talk to people. He often mentions the intricacies and confusing nuances of human communication, his distrust of plants and salt, and the fact that humans are quite fond of bread and beer.

Susan Ivanova, Babylon 5 (show)

- “No boom today. Boom tomorrow. There’s always a boom tomorrow.”

Michael Garibaldi, Babylon 5 (show)

- If any of the main cast could’ve broken the fourth wall, it would have been him. I don’t know what that says about his character, but it feels right.

Virgil Sanders, Sanders Sides (YouTube series)

- He’s the personification of (Thomas’) Anxiety, but he can be quite brave when he needs to be. When he’s under pressure/more anxious/needs to be listened to, he’ll act more abrasive, but he has a softer side (heh side) he shows when safe. He’s also the secondary brain cell holder of the main cast.

Logan Sanders, Sanders Sides (YouTube series)

- The brain cell (/pos). Also seems to be going through… gifted-kid-burnout-angst-stuff, for lack of a better term. Also nicknamed the Mom of the group, though someone pointed out that he didn’t choose that title for himself, which I thought was interesting.

Janus Sanders, Sanders Sides (YouTube series)

- I think you already saw him in another ask, so I’ll be brief: “You’re not stuck with an ‘evil snake boy.’ *pose* You’re just stuck with a snake boy.”

…After typing this all out, I’ve noticed that most of these fall into one of three categories:

~Autism~ TM (/pos)

Competent, might be an asshole

Protecc/Attacc

I don’t know what that means, but it’s kinda funny.

Have fun!

ANALYSIS #4: 06/11/24

It's about time I start getting around to all these new test subjects. I apologize for the wait, but I'm more than ready to see what you have in store for me here, #4.

I'm not familiar with the majority of these characters, so this could very much be a hit or miss analysis.... Your descriptions definitely aided me a lot, so thank you for that. I guess we'll just have to wait and see if this ends up being accurate at all...

Why don't we see if I got your backstory right first? It's where everything originates, after all.

"LORE":

You seem to be an observer in this game of life. I feel like you've spent a large part of your existence on the outskirts of everything, and the times you have joined the outside world were never completely of your own volition.... You don't feel like you particularly fit in as a "human", yet at the same time everything you feel is all too human. I can imagine it gets pretty overwhelming, and you've probably gotten a lot of heat for it in your younger years. Maybe you didn't have many friends growing up, and the ones you did have probably didn't live up to your expectations of what "friendship" was supposed to be. Maybe you've had friends that took advantage of you and it didn't even click until the damage was already done, or you stuck it out because.. that's what friendship's supposed to be about, right? Maybe you were just left out in general, always the second option unless they needed something out of you. Who knows. There could be a lot variations of what happened in your childhood regarding relationships, but I'm guessing they didn't always make much sense to you. It's probably why you stay on the outskirts so much. If the world won't let you experience humanity for yourself, you can at least watch humanity from afar.

I have a feeling your home life wasn't all that great? It wasn't particularly terrible-- you're grateful for what you were given-- but you wish there were things that were done differently. I think this also plays into the whole "disconnect from people" bit. Maybe they cared for you, but it was clear they didn't understand you, and it can be a little hard to be grateful when somebody's care is always... a little off? If that's the case, I bet it probably feels worse knowing that you can't really blame them for not understanding. Things are probably better now as you've grown, but there are things that still sting just a bit. Also for some reason I think you were homeschooled.... No reason why, it just came to mind, and I've learned trusting my gut makes my analyses more accurate. I'd like to see if that ends up being true.

Another thing that my gut keeps telling me is that the tism is strong in this one. You've already confirmed that, but I specifically feel like (i'm assuming you're diagnosed based on how you phrased "yes, i'm autistic") you were either diagnosed at a pretty early age or you were late diagnosed (probably because of icky-ew gendered stereotypes in medical fields) and it explained a whole hell of a lot of your childhood, to the point where you're surprised you weren't diagnosed way earlier in life. Heavily leaning to the latter, by the way, but the first still has a 5 to 15% chance of standing. Either way, it depicts why you'd feel such a heavy disconnect from the people around you. It's as if everyone was given a script to life, meanwhile you're forced to improv it the whole way through. Do you see life as a game? How much time have you dedicated to perfecting your skills, believing that perfecting them would be the key to winning these petty social games? Are you sure you're not still lost? Just some food for thought.

Anyways, with that all in mind, let's see what really goes on inside that head of yours...

THE TRUTH:

You still resent the world in a way, don't you? I can't shake the thought that there's still a resentment buried inside you that's been bubbling for a while. Maybe it's lessened a bit, but you can still feel it resurface every now and then. It's as if sometimes a reminder will come your way and it's another crack added to that bottle you've been storing all your emotions in. Like another poke at the confines will unleash everything you've been working on trying to maintain. I don't think it's spilled over yet, but I think we both know it's certainly not far from tipping over. You surprise even yourself with how much you've managed so far.

Part of you has lost your vulnerability. I'm not sure when or how, but I think it goes back to that disconnect from people. I don't think you've met anybody who's completely understood you yet, which has probably led to constant misunderstanding from everyone else. That kind of persistent detachment is bound to make anyone lose parts of themselves. If that's what happened, I'm sorry they took that part away from you. You deserved to be yourself without being shot down over and over, you still deserve that. It really is a shame that the world is too blind to see the beautiful depth in your soul. Complexity is never a flaw. Complexity is rarely even "complex". The world just needs to learn how to appreciate you at your core, and I truly hope they're able to see that in you soon. 

In fact, why don't I detail some of the complex beauty that I can pinpoint? If the world can't see it, then it only makes sense if I spell it out for them.

YOUR BEST TRAITS:

You're very attentive. You also seem to have some pretty good wit. That not only makes you a really great analyst, but I think it'd make you a pretty great comforter too. You're able to analyze and recognize patterns in people, and you seem to still hold a great appreciation for people despite how isolated people have made you feel. Despite always feeling like an outcast, there's still a part of you that cares. Those are qualities that truly great comforters have. However, with how confusing relationships with other people can be sometimes, I can also see why that would hinder your ability for it and turn you away. Nevertheless, the foundation is still strong. You're still strong. Use that to your advantage. Take back the life that you deserved. Show them that you are not the painting they've made of you.

I just feel like you're really funny for some reason, and probably pretty chill while still being able to stand your own ground and opinions. That's a highly respectable mix of traits to have, at least in my eyes. You also for some reason remind me of that main guy from Magnus Archives. I've never listened to Magnus Archives though. All of the information I know about that podcast has come from random clips I've stumbled upon and rants from my friends who are into it. But from the information I have on him, I view him as a weird little autistic guy who's always a little tired, a little witty, maybe a little too obsessed with analyzing sometimes, also probably on the aroace spectrum. However, he's also a hard worker who-- when he cares about people-- he really cares about them, and if he likes you then you could probably drag him just about anywhere (even if he grumbles the whole way through). Now I have zero clue if any of that is true to his character, but I feel like it could maybe fit yours, and I at least think people like that are a pretty special find. 

Also, you're just a wee little guy. A little snake boi even.

And with that, I think I'll leave my thoughts here and take my bow.

With utmost gratitude (and hopefully utmost accuracy),

Dr. WZ

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

NO NO NO do not let the Spooky Gays kiss!

I mean—absolutely, 100% let them kiss, but NOT LIKE AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY DID

I do NOT need a Dukexiety version of the Ineffable Divorce SPARE ME FROM THIS PLEASE

however.

if Virgil is Aziraphale would Heaven be the "Light" Sides? Roman as Michael, Logan as Gabriel, and… I guess maybe unsympathetic!Patton as the Metatron? (😭nooo) (someone has to be the Metatron though and also manipulative Patton working "for the greater good" go brrr)

and then I guess Janus as Beelzebub… this is not my greatest casting job ever. like, it works fine, but.

hang on I’m redoing it.

FROM THE TOP!

Aziraphale—Patton (they’re both just doing their best and fucking it up a little bit in ways that will irreversibly affect the plot. also repression twins)

Crowley—Janus (snake theme on point)(oh hey look it’s tragic moceit)

Beelzebub—Remus (slimy)(oh he’d be so funny as Eric though??? kill him over and over and it’s unclear how many of him will keep coming back. pathetic and has eyeliner.)

Gabriel—Virgil (for the purposes of the ship, though Logan would also work pretty well as Gabriel)

Michael—Roman (idk why exactly but this would work)

The Metatron—Dragon Witch or Orange or someone who barely exists as a character, so we can still safely dislike The Metatron

Muriel—Logan in a happier timeline. he would also slay as Anathema but the Good Omens fandom is mostly focused on S2 right now.

Honorary mentions!

Nina—Remy (coffee and toxic relationships)

Maggie—Emile (adsfbjcfygl imagine him having a little shop that’s essentially a Blockbuster instead of a record store. (ignore that I don’t really know what a Blockbuster is. he sells cartoons, is the point.) imagine. him with a cartoon shop and a pathetic crush on Remy.)

Thomas—nonexistent. fuck that guy /j it’s not his fault I don’t know how to cast or write him. he’s great. unless anyone really wants to explain Thomas Sanders discourse to me, I will continue to assume he’s just a human being doing his best. he can be the barkeep in Edinburgh or something if he really wants to be. one of the other angels. part of the Shopkeeper’s Association with his friends. who knows.

In summary, don’t make them be Aziraphale and Crowley. but they would be SO GOOD as Aziraphale and Crowley. paralleling Ineffable Divorce with Accepting Anxiety. Aziraphale leaving Crowley for the greater good vs Virgil leaving Remus for (what I assume to be) mainly his personal good. Crowley/Remus = stupid gay sort-of-evil disasters. Virgil would also be good as Crowley but I would be terminally impressed by any fic author that managed to make Remus as Aziraphale make sense.

-🐢

To be fair Ineffable Husbands are A L O T more Moceit coded than Dukexiety but it makes for a fun dynamic for the Spooky Beloveds like the example you gave XD But I absolutely A D O R E that casting I've seen Ineffable Husbands as Moceit but I've never seen those for the others before!!! (Also making The Dragon Witch or Orange The Metatron is so R E A L)

[lokilysolbitch]

GUYS pls help i have a line stuck in my head and i can't figure out what it's from or who says it but i have some guesses

EDIT: HES BEEN LOCATED ITS ASTARION THANK YOU DNDECEIT

okay the context i think is one guy like mentions or asks about something important and the other guy says some like "oh you mean the [super important information that highly affects them]? it's been on my mind. 🙄why?" and it is DRIPPING with sarcasm. it's a male voice and is very smooth and silky and somewhat low and just barely singsongy with how expressive it is tone wise

edit: they have either an american or english accent. im just now noticing it might just be english because i think the ee in been has a ee sound instead of a eh sound

it sounds a lot like peter nureyev from the penumbra podcast but im not sure if that's right. my other guesses are (edit: maybe porter???) gavin or vega or maybe blake or someone like that from redacted audio or someone like maybe janus from sanders sides but i don't think that's right either. it might not be any of them but the voice is very much like peter nureyev. if it is from the penumbra podcast it would be from season one or all of season two except the last 2-4 episodes.

i've also been watching gravity falls recently so maybe i picked it up from a scene from that????

guys i'm losing my mind who says this🙏😭

[esmereldapearl]

OKAY, FINALLY DOING THE AU THING BUT AS BULLET POINTS;

The Hamilton AU:

- Janus found Virgil randomly and adopted him

- Logan was kinda a lawyer

- Remus worked overseas/wasn’t pictured much but it was mentioned he might’ve been serving in the military or somethin’

- Patton and Roman were friends

- Roman was married to someone else, a woman, who would help hide him and she had a daughter from a pervious relationship so he stepped into the dad role for her

- Logan was more of the “you did WHAT?” kind of guy and I forget who did what but they needed a lawyer and Patton found him and he was just like ..*sigh* why… (could’ve sworn it was Roman or Virgil)

- Janus took care of Virgil and was his dad and was protective

- I listed to Satisfied a lot and it became Roman’s song (basically)

- -100/10 I’m afraid of judgement although it was interesting

(This one was created in like late 2020 so judge my past self, not my current self please, I know it’s awful already)

Fantasy;

- ALL TIME FAVORITE AU

- Basically, everything that has happened in Sanders Sides did actually happen here

- There was this door at the very edge of the imagination (imagination is like this cool garden)

- When you go through it there’s this new world with like Dragons and waterfalls and mountains

-In the AU, there’s a person who is part dragon and has wings but is human and she hides from everyone cuz she’s scared

- Then it turns out that her own brother who’s not part dragon is totally against her and betrays her and the entire world there so she has to finally talk to someone

-She gets Roman and he relays it and everyone’s like “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US SOONER????” towards her (there’s a lot of what the hell moments in my AUs)

- 8/10 love this one because of how pretty the other world was

This one was created summer of 2021 and 90% created while I was swinging and spacing out

Mystery/Secret/Split AU;

- This one I still sometimes incorporate into current ones!

-Basically, at one point, the light sides and dark sides were friends and all lived in the same area- no need for travel they were all there

- Janus and Patton were both the leaders of them

- Then they started arguing and it all broke into two- Janus being the leader of the Darksides and Patton the light sides

- They were all young when it happened but Remus and Roman remembered playing together and sharing a room as kids

- That area was abandoned

- Then, Roman and Virgil are messing around (present) and find this secret door and open it by stealing Patton’s keys

- Annnnnddd it shuts behind them and they’re stuck but they’re intrigued by what’s there so they look around

- There was a bookshelf, Logan’s, and it was all dusty and cobwebbed

- They keep looking and find Roman and Remus’s old room and remember EVERYTHING

- They get VERY angry

- Meanwhile, everyone’s like “uhh where’d they go??” And Patton realizes that his keys aren’t in his nightstand anymore and Janus scolds him

- Everyone’s trying to lie to Thomas as to why Roman and Virgil aren’t there (a lot of the lies coming from Remus) and he starts to get suspicious

- Roman eventually realizes that the imaginations connect and Patton comes out and realizes what happened

- 10/10 still use it and still like it

Was created also in 2021 but more like fall of 2021 after I had a dream and went HUH THATS COOL I CAN CHANGE SOME PARTS (dream was weird, Roman and Virgil were getting hit by these two kids with like water balloons and then they chased the kids and then Roman threw one back at the kids and they went inside and NOBODY was there and they were freaked out)

I really hope that these don’t like upset anybody- I’ve been timid to share them for that reason, especially the Hamilton one, so I already know there’s some “…” parts but I don’t make AUs like those anymore anyway- but I think I’ll start posting more recent fanfics that I hope to make in order to get better at writing

[prodigal-explorer]

to celebrate together - a sanders sides fanfiction

this is a cute fluffy fic (for the most part) about human versions of the sides discussing easter, ramadan, and passover, three very prominent holidays from three different religions during the springtime!

(cws -> brief mention of anti-semetism, brief mention of anti-semetic hate crimes, honestly there are brief moments of insensitivity towards all three religions mentioned (christianity/catholicism, islam, and jewish) but they are genuine moments of confusion and not in bad faith! this fic is about learning and growing and respecting other religions, so there is a bit of a learning curve.)

word count: 2.9k

(also, i know i usually write a lot of unsympathetic patton which may deter some people. it will comfort these people to know that patton is not unsympathetic in this fic! he's actually a cool guy! so don't worry about that.)

Everyone in the house knew that Easter was one of Patton’s favorite holidays by now. They had only been living together for a few months, but it was obvious from the new way Patton carried himself in the springtime. He bought a lot of Easter-themed furniture, so by the time March 1st rolled around, the house was covered head to toe in eggs, bunnies, baskets, chicks, and crosses. Lots of crosses. 

“Why are there a bunch of plus signs everywhere?” Roman had dared to ask one day, “Logan, is this one of your math projects?” 

“You seriously don’t know what a cross is?” Patton asked, his eyes wide with shock, “Oh, that’s right. You’re balsamic.” 

“Uh…Islamic,” Roman corrected awkwardly, “Me and Remus just say we’re Muslim. And I know what a cross is, I just didn’t know that it was one of those. They really do look like plus signs with a big tail. What are they all for?” 

“Well, they’re Easter decorations!” Patton explained readily, “Since Easter is the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus, we have crosses here to commemorate all he sacrificed for his people.” 

“Wow,” Roman said, a smile forming on his face, “I guess Jesus must have been pretty brave.” 

“He’s not just brave, Roman,” Patton said, “He died for us. The least we can do is celebrate him.” 

“Yeah, that seems fair,” Roman said, still gazing around the colorful, decked out area with a gentle, somewhat cautious curiosity that was generally unlike him. He seemed to sense that this was sensitive territory. “So…why do you guys celebrate Easter the way you do? With the bunnies and the eggs? Did Jesus really like sunny side up or something? Did he have a pet bunny?” 

“Come on,” Patton said, “I want to tell everyone about this!” 

Roman grinned and followed Patton into the living room, where the others were sitting and chatting. Logan was on the recliner, working on a grocery list, while Janus and Remus were on the ground, playing Go-Fish. Virgil was spread across the couch, scrolling through his phone. 

“Guys, Patton’s gonna teach us about Easter!” Roman said, “Like, why they use the eggs and stuff.” 

“It’s because of Jesus,” Logan droned tiredly, staring up at Patton, “Is this really necessary?” 

“Of course it’s necessary, Logan!” Patton chastised, “It’s the most important event of springtime!” 

Virgil tilted his head. “But what about Passover?” 

“Pass-what?” Patton said, clearly confused, “No, we’re talking about Easter. What’s passover?” 

“I like Layat Al-Qadr best,” Remus shrugged, “It’s the only night of the year where I can get Roman to shut up.” 

“Hey!” Roman protested, “Oh, I have an idea! We’ll have a contest. Each of us will talk about what we think is the most important event of springtime, and then we’ll hold a vote!” 

“I suppose we can do that,” Janus said, “Logan and I don’t celebrate any of these things, so we will be neutral voters. We don’t have any emotional attachment to any of the options.” 

“Perfect!” Patton said, “And we’ll start with Easter, because Easter is-”

“Fat chance,” Virgil said, “Everyone already knows everything about Easter. It’s the only holiday that Americans give a shit about. It’s all over the supermarkets, it gets all the attention and respect. You don’t even know what Passover is, and do you even know that Ramadan exists?” 

“Of course I know what ramen is, I had some for dinner last night,” Patton said. 

The room was silent for a second. 

“Virgil has a point,” Logan said, but when Patton pouted, Logan continued, “But we can still hear Patton out. He may say something we don’t know about yet. Besides, if we’re going to keep this vote objective, we need to hear out every option with equal respect and attention. Can we do that?” 

“Yeah, sorry, Pat,” Virgil said softly.

“Sure,” Remus said, “Tell us about how Jesus got nailed on a cross.” 

“Why would I tell you about that if you already know that part?” Patton asked with a disgusted expression. 

“Cuz it’s the coolest part,” Remus replied with a toothy grin. 

“Well…you’re not entirely wrong,” Patton said, growing excited as he started again to speak, “Easter is the holiday that celebrates the resurrection of Jesus! It’s celebrated every springtime, after the first full moon of spring. Jesus was arrested by Jewish leaders, and he was sentenced to death on the cross for trying to lead his people.” 

“Interesting,” Janus mumbled, narrowing his eyes a bit, “Jewish leaders. That was an interesting detail to mention. Why does that matter to you, Pat?” 

“Anyway,” Patton said icily before continuing the story, “A man named Joseph asked these leaders to take Jesus down from the cross after he died, in order to bury him properly. They allowed it, and Joseph buried Jesus in a stone tomb. But three days later, when people came to put spices on Jesus’ body, they found that he was gone!” 

“So Jesus wasn’t actually dead??” Roman asked, clearly shocked by that twist in the story. 

“Well, of course he’s not dead,” Patton said, “That’s the entire point of Easter, buddy! Jesus was resurrected. Easter is a holiday that represents rebirth. There’s always hope, and Jesus will always be there for us. Even during the darkest times, and even in the face of death.” 

“Jesus is badass,” Remus remarked, “But that still doesn’t explain why there are eggs, though.” 

“Oh! Another part of Easter is something called Lent,” Patton said, “In the 40 days leading up to Easter Sunday, Christians and Catholics celebrate Lent, which is a time of prayer and resisting temptation from sin. People sometimes give up things that they consider to be sinful during Lent. It’s a mindful thing. Right now, I’m giving up alcohol. And back in the medieval times, eggs weren’t allowed during Lent, so on Easter Sunday, eggs were used to signify that Lent has passed on by. Also, eggs…they represent rebirth in a way.” 

“Don’t they just represent birth?” Logan asked. 

“Well, I guess, but…come on, Logan! You like the egg salad I make every easter!”

“Your egg salad is quite good.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

“Easter is pretty cool,” Virgil said, “That’s really cool, actually.” 

“So you think it’s better than your day?” Patton asked hopefully. 

Virgil laughed. “Good one. Easter sounds awesome and all, but nothing beats Passover.” 

“What’s that one?” Roman asked eagerly, “Why’s it called Passover? Do you play basketball or something?” 

“Okay, where the heck did basketball come from?” Janus asked. 

“I mean…you pass over the ball. In basketball,” Roman replied. 

“No basketball,” Virgil chuckled, “It’s actually called Passover for a bit of a complicated reason. I’ll start from the beginning. This story starts in Egypt. The pharaoh, who is basically the leader of Egypt, didn’t like Jewish people, and he didn’t want too many Jewish people living in Egypt. So he enslaved all the Jews who currently lived there, and ordered that all Jewish babies who are birthed in Egypt get killed.” 

Roman’s eyes widened, and he started to feel a bit sick. 

“But why?” he demanded, “The Jewish babies didn’t even do anything!” 

“You’d be surprised what people do to people who are different,” Virgil replied in a mutter, “Anyway, one Jewish woman decided that she wouldn’t let her baby die. She hid her baby in a basket and put him into the river, to float away to somewhere safer. The pharaoh's daughter found the baby, and decided to take him in. His name was Moses.” 

“Oh! Moses!” Roman cried out in recognition, “Like the movie, like the movie The Prince Of Egypt!” 

Virgil smiled slightly and nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah, like that movie. That’s a good movie if you guys want to learn more about Moses.” 

“And listen to some amazing songs by Stephen Schwartz!” Roman added. 

“Roman, let’s let Virgil finish, okay?” Logan said, and Roman reluctantly nodded, turning his attention back to Virgil. 

“Anyway, Moses grew up, and found out that he was Jewish, and he came from a Jewish family. He saw how horribly his people were being treated, and when he killed a slave master, he ran away to the desert,” Virgil continued, “There, he found a burning bush, and the bush talked to him. The bush basically said that he was God, and he was going to help Moses set the Jewish people free. But when Moses came back and told the pharaoh this, the pharaoh refused, over and over. And every time the pharaoh refused, God sent down a different plague, or curse, to Egypt.” 

“But that’s not fair,” Patton protested, “The rest of the people didn’t even do anything.” 

“Well, I don’t disagree,” Virgil said, “But God wasn’t feeling very forgiving after having his people enslaved for years. He knew that there was no other way to convince the pharaoh.” 

“Yeah, if you’re gonna get mad at anyone, get mad at the pharaoh,” Janus said, “He was the stubborn son of a bitch who wouldn’t set free the slaves. He put his people in danger by doing that just because he wanted more free labor.” 

“There were a lot of plagues because the pharaoh kept saying no,” Virgil explained, “And the tenth plague was a curse called the angel of death, a curse that would kill the first-born child of every home. In order to protect the innocent families, God told Moses to tell anyone who would listen to paint over their door with lamb’s blood. If the door was painted over, then the curse would pass over them, and nobody would die. Passover, see?” 

Roman nodded, his eyes widening as he was enraptured in the story. “Passover,” he repeated. 

“The Israelites listened to Moses, but a lot of others in Egypt didn’t, including the Pharaoh,” Virgil said, a bit sadly, “It sucked. They all had to learn the hard way. If they had just listened to Moses, nobody would have died. If the pharaoh had just let the Israelites go the first time, then none of the plagues would have had to happen. But stricken with grief after his firstborn son died, the pharaoh finally let the Israelites go, and they were freed from slavery.” 

“So that’s the story of Passover,” Logan said, “How is it celebrated?” 

“Well, it’s celebrated for eight days,” Virgil explained, “Seven if you’re in Israel. But here in America, it’s eight. On the first night of Passover, Jewish families have a Passover seder, which is a big dinner where we pray and sing, and we tell stories from a book called the Haggadah. All families celebrate a little differently, but for the most part, we do that stuff. I remember when I was little, my mom would always give me a sip of her wine.”

“Damn, just a sip?” Remus asked with a little laugh, “Shoulda given you a whole cup. Imagine a drunk little Virgil stumbling around.” 

“That would have been cool,” Virgil admitted, “Me and my cousins would drink grape juice and pretend to be drunk. After all the serious stuff was over, of course. A big part of Passover is discussing current events. Unfortunately, most places in the world aren’t very Jew-friendly. Even here in America, there are a lot of hate crimes. Actually…” 

Roman noticed with horror that Virgil was getting teary-eyed. 

“Virgil?” Logan asked quietly, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said, trying to wipe away his tears before they fell, “This is hard to talk about. The synagogue that my family went to when I was a kid before I moved here, it- a few years ago- it- it got burnt down.” 

“Burnt down,” Janus realized, “As in…someone did it. On purpose.” 

Virgil nodded, his eyes completely downcast. He was crying, but his face was hardened, almost angry. But not quite. He seemed too sad to be angry. 

“All the drawings the kids made. All the food that people donated. All the copies of the Torah,” he whispered, “It was all gone in one night. My parents still can’t talk about it without crying. I guess I can’t either.” 

“I’ve never heard of anyone burning down a religious building like that,” Patton said softly, “That’s horrible.” 

“Yeah? That’s cuz they don’t burn down your stuff,” Janus said quietly, putting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, Virgil. You…don’t deserve that. Nobody deserves that. No matter what.” 

“Don’t let me stop you from continuing the competition,” Virgil said, “Remus, I wanna hear about yours. What is this one day that can get Roman to shut up?” 

“Do we really have to bring that joke back?” Roman asked, too amused to be sore. 

“Well, the night I was talking about, Layat Al-Qadr, is just one night of Ramadan,” Remus started to explain, “Ramadan’s actually about a month long.” 

“A whole month?” Logan asked, “Wow. That’s a lot longer than Easter and Passover.” 

“Not if you count Lent,” Patton pointed out. 

“Layat Al-Qadr is the 27th day of Ramadan,” Roman continued, “And you pray the whole entire night, pretty much. We ask Allah to forgive us for the mistakes we made, and we hope that he says yes.” 

“How do you know if he says yes?” Logan asked, tilting his head slightly. 

Roman shrugged. “You don’t. That’s why you have to believe.” 

“That sounds kinda boring, praying for the whole night,” Janus admitted, “Is that seriously the only thing you do?” 

“I was worried it would be boring too,” Roman admitted, “But it’s actually really cool. You’d be surprised how therapeutic it is. It feels nice, talking to someone who you know will always listen. Reflecting on all the stuff you did, and figuring out how to do better without worrying about anyone getting mad at you or hating you.” 

“And we also have iftar,” Remus said, “It’s like a giant meal, and we get to spend time with family while breaking our fast.” 

“Wait, wait- you fast?” Virgil asked, “For an entire month?” 

“It’s not so bad,” Remus shrugged, “Especially because we have iftar, and we usually eat a little bit in the morning. Breaking the fast together as a family during iftar is cool, because, like, everybody’s breaking it at the same time. So it’s like- we all are hungry together, and then we all become satisfied together. It’s pretty cool.” 

“We also have five prayers that we say every day,” Roman added, “Along with an extra one at night. The prayers are the really important part because it’s so traditional. It’s been done for so many years before us, it’s like…passing down a torch. We don’t want to forget about it. So we do it to honor the people before us, so that hopefully, the people after us have something in common with us when they celebrate Ramadan.” 

“Well, when you explain it like that, it sounds really cool,” Virgil admitted. 

“I used to think prayer was weird, and kinda culty,” Janus mumbled, clearly a bit ashamed, “But…it actually sounds awesome. Mindful, you know?” 

“Wait, where does Ramadan come from anyway?” Patton asked, “Like the fasting and the praying. Who started it?” 

“It was started by the Prophet Muhammad,” Roman said eagerly, “He’s this really cool guy who told us what Allah wanted for the Muslim people. And Ramadan is the month on the Muslim calendar where Muhammad found the Quran, which is our holy book. It’s sort of like Patton’s bible and Virgil’s Torah.” 

“Oh, gotcha,” Patton said. 

“To be more specific, it’s the ninth month of our calendar,” Remus said, “But also, it depends on the moon. It’s like a thing. To try and spot the Ramadan moon. Roman and I did it a few times when we were younger.” 

“It’s hard to do it now,” Roman said, “There’s so much artificial light in this city. But once it’s high enough in the sky, we can see it great. It’s so cool, feeling like you discovered something.” 

“And we fast because Muhammad told us to, basically,” Remus said, “It’s one of the five pillars of Islam, fasting during Ramadan. And like Roman said, the Muslim people have done it for thousands and thousands of years. So it feels really awesome to continue it today. Even if it leaves us a little hungry and cranky sometimes.” 

“You guys should come to iftar sometime,” Roman said, “A bunch of our Muslim friends and us all come together and eat and talk and laugh, and just enjoy each other’s company.” 

“It sounds amazing,” Virgil said, “Kinda like Passover seder.” 

Remus nudged Virgil gently, smiling over at him. 

“Hey, yeah!” he said. 

“And Easter Sunday!” Patton piped up. 

“Maybe all our events have more in common than we think,” Roman said, “I mean, all of them have cool stories, and big dinners, and just…that festive attitude. That feeling of carrying on a tradition that’s so much bigger than yourself.” 

“Do we even need a vote, then?” Logan asked, “I don’t know what to vote for. All of those events sound lovely.” 

“I agree,” Janus said, “Maybe we can vote on something else. Like what movie to watch tonight?” 

“I vote The Prince Of Egypt!” Roman cried out, “Virgil made me think about it, and now all the songs are in my head!” 

“Oh! I’ll make some egg salad for dinner!” Patton said, “It’s the 21st century, we’re allowed to eat eggs during Lent now!” 

“Maybe I’ll bring in the leftover date cookies from yesterday’s iftar,” Remus said. 

“Yes, those are so good!” Roman agreed, “And I wrapped them in foil, so they should still taste fresh!” 

Virgil smiled and closed his eyes, wiping away his residual tears gently as he listened to his friends ramble and scramble to celebrate together. Maybe tonight, this strange amalgamation of Easter, Ramadan, and Passover, the mutual respect and admiration for these three holidays, was their most important event of the springtime.

--

(i hope you all enjoyed this fic!! during times like these especially, it is so important to remember that every religion is beautiful and valid, and every religious holiday ought to be respected! now, i am not catholic, christian, muslim, or jewish. i wrote about these holidays after doing extensive research from multiple sources for each, but if i got anything wrong, please please let me know and i will correct it to the best of my ability. i promise i want to learn and grow, just like these guys, so if something is inaccurate, please tell me if you feel so inclined, and i will take what you say into account!!)

(have an amazing spring, no matter what you celebrate!!)