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greenninjagal-blog · 10 months ago

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Dead Men Break No Codes pt1

I've been playing too many escape rooms recently. Fic be upon ye :D

Summary: Rookie Fbi agent, Roman is a certified genius who's time to shine is right now, while a serial killer's taken up taunting the police with puzzles leading them to the bodies of their victims! Someone should probably warn him about being so good at his job.

Word Count: 12020

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybinaa @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Chapter One: Odd Man Out

The letter found at the latest crime scene isn’t directly addressed to Roman but based on the entire crime scene team’s reaction, it might as well have been.

Roman had barely held onto the card for more than a few minutes, just enough that he could gage the type of paper, the ink color, the number of pages, the smell—all the nitty gritty details that might help them solve the riddles before someone else died—before he sent it off to the labs for further testing. Roman’s notes along with photos of each of the three pages of the banal opinions were displayed through a projector on the wall of the conference room they were in so everyone could see them, but the longer Roman stared at it all, the more he thought that he might have been going slightly stir crazy.

“I stand by what I said,” Virgil says from the corner where he’s strangling a stress ball to the point of it disintegrating in his hands. “Someone needs to get this guy a fucking hobby. Who even uses the word “effulgent” anymore?”

“I think murdering people is his hobby,” Roman comments as he scribbles through yet another code breaking attempt that led nowhere and provided nothing but a hatred for the English alphabet.

It’s obvious there's some type of code in it: previous crime scenes and puzzles aside, no one uses the words Verisimilitude and Brummagem without it being intentional, and certainly not the guy who’s killed ten people in the past three weeks. There are underlined words that spell out "your year of creation is key" and bolded words that read out “From Capitals to Rome” and all of it was tied together with a stunning, swooping bit of calligraphy that's left him with a headache after staring at it so long. Perfect punctuation, no extra doodles or dots: the letter itself talks scathingly about modern adaptations of Sherlock Holmes and detectives and what it means to be a genius in a world that doesn’t appreciate geniuses. Roman’s done the math: thirty-three sentences, averaging ten words across all of them, no direct address, but signed off with a cute “Plex”.

Which was short for “Perplex” because their serial killer thought they were clever.

If Roman had come across this guy in any other situation, he might have grown a grudging respect for him. Might have asked him out for drinks, even! Some of the puzzles that they’d come across are downright dazzling and ingenious and challenging and reminded Roman of his childhood so much they were nostalgic. If Roman ignored the code and read the letter as it was, he was left with a strangely twisted form of sick sympathy: he’d been a genius in a small town where everyone knew everyone else and trying to connect with people there had been like trying to squeeze himself into a pair of shoes he’d outgrown when he was four.

He’d been bored by schoolwork, already outpacing the teachers, too curious to wait until the next class to find answers which left him ahead of his peers. There weren’t thrilling enough mystery books in the library and every movie had ended in the most predictable way ever. He’d received the scorn of his own friends when he breezed through assignments that they struggled with at the same rate he’d received their adoration in any sort of academic competition or group project. Reading the letter in front of him, which was, at its core, someone else’s observations when they rang that close to Roman’s own internal laments, left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

What a horrible thing,—Roman thinks throwing his pen across the room to where the trashcan had been at one point and reaching for another— to have found more fucking kindship with a murderer than with the rest of his team.

He’d only been with this FBI team for a few months, and Roman’s ability to deftly stick his foot in his mouth had already put him at odds with most of the people he was supposed to be working with. The habit of thinking far too fast wasn’t a new thing for Roman to be dealing with, but Roman still forgot that not everyone was aware of just how fast he thought until he was blurting out a harmless comment he forgot could be taken as an insult.

His team leader—a man by the name of Logan Ackroyd—had bluntly told Roman that if he couldn’t keep his mouth in line there wouldn’t be a place for him on the team come the next week and Roman almost quit on the spot to avoid having to go through the utter embarrassment of being fired for his inability to play well with others, when he’d gotten multiple recommendations from high profile FBI agents who’d guaranteed Logan that Roman lived up to the rumors.

Logan had told him that he didn’t bother accepting fresh academy graduates usually, but the sheer volume of letters from colleagues had won Roman a chance to prove he was good enough to stay on permanently. And after six months, Roman is still standing with that Damocles sword over his head, with no sign of Logan changing his mind.

Logan’s right hand, Patton Hart, assures him that Logan means well, even if he doesn’t say it in so many (or any) words.

Patton radiates the gentle air of a tired, but well-meaning father although Roman’s never heard of him having any children and sometimes his existence is all that keeps Roman from crying the moment he home. He’s never been afraid to cut Logan off in the middle of a lecture or remind everyone they’re supposed to be fighting the serial killers not each other…as long as he’s paying attention.

Roman’s no stranger to getting caught up in his thoughts, but Patton is exactly like those cats who meow at dark corners when there’s nothing there; his crystal blue eyes soften with a distant gaze, seeing something that no one else can see for so long that once an actual gunfight broke out around them and Patton didn’t notice at all. Each conversation with Patton left Roman feeling as though he was being seen through instead of being looked at, but that was a small price to pay since Patton won’t take his words the wrong way no matter what he says.

In comparison, Virgil Storm is the person that Roman clashes with the most. Roman had been through enough Psych classes to hazard a guess that Virgil takes Roman’s entire existence as a threat to his own position: Roman is younger, prettier, healthier, smarter, and he had come with heralds of recommendation letters from the FBI academy professors. The only thing Virgil has over him is two years of field experiences that never quite seem to be enough for him to feel secure. Thus, every time Roman disagreed with him, Virgil had bitten back like it was a personal attack. Roman had nearly been written up twice because of their arguments when Virgil got to walk away with barely even a glance.

Janus Ekans, the last member of the team, is approachable in the same way that a live grenade was approachable: he’s a press liaison who sweet-talked reporters and consoled victims and made children laugh with funny faces while the adults talked, and then he turned around threatened to cut Roman’s brakes if he hummed another bar of the catchy pop song that was stuck in his head.

((Jokes on him though, the catchy pop song that had been stuck in his head had been the key to the code for the fourth victim.))

Janus’s brand of kindness always came with strings attached, or a manipulative ulterior motive. Roman had learned a healthy dose of skepticism of early morning coffees and a casual offer of finishing a report for him; the result was not worth having to sit through another workplace conduct seminar for Janus.

But for all of the conflicts with them, Roman wants to be part of this team, wants to be part of this mission, wants to know them and be known by them. It’s just… hard. Roman’s used to the feeling of distance between him and other people, compared it idly to a glass wall that he couldn’t figure out how to break, but something about how Janus and Virgil toast shots at the bar after a case, or how Patton always knows what to say to someone, or how Logan always predicts accurately what route an escaping suspect will take—something about how Roman got shot on his last case with them and woke up to find that the rest of his team had been taking turns watching over him so he wouldn’t wake up alone and it made Roman burn with the desire to be better for them.

And well…since Roman hasn’t been any good at the talkingpart of it, he figured that being a stellar coworker might be a better angle to go for.

((Remus laughed so hard at the idea on a call last month while Roman was working through his physical therapy exercises that Roman had hung up on him.))

It’s been….an attempt. Roman hasn’t exactly had the time to focus on it with the current case going on.

The police had called for help after the very first body, which was rare. Logan had explained on the way to the crime scene that there had been a letter sent to the local police that contained a grid of numbers and a warning that someone would get hurt if the police didn’t solve it in twenty-four hours. An identical copy had appeared at the crime scene, which had linked the two events together in a way that local police didn’t get paid enough for.

Logan had told Roman to focus on photographing details of the scene, but Roman had frozen the moment that his viewfinder had focused on the note, his mind recognizing the pattern from the billions he’d created in middle school.

Roman and Virgil had both spoken the same address at the same time: Roman because he had solved the cipher in the letter after reading it the first time, and Virgil because he’d pulled a long piece of paper with the address written on it out of the victims strangled throat with a pair of tweezers.

The address had ended up being an empty building with a “For Lease” sign in the window a few blocks away, and their arrival had revealed nothing except for another puzzle with a pinned note asking if they were going to actually try this time.

Roman had solved the next one, before Janus had even finished reading it and they had arrived at the next location before the next kidnapped victim had even been aware she’d been kidnapped, dazed and drugged and barely able to tell them her name. The murderer hadn’t been there, and Logan had ordered an evacuation with a posted discrete perimeter, with the hope that they could catch the murderer when they returned to kill their victim, but all ten officers hadn’t reported seeing anyone.

Instead, three days after that, the next letter had been delivered to the precinct via mailman who had no clue where the envelope had come from and hadn’t thought too much of it before making his next delivery. The killer seemed to have taken Roman’s quick solving as an offense or a challenge considering each of the puzzles had gotten harder and harder with the deadlines steady as ever. Roman had run up the clock trying to solve them fast enough to get his team to the scene before the victims were too injured to be saved, forget getting them in time to catch the perpetrator. The last woman had coded in the ambulance on the way to the hospital from her sustained injuries and still they hadn’t gotten any more of an idea who this killer was.

Brown hair, blond hair, long and groomed, a buzz cut, bearded, scarred, mole, green eyes, brown eyes, black eyes—every person that Roman managed to save had a different, conflicting description to offer. Every abduction had happened conveniently on corners were there weren’t cameras and none of the victims seemed to have anything in common: they were mostly young women with two cases of being young men, of various ethnicities and social classes, from all seven nearby counties. Had a gun, had a bat, didn’t see anything before the attack, was drugged, was knocked unconscious—even the corpses that they had recovered didn’t have any more information: there was no sign of fighting back, and every method of death was arbitrarily chosen as if the killer was spinning a wheel to decide how the next victim was going to go out.

Virgil, Patton, and Janus’s working profile was: “knows the area well”, “knows the police and FBI really well”, “easily overlooked”, and “desperate to prove they’re smarter than everyone else”.

Any event hosting riddles, puzzles, or trivia had received a visit from the FBI, but most had never seen anyone sweep the games as outrageously as the profile suggested nor had they had any unhappy customers that had caused a scene as much as a disgruntled, embarrassed genius like this would have. The narrow list of names all had accountable alibis and the team had been shoved back to square one until the next puzzle had appeared.

((They shared a music type, and a fondness for certain poets. Roman wouldn’t have solved half of the puzzles as fast if he hadn’t dabbled into the same extracurriculars of photography and art appreciation. He’d babbled to Virgil about the history of jigsaw puzzles when he put together a fifty-piece puzzle with nineteen pieces missing just so he could use the picture to identify the wharf area where they would find the next victim.))

It had felt like, at first, Roman had been assigned a task that would help, something that he excelled at that would do something to alleviate the stress of the situation and help people. While he’d gone through the programs and passed his tests with flying colors, Roman is still the youngest on the FBI team and his experience with catching serial killers is a laughable compared to the others—but after the third puzzle where Roman’s bizarre wealth of knowledge and prompt, problem-solving processes came in clutch, Logan had assigned the puzzles as Roman’s main task and refocused Janus, Patton, and Virgil on profiling the killer and victims and the area.

Roman thinks there’s a bit more to it as well, but Logan hadn’t deigned to share it with him and Roman just can’t afford to devote any of his brain to things other than finding codes at this point.

He hadn’t actually been back to his apartment in a week. He’d slept in this very room with blankets Virgil had dragged from his car, eaten take-out food grabbed by Patton, forced to shower by Janus with his bag of emergency toiletries until Logan had made the trip to Roman’s to pick up new clothes for his extended stay.

Roman was certain there were rules against all of this, policies and whatnot for the amount of overtime he was pulling and the clearly unhealthy sleep schedule and eating regime, but every time he closed his eyes, he remembered that first crime scene and the bulge of paper being delicately pulled from the strangled throat of a dead woman who deserved better and—

Even if it means his bed is gathering dust, even if he can’t remember what he last watched on TV, even if it means that he’ll been able to charge rent to the new life forms growing out of his fridge when this is over. He’d give up everything just to make sure that no other victims died without hope of being saved. All nine of the people he hadn’t gotten to save in time deserved at least to have their killer stopped.

That being said, the only member of his team keeping pace with his puzzle solving work still is Logan: Patton had run to the lab to check on the results of fingerprints (there hadn’t been any on the letters before, but Patton is an optimist at heart); Janus went to talk to one of the victims family after a call stating they thought they remembered something from the night before the victim went missing, and Virgil had tried his hardest for the first three hours before Roman had to break it to him for the nth time that Roman had already tried the codebreaking technique he was suggesting. He’s nearly jittery with the eager to have something to punch by now.

Logan is sitting primly in the seat across from Roman, his dark eyes tracing the calligraphy of the words looking for patterns that Roman hasn’t already tracked down and tried.

The digital clock at the head of the table is steadily counting down, and every time Roman blinks he sees the bloodied crime scene again: the lifeless eyes, the clinically broken bones, the bruises and the gashes and he thinks of the new missing girl who might be suffering the same fate if Roman doesn’t figure this out.

"There's thicker ink on the word Capital," Logan says, drawing Roman’s attention back to the first page of the letter. Roman had noted it briefly on his fourth review, even written down a list of capitals in the states and used the date of their establishments, their "year of creation" to identify words in the letter but nothing had come of it. Roman had moved off from it hours ago hoping that something else in the letter would circle back to it with more directions on what it meant.

"Let’s return to the concept that it refers to the capital letters," Logan says.

"Which spell out nothing, forward or backward or anagrammed," Virgil says from his chair in the corner towards the back of the room where he’d insisted he was sitting to get a better look at the “whole picture.”

"And we tried all possible Caesar shifts?” Logan says.

"I’ve run them through every Caesar shift 1 through 26. Then I tried the established years of all capitals in the States." Roman says combing through his papers to find his work. "It came up with nothing. So, I tossed them through a Trimethius Tableau, which also got me nothing, so then I tried the Trimethius Tableau with a key word, and uhm…”

Roman trails off as he scrambles through the stack of papers next to him and then gives up and offers the entire stack to Logan.

“You tried it with the word Capital?” Logan says.

“I tried it with every word that appears in the letter,” Roman says. “I didn’t bother writing down half of them so please don’t ask for proof. When that didn’t work, I tried all the Capitals from the entire world and then I tried the missing woman’s name first and last, the killers self-proclaimed name, and the spelled-out number of all our individual ages including the victim’s and the age range that the profile suggests for the killer and Sherlock Holmes. Nothing.”

Logan accepts the papers to analyze it himself or double check the numbers and letters, which Roman would find offensive if he had the energy to feel anything other than dread and defeat. Theres a girl’s life on the line and Roman’s matched wits with a piece of paper and failed at the only thing he’s been good at recently. The clock hits hour twenty-two on the killer’s timetable and Roman feels a burn in his eyes as he rubs them so hard he witnesses undiscovered colors on the back of his eyelids.

“Patton just texted,” Virgil said, waving his phone. “The ink is Speedball India Ink which you can get at any art supply but it’s for those fancy calligraphy pens. The techs think the nib was a… Bruase Steno, whatever the fuck that means.”

“Beginner’s nib,” Roman says, tiredly. “It holds a lot of ink in it, pretty sturdy, and good for downstrokes. Allows for a bigger font size than some others.”

“Is there anything you don’t know about?” Virgil says blandly. “He also says the paper from one of those Canson Mix Media sketchbooks you can buy at basically any retail store. I doubt by now that has any bearing on anything, but I figured I pass it along.”

Logan and Roman both nod to show they heard it. Roman predicted as much in his notes, although he’d been more of the idea the nib was a Nikko G based on the size of the font. It’s been a while since he had the time to work on his calligraphy, since Remus “borrowed” his pen set last year.

“I checked for a Rail Fence and a Playfair," Roman says. “Tried both Horizontal and Vertical Two-Squares.”

“I mapped out all of the ‘I’s in the letter to see if they spelled out something in dot-only morse code,” Virgil says.

“Did they?” Logan asks with the tone of a very tired parent.

“No, but you’re welcome that I at least tried it.”

Roman tunes out Logan’s responding sigh-and-lecture bit. There’s a girl missing probably already fighting for her life against injuries that had killed ten others before. Roman could be the only spot of hope for her, and he’s staring at the word ‘Mélange’, wondering if “year of creation” refers to the year that the word first came to use.

Janus had sniffed distastefully at the letter when he’d first read it, claiming that the murderer’s vocabulary was just another attempt to show them that he was smarter than all of them. Janus, who’d studied language profiling and had two papers published on the topic, had begrudgingly affirmed that all the words were being used in a sensible way.

Roman twirls his pen between his fingers reading over his notes again.

He’d been so sure on his second read of the letter that Sherlock Holmes was going to be part of the answer. “Your year of creation” had sounded so much like a bid for the year of publication, which had meant he only needed to figure out what media form it was based on. “From Capitals to Rome” hadn’t spurred anything exciting in his memory: he didn’t recall any of Author Canon Doyle’s original writings putting Holmes in Rome, although he’d jolted down a few books he knew of by other authors, and none of the TV show or movies had been filmed in the iconic city.

If it meant the distance between a capital and Rome, well, London was the only place that Roman was confident in writing down, but 1873km didn’t even match up with any other years and certainly nothing further in the letter that would give an address.

But then Rome could refer to a Caesar Cipher, like Logan had said. Which had inspired a whole other rabbit hole of possibilities and Roman had fallen down it with much less fun than Alice.

Why use words that no one else does conversationally? Roman, as a certified genius, already struggles with having those around him keep up with a conversation so throwing in uncommon words was a waste of breath or, in this case, paper. So why is their killer risking the message of the letter not being understood? Is it really just to prove that this mystery killer was smarter than them? Or is the meaning of the letter as of little value to the killer as the lives of the victims they were snuffing out?

Roman had studied killers with a superiority complex. Most of them could have continued killing for decades and never been caught if they hadn’t felt compelled to have others be aware of how much smarter they were.

But then Roman stares at this letter talking about Sherlock Holmes and he doesn’t see someone who was overconfident and riding the high of the chase. They’re creative and clever enough that each of his letters are multitasking: sharing (supposedly inconsequential) knowledge about himself as well as acting as a code to lead them to where the missing girl is. But Roman’s decently sure that Logan’s already figured that one out. After all, how much help is the fact that the killer likes Sherlock Holmes going to be in finding out their real identity?

It isn’t Roman’s task to profile the serial killer. It’s not his problem and it shouldn’t be his worry and Roman doesn’t have the time to focus on the undertone of loneliness and isolation when there’s a girl’s life on the line.

“I see things here are going admirably,” Janus says as he flounces into the room. He’s dressed in black dress pants and a pale-yellow button down that looks tasteful and elegant. His usual grace accompanies his movements as he drops into a vacant chair and helps himself to a coffee cup that someone left on the table hours ago. He has a ring on his fourth finger, although he’d confessed in a drunken stupor after their first case that he’d never even kissed a prospective partner. ((And then the following day Janus had cornered Roman in the station bathroom and told him that if he told anyone about that Roman’s body would never be recovered, but whatever. Drama Queen.))

“Have you cracked the code yet? Solved all our problems?” Janus asks.

“Oh, yes,” Virgil answers him. “We were waiting for you to get back in order to figure out world hunger, though.”

“Eat the Rich,” the man wearing a $900 suit says without a trace of hesitation.

“Did the victim’s sister give you anything?” Logan asks, pushing away Roman’s stack of failed attempts.

Janus clicks his tongue. “I’m going to assume you remember that the sister told us previously that she’d been communicating to her sister via SnapChat the night she disappeared. She said that she saw someone in the background of the pictures that she didn’t think too much of it at the time, but now she’s wondering if it was our killer stalking his victim through the store. I made a pit stop to the grocery store and took another look through their footage, and found the person in question—black hoodie, black face mask—but it was just another shopper. According to timestamps, he checked out before our victim and went straight to his car and left.”

“Presumably to go home,” Virgil extrapolates, extremely helpfully.

“And we suspect that the killer grabbed her before she got to her car,” Logan hums affirmatively. Which Roman guessed was about as close as he got to announcing his approval.

Janus picks up one of Roman’s papers and scans it with faked interest. “So? How is Encyclopedia Brown doing? Has he come up for air in the past hour?”

“Do you even know what an encyclopedia is?” Roman asks, distractedly.

“Of course,” Janus says. “I found reading them to be quite riveting in my childhood. Didn’t you?”

“I was more of a phonebook, yellow pages type of kid,” Roman says.

“What’s a phone book?” Virgil cuts in.

“It’s a phone directory with the phone numbers of everyone in a certain area. The yellow pages were reserved for businesses, listed by category rather than alphabetical. Why don’t you know that?” Logan says. Then he frowned and turned back to Roman. “Why were you reading those as a child?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, old man.”

"I turned 49 this year, Roman," Logan says blandly.

Roman had a really good response to that, he did. Something snippety about how Logan acted like a professor double his age, or asking how his birthday party of birdwatchers went, or if he's picked out an adult day care he wants to be sent to once he reaches the big five-oh. Just for the sick pleasure of seeing Logan physically leave the room to go print out the official papers to fire Roman on the spot.

"What’s going on at 15 Maple Street?"

Virgil startles like a cat, nearly flipping out of his chair at the voice right behind him.

Remus—dressed in a biker jacket, spiked boots, and gunmetal piercings—grins with all his teeth unflinching even when Virgil’s fist brushes by his cheek in an aborted attempt at throat-punching Roman's twin brother.

“Is it some kind of orgy? Y’all gonna invite me?” he asks, raising a Slurpee cup to his mouth and taking a sip.

“Who the fuck?!” Virgil says, snapping his neck to look at Roman as if he thought Roman had gotten up put on a fake mustache and then tried to jump scare him. “Wh-wha…?”

When they were younger, Roman had described Remus as his funhouse mirror reflection: they shared the same nose, the same face structure, the same dark brown eyes and the same untamable brown hair; but where their appearances had been identical inverses of each other—Remus’s cowlick rolled to the left and Roman’s went to the right—their personalities had a drastic split. Remus is also a certified genius, same as Roman, but where Roman had gotten banned from the local escape rooms for solving them in under five minutes, Remus had gotten banned from them for brute forcing answers until something clicked.

If Remus had to break something to get the answer, he was having fun. Replay-ability was never a thought in his mind growing up and turned their childhood home’s game closet into a graveyard. He talked faster than he thought, often blurting out answers or questions or impulsive thoughts before someone else had finished talking.

Nine-year-old Roman had loathed most of these things about Remus, but it had only taken a year for Roman to realize that in their small town, Remus was the only one who could possibly keep up with his wits. Remus had been the one to tell him to take up the codebreaking classes hosted by an ex-FBI agent who had ended up being so impressed with Roman that the man had sponsored him through all his subsequent courses and written him three recommendation letters personally to Logan to get him his current job.

The job had taken Roman nine states away, but Remus and him had kept near weekly calls where Remus offered him feedback on Roman’s newest attempt at writing a novel, and Roman play tested the clues for puzzles in Remus’s escape room games.

Near weekly had turned into a stretch of silence though, when cases came up. Remus had just told him to call him whenever the cases were over instead of stressing over finding time to talk. His schedule was always more flexible.

But it shouldn’t have been flexible enough for Remus to be standing in the FBI headquarters.

“Remus,” Roman says, standing before Virgil decides to enact his shapeshifting alien emergency plan. “What are you doing here?”

“Learn to pick up your phone sometime, asshole,” Remus says, flicking his neon yellow visitor badge to the left of Virgil’s body for everyone to see. “If I had known that you were going to leave me at an airport for three fucking hours, I would have just canceled my flight and spent my vacation mapping out the sewers back home.”

“Vacation?” Roman repeats. “OH FUCK! What day is it?!”

Roman dives for his phone, only realizing when he frantically taps the screen that it’s dead and probably has been dead for a while. Remus rolls his eyes flicking a lazy salute at Logan and Janus and welcoming himself into the room.

“Name’s Remus,” Remus says, “I’m this dipshit’s twin brother. Currently single, but I charge five for a hand job if you want one.”

“Charming,” Janus says, running a finger around the rim off his coffee cup.

“You mentioned Maple Street.” Logan says. “Ignoring that you are not supposed to be in here and this is confidential work, where did you come up with that?”

"I mean, I assumed it’s a Maple Street," Remus says. "Every state has a Maple Street, right? I stopped doing the conversion at the P."

“Elaborate.”

“Buy me dinner first, Daddy,” Remus says and Janus chokes on his coffee so hard it almost comes out of his nose and Roman can feel his employee termination paperwork being drafted up mentally in Logan’s mind.

Still Remus shrugs, waves a hand towards the projector, and obliges. “The letter is about Sherlock Holmes, right? Its pretentious as all shit so the writer is only going to care about the original Arthor Canon Doyle characterizations. “The year of your creation” is a snob’s way of saying publishing date. So, you’re looking for a Sherlock Holmes book and you’re going to care about the year it originally came out. Still with me? I can walk you back if you got lost, old timer.”

“Remus,” Roman says, which sounds remarkably like please shut up before you get me fired.

“Damn, you got boring in FBI school. Fine. You care about ciphers, right? There’s only four from the original books that actually appear, even though Holmes is said to be a gifted codebreaker. This ain’t the Dancing Man code, and it’s not the flashing lights from Red Circle. Your other two options are The Book Code from Valley of Fear in which you’d be fucked six ways to Saturday with an unlubed corkscrew and not in a way that you’d enjoy or—”

Virgil makes a sharp disgusted noise form the back of the room, and Remus grins with satisfaction at getting a reaction out of him. He tilts his head back to look the agents, mouth open to make things as bad as he can.

“Wait! Gloria Scott,” Roman says catching on to what he did. “Fuck! You’re right! It’s Gloria Scott. But not whole words. Did you go by letters?”

Remus tsks and swirls his drink. “You’re a genius, Ro. You tell me.”

“That’s why it says to go ‘From the Capitals!’”

“Tell me you didn’t think it meant actual capitals. Did you list them all out? I’m disowning you.”

“Get bent,” Roman says on instinct as he scribbles out the letters of importance.

“Get laid.”

“I have. Jealous? And then a Caesar with 1-8-9-3?”

“Did you know that off the top of your head? Fucking nerd.”

“That’s an E, V, I—”

“It’s faster to start it from the end,” Remus sings.

“Did they screw up on the eighth sentence or am I doing math wrong?”

“I told you go from the end.”

“I don’t like going backwards!”

“It’s already backwards, bitch.”

“Dick.”

“Geek. You used to be good at this. Why is it taking you so long?”

“Shut up. Did you get Mom gaudy heels she wanted for her birthday?”

“The ones with the cat faces on them? Fuck no! I got her a candle like I do every year.”

“Son of the year award.”

“They were over a hundred fucking dollars! —That’s an F, dumbass, not a G.— And I can gift her a whole litter of cats for that amount!”

“Agreed. I’ll get the accessories; you get the cats?”

“Deal. I want naming rights.”

“PG-13 rated at the max. Mom will kill us otherwise. So, it was a mistake on the eighth sentence.”

“Yeah! A goddamn embarrassment. This is already a cringe ass attempt to seem good at encoding—”

A humming uhhhh? cuts through the rest of Remus’s statement and Roman is relieved to see Remus also does a mental reset as he remembers where they are. Namely, standing in the conference room in the FBI headquarters shooting comments back and forth at each other in front of Roman’s team.

Virgil is staring at both of them, head on a swivel that leaves him looking hopelessly horrified, as if he just watched them give birth. The last time Roman saw Virgil look so nauseated, he’d gotten a major concussion after being jumped by three gang members in the back of warehouse they had thought a bioterrorist was renting.

There had been a bubbling excitement in Roman’s chest that felt right in the way that all his conversations with Remus always feel so right. He didn’t have to slow down or reword or even watch his wording because it was Remus and Remus always knew exactly how to take anything Roman said. Twin Telepathy and all that.

But the moment he sees the utter bafflement on Logan and Janus’s faces that part of him shrivels up and dies, an embarrassed, awful death.

Virgil, however, finds his voice before Roman can apologize. “Hardy Boys! Wanna explain that in English? Where are you getting Maple Street from?”

“Fifteen Maple Street,” Roman corrects. “Come to Fifteen Maple Street, Detective.”

“Do-tective,” Remus says. “I’ve met kids with better spelling!”

Roman doesn’t outright elbow him in the side but it’s a close thing. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, I know where that is. Its two blocks from my—”

“Is the Gloria Scott referring to The Adventures of the Gloria Scott?” Janus cuts him off sharply and Roman blinks. Remus frowns and takes another sip of his Slurpee, until the resulting slorpppp nearly drowns out Roman’s response if Roman hadn’t reached out and snapped it out of his hand.

“Yeah,” Roman says. “Published in 1893. It’s the short story where Holmes claims to have first realized that his deduction hobby could be used professionally. The code in it—spoilers—is that every third word is taken and spells out its own sentence. But in this case ‘From Capitals’ is referring to the third word of the sentence instead of every third word. Then if you take the first letter of each of the word and put it in a Caesar shift, with the first one being a one-shift, the second letter being an eight-shift, then nine-shift, then three, then back to one….”

Roman holds up the paper where he wrote down the final product. “And then you read it backwards.”

The Conference room is slightly too quiet for Roman’s taste, but his hands are shaking with nerves he didn’t know he had. The clock in the corner still reads an hour and thirty minutes and Roman feels like he’s taken his first actual breath for the first time in years.

"Did you do that in your head?" Logan says, looking at Remus. "As you walked in here?"

“Well, not really,” Remus says, casually swinging his badge around one of his fingers. “I’m not wearing my glasses, so I didn’t see it until I got halfway across the floor. And I had to look up the year of publish for it because I’m not the type of freak who knows years like that.”

Roman flips him the bird under the table where Logan won’t see it.

"Holy shit,” Virgil says. “You both are fucking insane. Actually, fucking insane. How did you even think to do that?”

Remus laughs. "That’s just a party trick. We used more advanced ciphers when selling test answers in seventh grade."

"There was no "we" in that!" Roman says quickly. "I was not involved in that!"

Remus glances at the papers next to Virgil raising an eyebrow at the penmanship. "Did you try to map out the dots over the I's like it’s a dot only morse code? That’s so cute!"

Virgil crumples his paper into a ball and throws it across the room. "Can I punch him for real this time? I’m going to punch him."

Roman doesn’t bother explain that comments like that just fuel Remus on. The bullies in their small town had learned to leave both of them alone, because Remus laughed when they broke his arm. Remus liked the sharp taste of pain and the metallic smell of blood and the way that his vision blurred and blacked out.

Instead, Roman reaches for his jacket. “Come on. There’s still two hours on the clock. We can beat rush out traffic and make it there in ten minutes!”

“No,” Logan says and Roman mentally stumbles over a chair and then down a flight of stairs. “I want you to stay here. If for some reason this location ends up being wrong, I want you and your brother both to be here already looking for another answer. Do not argue with me on this.”

Roman’s voice dies a little in his throat, shriveling up and itching like a cough that he doesn’t want to admit to having. Logan doesn’t even grace him with an actual full glance, as if Roman’s compliance is expected just as much as his acceptance. Janus and Virgil share a look that Roman can’t quite read, although from the pursing of Virgil’s lips something about Logan’s decision doesn’t sit right with him.

Janus, however, looks relieved before he can school his features into a neutral expression.

“I’m certain this is the location,” Roman says tentatively. “Sir.”

“I do not like placing all of my figurative eggs in one figurative basket,” Logan says, already halfway out the door. “Safety is my priority. Virgil, Janus: with me.”

Both of the other two agents scramble after Logan; Virgil not even bothering to put his jacket back on as he bolts out the door and Janus clicking his tongue in that way that speaks of his loathing for being told what to do.

Roman drops his coat back on the chair and flops back down. Remus frowns at the doors for a second longer, but Roman can’t imagine what he’s thinking—or if it’s anything different from what Roman himself has already thought about this FBI gig.

Roman can appreciate how Logan is looking at the bigger picture, covering all his bases, leaving little room for the killer to add to their kill count, but at the end of the day those words still sound a lot more like “You’re still not good enough, Roman, and I’m still considering if you deserve a place with this team.”

***

“You’re seriously still not going to tell him?” Virgil hisses as soon as the elevator doors close. “He deserves to know at this point! We’re seven incidents into this!”

“There’s actually only been six that can’t simple coincidence,” Janus corrects, even though that is not the fucking point that Virgil meant and he knows it. Six is still Six-Too-Fucking-Many and the fact that Janus is even making the argument has Virgil’s skin crawling. He meets Virgil’s eyes in the reflection of the stainless-steel elevator wall and Virgil sneers at him while Janus raises an elegant middle finger.

Logan, although he must have seen it, doesn’t bother to reprimand either of them. He stares at the ticking digital screen detailing the floors as they race towards the garage and keeps his face in a stern neutral expression. Virgil isn’t trained in micro expressions, so the fact that he notices the crease in the corner of Logan’s lip is probably very telling for how stressed he is about all of this.

“Call Patton. I want him to meet us at the location with whatever police he has contact with. No sirens. If this killer is there, I don’t want to alert him anymore than we already have.”

“You’re changing the topic,” Virgil says. “Sir.”

“Agent Storm. As of right now, his best use is solving the puzzles where we can keep an eye on him. He doesn’t need to know; it will only cause him to panic, and we cannot afford that at this stage. He’s too… instrumental.”

Instrumental. Virgil almost laughs at Logan’s fucking audacity. Instrumental.

“Are you going to tell his brother?” Janus says, boredly, scrolling through his phone for Patton’s number. “Twin brother. Did anyone know he was a twin? I didn’t and I believe I’m offended.”

Virgil did know. Although knowing is an entirely different beast from seeing Roman’s face with a mustache and his body with a grunge aesthetic and his voice with a proficiency for the absolute worse strings of words in the human language. He almost looked like Roman-in-a-Halloween-Costume, expect for the part where he opened his mouth. But the worst part of it was how when Remus and Roman had been standing next to each other shooting back and forth completely at ease, Virgil had felt as though he was seeing doubles and neither version of his friend was the right one.

Something about Roman so easily relaxed into the conversation, a lightness to his words, a brightness to his eyes—something about how Roman looked comfortable as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders when his twin had shown up….

It threw him off and Virgil doesn’t think he’s found his balance again yet. And the whole “Unspoken Agreement” was not helping matters at-fucking-all.

“I want a background check on him, emphasis on his whereabouts in the past three weeks. If he’s not involved, then I’ll consider reading him in. Although, there’s a high probability he already suspects it,” Logan says. “You were not subtle about cutting Roman off at all.”

Janus feigns an offended scoff, as he puts his phone to his ear and the line starts ringing. “I didn’t see you saying anything.”

Virgil digs his nails into the strap of his bag. “If Roman were a civilian, you wouldn’t be treating him like this. You know you wouldn’t. You would have read him in and—”

“Virgil,” Logan says sharply.

“How long are you going to keep punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault?!”

Logan’s hand snaps out and he knocks the safety switch into activation. The elevator jerks to a stop so suddenly that Janus fumbles his phone, and Virgil has to grab the railing to keep himself steady. When he looks up again Logan’s eyes are trained on him with a fury that Virgil’s never seen before.

Still, he forces himself to raise his chin in defiance, meeting that gaze head on even with his brain shrieking at him to backdown.

“Do not accuse me of confusing the safety of my agents for a petty grudge,” Logan says. “I will have your badge, Virgil. My reluctance to tell him comes from the need to have our smartest agent focused on these deranged puzzles instead of whether or not the rest of us are capable of doing out jobs, not from my irritation over being blackmailed into taking him onto my team. He will do his job, and you will do yours and when this is over, I will personally debrief him. Am I clear?”

Virgil’s jaw creaks from how tightly he’s clenching his jaw, but he nods.

For a second, barely a blink, Logan’s expression softens again. “Thank you, Virgil, for being concerned about him. I know you don’t appreciate withholding information from your teammates.”

It’s hard to feel like he’s doing anything good when they all saw how Roman’s face dropped earlier. Logan turns back to the doors and flips the safety switch again, allowing the elevator to continue its descent. Virgil lets out the quietest breath he can manage, but based on Janus’s uneasy glance back at him, it wasn’t quiet enough.

“Well! I guess that means that Roman solved the letter!” Patton’s voice chirps from the phone in Janus’s hand.

“Yes,” Logan says loud enough for Patton to hear him. “Janus will fill you in.”

“Aye-Aye Captain!”

The elevator dings and the mechanical voice reads out the basement floor, but Logan doesn’t wait for it to finish speaking. He’s already shoving his way out of the elevator to the BMW registered to their team, with all the confidence and authority of someone who would leave them both behind if Virgil and Janus didn’t rush after him.

Virgil turns to Janus, but Janus is greeting Patton with his particular brand of waspish backhanded compliments that Patton likes to laugh at. He pretends he doesn’t see Virgil’s look at all, stubbornly facing forward marching after Logan. His voice bounces off the underground parking lot concrete, updating their other senior agent on the details and plan and the request for a background check as if Virgil’s very real concerns about Roman was just another instance of him blowing the situation out of proportion. Virgil lets out a shaky breath as the elevator doors roll close behind him.

“He can handle it. He’s Roman. Of course, he can handle it,” he repeats as a mantra and hitches his bag over his shoulder.

Despite that, Virgil sends a soft, silent prayer to whatever might be out there watching, that they aren’t running into as much of a trap as it feels like they are.

***

When the call comes Roman nearly lunges across the table to accept it.

Remus is, per usual, a very interesting and ambitious conversation partner: he does not and has not ever required an actual person to respond to him. Roman tested it once when they were younger and he wanted to have a whole ten minutes of silence—put a hoodie over a pile of clothes while Remus is speed running a video game, gradually stop answering with more than a few hums, and then dip out. It had been hours later when Remus woke him by jumping on his bed in revenge.

That’s not to say that Roman isn’t thrilled to talk with him! But Roman is the type of person who would rather catch up with his brother’s endless thrilling tales of research and experimentation in the comfort of his own home, take out on the coffee table and a stream of true crime YouTube episodes on his TV in the background. Roman had been excited to ask him about where he’d gotten his inspirations for his 1920’s speakeasy parlor escape room because Remus had never really dipped into history themes when he could have haunted houses and murder movies instead.

The oppressive atmosphere in the FBI headquarters, with empty conference room chairs, stacks of papers to recycled, and a projector showing the ramblings of serial killer, paled in comparison to the thought of Roman’s crappy couch and greasy pizza from across town.

And now small part of Roman is worried that maybe they did miss something in the letter. As certain as he is about this, there is a part of him that keeps whispering Logan’s right to hold you back, you failed, you were helpless until Remus showed up—

So, when the call comes, Roman is nearly vaulting the table to answer it via the conference call.

“You would have told me just to shut up!” Remus says with no real heat.

Roman doesn’t bother responding to him. He’s sure that Remus already knows what Roman was thinking anyway; it wasn’t like Remus was a fan of a conference rooms after the amount of time he spent in them with Mom and Dad on either side of him as his teachers tried to explain that just because Remus was bored out of his mind in their classes, it didn’t mean he had the right to start dismantling desks or doodling on the walls with sharpies or designing paper airplanes with precision that most aviators couldn’t claim.

“Roman Sanders, speaking,” Roman says, as soon as he hits the answer button. “Remus is in the room.”

“Are you or your brother familiar with one Andy Clupeidae?” Logan’s voice says.

“Uh,” Roman glances towards Remus but he also just shrugs chewing on his straw. “Not that I’m aware of, sir. Would you like me to start a background search on them?”

“Not necessary, I already have Janus on it.”

“Weird ass fucking last name,” Remus comments. “I would have remembered it. What’s their deal? Or are you on Tinder? If he’s got a picture of him holding a fish up, you can guarantee that he’s been lying about length sizes for a whi—”

“It’s the name of a man that we just apprehended in the middle of strangling the victim,” Logan says, dry tone scathing even through the phone speaker. Remus has the rare decency to cringe slightly. “I trust that you can keep that information to yourself, Remus.”

“We got him?” Roman says, hope swelling in his chest like a balloon throttling his voice box. “Like—we actually caught him? Red handed and everything?!”

“We have a suspect in custody,” Logan says. “There are…a few things that don’t settle correctly into the profile. But when we arrived, he was already inside the building, hands on the throat of the victim, and he had in his possession a letter that contains what appears to be the next puzzle for you to solve. The victim is already on the way to the hospital with Janus on standby for when she regains lucidity. Patton will be taking the letter to the labs, and while Virgil and I get ready for the interrogation.”

Roman swears the air tastes ridiculously sweet, too sweet, in a way that’s making it hard to breathe. Remus is staring at him worriedly, but all Roman can think is we did it, we got him, we stopped him.

“There are still several things that need to happen before we can declare this case closed,” Logan warns. “I’ll see you both in half an hour.”

Roman nods although Logan definitely can’t see him. He’d probably be embarrassed if Logan could see him and his stupid dopey grin.

“And Roman? Remus? …you both did a good job.”

Roman doesn’t even hear the telltale click of the call ending. He’s too busy covering his mouth and trying not to scream at the top of his lung. Pure relief washes through him, rushing through his trembling fingers and weak knees until he’s nearly lightheaded with elation.

“Are you okay?” Remus asks steadying Roman with a hand on his arm. “Are you going to orgasm right now?”

“Shut up,” Roman says with half the amount of annoyance he means. He gets a grip of a nearby chair to ground himself and takes a deep breath to refocus. The hope in his chest tastes like a victory, like he’s done something great, even though all he’s done is his job.

Remus is still staring at him suspiciously and no amount of Roman’s smile is reassuring him apparently. His eyes are lined with that brand of eyeliner that he’s been using since they were tweens, making his hickory eyes even darker than usual, and more worried than he’s ever been. He makes one suspicious sweeping look around the room, as if checking for someone else despite the fact it’s been just the two of them for a while now, then he leans in to say something.

But before he can get it out, the conference phone rings again.

“Hardy Boys!” Virgil’s voice calls through the speaker, a little distorted. Roman grimaces at it, tapping his pen on the table a few times.

“Hey, Dark and Stormy,” Roman says, “Heard you caught the guy!”

“Is there anything you don’t know about?” Virgil says blandly.

“Well, I was going to congratulate you, and offer to buy drinks, but if you’re going to be an asshole about it….” Roman says.

Virgil might have responded but there’s a crackling on the line that cuts over whatever thing he’s going to say. Remus fake-gags out of the corner of Roman’s eye.

“Whatever,” Roman says. “Logan called just a minute ago and told me the news.”

“He also says—you’re welcome—to go home—”

“What the fuck type of phone service do you have?” Remus asks. “Dial up? How do you have any type of phone sex with this shit going on?”

“—I’m going to punch him."

Remus grins delightedly. “We’re gonna need to decide a safe word—”

Roman immediately bats the back of his head and Remus yelps, ducking away from the receiver and rubbing the spot that Roman hit with a pout. Roman sends him scowl, and Remus sticks his tongue out and mouths something that looks like its was a joke, dickwad! And Roman returns it with an appropriate middle finger.

“Hardy Boys!” Virgil’s voice says again, and Roman drums his pen on the table.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry about Remus. Please don’t complain to HR again. I don’t want to be written up for this one—”

Remus shoves Roman out of the way to get closer to the speaker again. “Who cares about that! Did Lead Agent DILF actually say it’s cool if Roman and I cut out of here? Cause if so, go ahead and tell him to approve Roman for a week vacation, too, because if you don’t, you’ll have to file for kidnapping. I have a list of places I’m going to make Roman take me to and it requires a minimum of three days off.”

“Remus!” Roman says. “You can’t just—"

“Someone needs to get this guy a fucking hobby— you’re welcome—to go home—”

“Alright, bye, Virgin!” Remus shouts and hits the end call button. He throws most of his weight back in the chair, stretching out his spine and arms in a wild chaotic movement that Roman couldn’t help but fondly roll his eyes at. He’s sure that the Virgin comment will come up again, likely in the form of a summons to the HR to talk about workplace harassment, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t Roman who said it, but all in all he can’t really be all that worried about it at the moment.

Roman sighs out, rubbing his aching neck.

“That was weird right?” Roman says. “You thought that was weird, too?”

Remus yawns so loud that his jaw cracks. “Who cares? I want pizza on your dime, and shitty ghost hunter videos on your TV. Your job is boring as fuck! Come on, I’ll drive! You can micronap in the passenger seat.”

“With you at the wheel? No chance,” Roman says, but he fishes his keys from his jacket and tosses them towards Remus anyway. Remus grins with all his teeth, the exact way that everyone would expect someone who frames all of their speeding tickets to smile. Roman yawns and waves for Remus to follow him towards the office desks where Roman’s stuff would be, pausing only long enough to switch off the projector and the clock and the lights.

Admittedly Roman doesn’t remember a lot of what happens after that. The adrenaline crash comes down pretty hard on him and the exhaustion swirls around him, the moment they get to the lobby and Remus chats up the receptionist and returns his visitor’s badge and compliments her hair. Roman focuses more on keeping his duffle over his shoulder and standing upright as this goes on.

He didn’t recall Logan bringing him all that much stuff from his apartment: he’d scribbled out a list of clothes that he liked and tried his best not to cringe too much at the idea of his superior officer seeing his uncleaned apartment.

Even when Remus was coming over, Roman made an effort to take out the trash and have the sheets in his guest room cleaned and fill the pantry with healthier snacks. Roman had put off doing the cleaning for a few days after he and Remus had confirmed the date, but then the case had come up and Roman had literally forgotten what month it was.

But he wasn’t too concerned with Remus making fun of him. The way that Remus was already side eyeing him and chatting away about the details of their hometown and his trip to visit Mom and Dad last weekend was telling Roman that Remus guessed just how tired Roman was at the moment.

The drive is a blur at best. As far as Roman remembers Remus obeyed the laws and parked legally. They argued over music for a few minutes, and then argued over if Remus could have made a light that he stopped for because Roman yelled at him. Then, on the way into Roman’s apartment building their argument turns into which YouTube ghost hunter series to watch while they ate dinner.

“Race ya!” Remus shouts, as he hits the platform for Roman’s level.

“Remus!” Roman hisses, “Wait, Remus!” He slings his bag over his shoulder and rushes the last few steps and catches the door before it closes but by then Remus is already charging down the hall.

“Remus people can hear into the hallway! Remus!”

“You’re just mad because you owe me ice cream now!” Remus calls and then proceeds to knock on Roman’s door several times over as if Roman is going to magically open it from the other side when he’s slowly trudging his way over.

“What was the point of running all the way down here just to have to wait for me to open the door?” Roman huffs. “You have a key anyway!”

“Had a key,” Remus shrugs, pressing as close as physically possible to Roman as he jiggles his key through the lock until it relents. “I don’t anymore!”

Roman lets Remus push through the door the moment it’s open, rolling his eyes. “Down a sewer grate, off the metro platform, confiscated by the TSA, or forgot it in that dumpster fire you call an apartment?”

“Got knocked overboard on a ferry ride I took a couple months ago! Right along with my house key and my mailbox key. The process to get a new one of both of those was a bitch and a half, by the way. Would not recommend.”

"Wait," Roman says, flicking on the lights to his apartment. It feels a bit like defeat doing it after Remus has made himself at home on the couch with his disgusting shoes up on Roman’s upholstery. But Roman finds himself a bit too tired to care about all the cleaning he has to do. "If you lost the keys to my apartment, what did you do with your bag? I know you didn’t come here empty handed— Please tell me you didn’t pick the locks; I have to pay out of pocket for those repairs."

But even as he says it Roman frowns at the lock. There are signs of tampering: a few scratches on the outside cylinder casing of the deadbolt that are too thick to be from Roman’s own key and exhaustion. But Remus almost sounds surprised by the idea, as if this was the first time, he’d ever thought of breaking into a place he may or may not have half permission to be in and even if it weren’t, Roman’s only mostly whining about the repairs because Remus’s lockpicking skills have been at a master level since they were in middle school.

"I just stood outside your place and hit the buzzers until someone just opened the door,” Remus says stretching out on the couch and cracking his neck with a poppoppop. “And then when I got to your apartment, I just knocked, and your wacko roommate let me in."

Roman laughs sardonically as he closes the door behind himself and tosses his bag at the shoe rack he needs to reorganize later. He’s untying his laces when he realizes that Remus hasn’t congratulated himself on his witty joke and told him the actual truth about how he got in. He glances up at his twin and catches the minimal silhouette of Remus plucking at something from Roman’s mess of a coffee table.

"Remus….I don’t have a roommate."

"Well, she wasn’t your fucking girlfriend, you gay fuck," Remus says. “Hey, what are you doing with one of these? You always said that you hated the way your recorded voice sounds.”

“Huh?”

In response Remus waves whatever it was that he picked up and experimentally clicks a button on the side of it.

“—I’m going to punch him,” Virgil’s unmistakable voice crackles out into the otherwise silent apartment.

Remus’s head snaps to the side looking at the recording in his hand with wild eyes and he scrambles back to his feet. Roman’s heart is pounding in his throat, his blood is rushing in his ears, and a whole lot of things are making sense in a way that Roman really, really did not like them making sense.

“Wha….What did you say that my roommate looked like?” Roman says. “Remus, what did she look like?”

"I don’t know! I wasn’t paying attention! I was pissed off that I had to pay for an uber and demanded to know where you were! She said you were at work and that you would be back soon. I tossed my bag in here and nearly knocked over the laundry she was folding…. My bag’s gone. Fuck, that had my favorite jeans in there. And my Switch!”

“Remus,” Roman says, trying to swallow back the panic in his throat.

“She was wearing your sweatpants,” he says. “Motherfucker, she was wearing your sweatpants and eating one of those personal tubs of Cherry Garcia ice cream that only you like while folding laundry... and she smelled like bleach. A lot of bleach.”

The walls of Roman’s apartment suddenly seem to be closing in on them both.

"Out," Roman says, strangled and pleading and reaching for his sidearm. "Out of my apartment! Wait outside and use my phone to call Logan and tell him everything. I’m going to see what else she touched—"

“Your phone’s dead dumbass andI am not going to leave you alone in this apartment where a serial killer might have been hiding out!” Remus says and it sounds remarkably like he’s also panicking. Roman doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen Remus panic; Remus had always been a little too excited about his own lack of self-preservation, and there hadn’t ever been a situation that Remus hadn’t been able to handle and Roman decides that right here, right now, is a horrible time for him to learn to be scared.

Roman’s mouth opens to say something brilliant and focused, something that would make the dozens of FBI instructors he had proud of how calm he could be and how rational he could think, something that would convince Remus to listen to him and go outside away from possible dangers, something that would slow the rapidly building tidal wave of fear in his chest.

What comes out is a partial scream as one of the shadows in his apartment lunges at Remus from behind and slams solidly against his skull. Remus’s eyes go wide, then unfocused, and then his entire body drops like a concrete block in a pool.

Roman jolts towards him, but the sight of the person standing there stops him short: a young woman in black leggings and a pink Princess Peach T-shirt that Roman recognizes from his own closet, and Roman’s high school letterman over her shoulders. There’s Ruger LCP in her manicured hand, barrel pointed right down at Remus’s unmoving head, and she wedges her boot heel directly on his back, like a cat showing off the baby bird it’s killed.

Except the baby bird is Remus’s twin brother and Roman might be next.

He can’t think straight, can’t think at all; every time he tries to remember what protocol is for this, his brain takes a detour to how Remus crumpled like a soda can. Roman can’t tear his eyes from the gun at his twin’s head, not even to look at the intruder enough to memorize her features to tell someone if he makes it out of this. Remus is still as stone, as concrete, as a corpse and Roman can’t even tell if he’s still breathing, or if Roman’s already lost the person who’d always had his back in everything.

“I didn’t think you would be so quiet,” the killer says. Her tone is soft and warm and all the things that serial killers shouldn’t be. Oh, is that why all the victims had been younger and smaller? So that she could get control of them easily if they fought back? “Are you just so happy to see me? Surprised?”

"But….Andy Clupeidae," Roman says, voice trembling, his hand hovering over his gun holster, still not close enough to draw before she would get a chance to fire. "Clupeidae…. Fuck, that’s—That’s a family of fish, right? That’s why it sounded familiar.”

“Sardines, shads, and…herrings," the murderer says, wistfully proud of Roman. "The fact that he was wearing red today was just luck. Isn’t that funny?"

Roman chokes on his urge to laugh because it’s not and his wheezing, twisted, cramped lungs are fighting off hysteria. For someone who was a genius, who thought faster than most people could imagine, who passed every test the FBI threw at him with perfection, Roman can’t remember what he’s supposed to do.

He’s not even sure of what he can do.

His phone hesitates in back pocket, long dead, and as far as he knows no one would even think to check on them tonight. Even if he yelled for help, what would his neighbors do? Call the police? Come running to save him? Get murdered by the person in front of him who’s taken ten other lives like it was a game? Even if Roman ran, what would she do? Chase him? Or just kill Remus and make Roman live out the worst version of his life that he can imagine?

“I’ve been waiting for a long time to meet you, Roman,” the killer says, before he can get a handle of any of his thoughts. “Your team is so annoying, don’t you think? Every time I thought I would have gotten to talk to you alone, one of them always appeared….and then that awful man Logan Ackroyd made you stay at your office! I knew if I tried to visit you there, they wouldn’t understand! They would convince you I was wrong just like how everyone has always said I was wrong and bad!

“So, I stayed here, waiting for you the whole time…thinking you would be able to sneak back here and meet me like you’re supposed to! But your terrible team couldn’t even let you do that!”

((“Is the Gloria Scott referring to The Adventures of the Gloria Scott?” Janus cuts him off right before he says where he lives.))

((“No,” Logan said, “I want you to stay here.”))

((The look that Virgil and Janus shared before they left.))

“They knew.” Roman swallows hard. “They fucking knew and didn’t tell me—”

“It’s okay! I know it wasn’t your fault….” She says mistaking his horror for some other emotion Roman doesn’t even think he can fake. “I realized they just needed a reason to let you come home to me! You did so good solving my code! Even after this bitch showed up and started making fun of you and it!” She presses her boot down on Remus’s spine and Roman jerks reflectively forward before he can stop himself.

“Remus wasn’t—he didn’t—!” Roman stutters. “He wasn’t doing it maliciously! He’s just like that! Okay? You don’t have to hurt him!”

His eyes flick up to her face, hoping that maybe if Roman stops looking at him, Remus will shake off the hit to the head the same way he shook off water after Roman shoved him into the pool when they were kids: miraculously unhurt and smug in his movements, you really thought that could get me to shut up? HA!

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to defend him anymore. You’re never going to have to worry about anyone not taking you seriously ever again. I won’t let them, my detective.” She smiles at him, softly, so softly, as if she really believes she’s doing him a kindness.

Roman takes a step backwards, his back bumping against the closed door. The killer crowds forward, humming happily. “I’m so, so happy to finally meet someone just like me, Detective,” she says. “We’re going to be so happy together. Just you wait.”

[Chapter 2]

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #fbi agent #serial killers #Remus and Roman are good Brothers #Everyone actually adores Roman agenda #tw: guns #Kidnappings #The twins should get to be geniuses #because I said so

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ts-sides-head-canon · 4 months ago

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I'm here again with a not angsty thing because part of me feels bad for sending in angst on a non angst day, and I was planning to anyway. Continuing the whole AU parents, and thing this time, I'm going for Remus and Roman's parents. I've already told you their names, Arthur and Venus, so now Imma tell you about them!

Both the twins' parents are famous, Arthur is a movie star and Venus is a famous pop singer, and it's clear to see how the two had the kids they had. Both of them have always loved the stage, and yet the twins, as well as their eldest son Romulus, always take priority over interviews and such.

Arthur is quite noble and chivalrous, doing things like holding the door for his family and making sure everyone gets the best gifts on special occasions! Though he's also quite protective of his family, especially Roman, he generally tries to be respectful either way. Arthur is also generally suave and charming. He always layers on the charm when his wife is already flustered because the twins had to get it from somewhere. Generally, father-son bonding time is spent with weapons practice, and Arthur will also take nighttime strolls with his sons to help them sort out their thoughts.

Venus is the more passionate out of the two, and she's also the most empathetic. She always knows how best to talk to her sons, and she knows how to calm them down as well. She's quite easily flustered, a trait which was passed on to the twins. She tends towards giving people the benefit of the doubt and isn't as protective as her husband. Venus is also where the creative twins got their creativeivity, often coming up with new stories, worlds, creatures, and characters. Most mother-son bonding time takes the form of some sort of craft, either that or fashion and shopping of some sort.

Both Arthur and Venus are incredibly loving and proud of their sons. They're also the gods of compromise. They can always settle a twin argument no matter what.

Hope you like Remus and Roman's parents! Hope you like them, and I'll see the other thing if it gets there. Now I gotta go! Farewell for now!

Hey, no worries, I saw the ask and knew that I probably wouldn't be able to answer it today. The post was mainly so you knew it wasn't deleted ^^

Also I love these hcs you're sending in! Remus and Roman deserve nice parents fr fr

#especially with the LOADS of angsty parent hcs for them out there #not that the angsty parent hcs aren't good #but sometimes you need some fluff #and we got an older brother romulus in there too i see #sanders sides #thomas sanders sides #ts sides #glacier blabs #glacier answers asks #sasi headcanon #sanders sides headcanon #headcanon #roman sanders #remus sanders #flowtatoexd

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lefaystrent · 23 days ago

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Distractions

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: all-star cast of platonicness

Summary: The light sides are in a sad state of affairs. The dark sides are pretty good at offering distractions.

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

Logan sits on the living room couch, head in his hands, slumped in defeat. Despair. Failure.

He's slightly jostled by someone else sitting on the couch.

"Aliens aren't real," comes Virgil's voice, definitive and assumedly directed at Logan.

Logan lifts his head enough to check. His glasses have made a mighty impression into his forehead but he doesn't move to adjust them. Virgil is very nearly glaring at him.

"Virgil, you yourself have created power point demonstrations centered around the validity of aliens. Since when has your opinion changed?"

"Since now. Fight me, nerd."

Logan leans back a little to properly look at Virgil. He could be mistaken for fuming, the way his jaw is set and the fire burning in his eyes. But no, he is merely adamant to rile Logan up. To what end though?

"Are you...challenging me to a debate?"

Virgil gives a sharp-toothed, satisfied grin. He is willing to play devil's advocate for a good cause.

***

"Hey, wanna dance?"

Roman windmills his arm in the direction of the sultry voice that whispered in his ear. The faint smell of garlic wifts in his nostrils, followed by a gleeful chuckle.

"Remus!! Get out of my room!"

Remus rolls back on his heels. He folds his arms behind his back and looks into the air, a thoughtful hum on his lips.

"Hmmm, how about no?"

"Leave! Out you pest!"

"Make me!"

"You would force the hand of your own brother?" Roman says far too seriously, and Remus gives him an unimpressed stare. "...yeah, you're right, this is very on brand for you. I don't know why I'm acting surprised."

Remus shrugs and throws his hands up in the air. "Alright, if you're done bothering me–"

"You're the one who came in my room!"

"I've got better things to do than listen to you whine, Prince Poopy Pants."

Remus goes to stride out the door. Roman watches him, arms crosses and fingers tapping impatiently on his elbow, haughty expression that says he's one push away from snapping.

Remus pauses at the door.

Roman doesn't have time to anticipate.

Remus snatches up one of Roman's Pop figures off his bookshelf and flees the scene. Roman exits stage right in pursuit, screaming.

***

"You can't stay in bed all day."

"Watch me," Patton says, a pout in his voice. He's buried under blankets with only his hair sticking out at the top.

Janus clicks his tongue and scratches at Patton's scalp. It's less effective with gloves on, but Patton allows the contact.

"Or do, I certainly won't judge you," Janus says flippantly.

Patton whines into the mattress, "That implies that someone is judging me."

"I didn't say that. Did I say that?"

"Janus!" Exasperrated, Patton tosses down his blankets enough to reveal his rumpled onsie and impressive bedhead. He stops when he sees what sits on the bedside table that wasn't there before.

"You never came down for breakfast this morning," Janus explains. "Not that I care or anything. There were just so many pancakes leftover that it would be a shame for them to go to waste."

Patton eyes the tray and the stack of syrupy pancakes. His lip wobbles a little. "You brought me breakfast in bed?"

"Don't get used to it."

Patton finds the will to smile and tucks into breakfast. It tastes freshly made and sweet.

#i wrote this because i am an american #this is for anyone else looking for distractions in this trying time #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #hurt/comfort #writing #fanfiction #distractions

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halfhissandwich · 9 months ago

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This is what your favorite sanders sides ship says about you. (This isn’t serious, lol)

Karrot Kings: Your priority is keeping things wholesome, uncontroversial and most likely canon.

Thomas x any side: You will NOT explain how it works, you just make the fanart and have fun with it.

Nico x any side: You like Karrot Kings, but a bit less healthy.

DRLAMP: You will scramble to explain that Roman and Remus are platonic. It’s okay, buddy, we know.

Logicality: You’ve been in the fandom for a long time.

Logince: Your ideal relationship dynamic is not enemies to lovers. It’s enemies AND lovers.

Analogical: Your ideal relationship dynamic is two people with common sense being put up with everyone else’s nonsense.

Loceit: The same joke as analogical, plus alcohol.

Intrulogical: You’re a firm believer in the power of triggering your boyfriend’s anger issues for funsies.

Royality; Your ideal relationship dynamic is best friends to lovers engaged in wacky hijinks.

Moxiety: You want good things for Virgil.

Moceit; Your ideal relationship dynamic is two dads realizing that instead of fighting for custody, they could just get married.

Intruality: Your ideal relationship dynamic is “hi daddy x oh my god how did you get in my house”

Prinxiety: You enjoy the dynamic of two boyfriends talking crap about their enemies.

Roceit: You like the idea of prinxiety, but you like angst even more.

Remrom: You think that since they’re all the same person anyway, it’s not as weird if they call each other brother. It’s still weird. Go take a shower and reflect.

Anxceit: Your ideal relationship dynamic is stalking your ex.

Dukexiety: Your ideal relationship dynamic is stalking.

Dukeceit: Your ideal relationship dynamic is best friends to lovers engaged in wacky hijinks, but like in an Disney villain way.

Loyality (L x P x Ro): You wanted to ship all the light sides, or you shipped Royality and wanted them to annoy Logan.

Analogince (L x V x Ro): You’re a firm believer in the power of two boyfriends with common sense babysitting their boyfriend who lacks common sense.

Royaliceit (Ro x P x J): You don’t understand why all the ship wars exist when Janus has two hands. Technically six.

Intruloceit (Re x L x J): You want Logan to join the dark sides.

Intruloceitxiety (Re x V x J x L): You want Logan to join the dark sides, but you want him to hesitate.

Intrumoceit (Re x J x P); You like the idea of Intruloceit, but you like Patton even more.

Intruanxceit (Re x V x J): You either wanted to ship the dark sides or you’re just… really sad.

Royalixiety (P x V x Ro): Your interest in shipping Loyality is outweighed by you wanting good things for Virgil.

Logicaliceit (J x P x L): You REALLY want good things for Patton.

(Might add to this later by request lol)

#sanders sides #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides ships

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inthenameofallthingsholy · 11 months ago

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SO THE LATEST SANDER ASIDES

Being a multishipper watching this video was like eating to much chocolate istg i feel sick but in a good way oml I needed to take a lap around the room

Janus and Remus acting like a married couple!!!

Janus getting Patton an adorable gift!!!

Roman and Virgil agreeing on their distrust of Janus and Remus and acting like an opposing married couple like their Remus and Janus’s Inlaws which since Rem and Rom are brother they sortof ARE INLAWS!!!

Virgil fucking GROWLING at Janus insulting Roman!!!!!

Virgil’s thoughtful grift to Logan!!! (I ship them more as platonic besties but i wouldn’t be unhappy if they were canon)

N I C O A P P E A R A N C E

Thomas nearly telling Nico how he feels!!!!! And from just a basic plot standpoint: JANUS AND REMUS ENCOURAGING LOGAN TO TAP INTO HIS RAGE!!!!

#sanders sides #sanders asides #sandersides #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #prinxiety #thomas sanders #nico flores #analogical #moceit #dukeceit #demus #karrot kings

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uhhlifeig · 2 days ago

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Quidditch Pitch - Nov. 27 - word count: 710 - @wolfstarmicrofic

The Gryffindor stands were buzzing with energy as the players zoomed onto the Quidditch pitch.

Up in the commentator’s box, Remus Lupin adjusted the enchanted microphone and smiled. “Welcome to today’s match: Gryffindor versus Slytherin!” His voice echoed over the stadium. “Let’s hope no one dies today, yeah?”

McGonagall was shaking her head exasperatedly beside him.

Remus sighed. The introductions were always the most boring part. “On the Gryffindor side, we have Alex Brown, Mackenzie Glen, and James Potter, Chasers. Our Beaters are Sirius Black and Marlene McKinnon, and Cassidy West and Noah Logsden as Keeper and Seeker respectively.”

Sirius tilted his broom in a mock bow towards the dirty blonde when Remus said his name.

“On the Slytherin side,” the werewolf continued, “we have Dorcas Meadowes, Mark Sanders, and Darcy Avery as Chasers, Kim Johnson and Carmilla Rivers as Beaters, Jackson Mulciber as Keeper, and their Seeker is Regulus Black. Yes, another Black! Because one wasn’t enough, apparently.”

Regulus scowled at the commentary box, adjusting his gloves.

“And they’re off!” Remus announced as Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The players soared into the air, James immediately snatching the Quaffle.

“Potter has the Quaffle- shockingly, not his biggest achievement today. He managed to not fall on his face this morning, folks. It’s a miracle.”

James threw him a dirty look as he dodged a Bludger.

“Oh, McKinnon with a fantastic hit! That’s right, show them how Gryffindor Beaters roll.”

Meanwhile, Regulus darted across the pitch. Remus just managed to catch a glimpse of his face before he flew away.

“And there’s the younger Black giving us all a masterclass on brooding while flying. A true Slytherin strategy- if they can’t win, they’ll look better losing.”

James shot toward the goalposts, weaving through the Slytherin defense with Sirius taking out anyone who got too close.

“Potter goes for it- he shoots, he scores!” Remus cheered. “Look at him. So proud of himself. That’s Gryffindor ten, Slytherin zero!”

A few moments passed without any excitement- until a well-aimed Bludger from Sirius sent the Quaffle spiraling out of a Slytherin’s grasp. James dove to intercept.

“Look at older Black and McKinnon proving that teamwork makes the dream work! And Potter- oh, look at that catch! Someone’s showing off.”

Remus watched as Sirius and Regulus crossed paths mid-air, gazes locking briefly before the younger flew away in search of the Snitch.

“And there’s the Black brothers, sharing a tender sibling moment,” the werewolf drawled. “Truly touching. Almost makes you forget they’re trying to knock each other out of the sky.”

James’s next pass was intercepted by a Slytherin Chaser, who charged toward the Gryffindor goalposts.

“Finally, some action from Slytherin! And there goes West, looking vaguely concerned. Can she- oh, no, she can’t. Goal for Slytherin. It’s ten-all, folks!”

A Bludger shot past his friend by mere inches, Sirius swerving out of the way when he saw it hurtling at him. Remus breathed out a breath of relief, announcing, “Sirius Black narrowly avoids a Bludger! Shocking reflexes from a man who tripped over his own feet this morning.”

A cheer sounded as Marlene sent Carmilla reeling with a Bludger to the shoulder.

“McKinnon, good job,” Remus said, his grin audible. “Show those Slytherins who’s boss around here.”

Eventually, Regulus dove for the ground, looking as if he had spotted the Snitch. Noah followed him, but the moment he realized it was a feint, he swerved upwards.

“And Baby Black pulls a Wronski Feint! Probably trying to pull more than that today, if you know what I mean,” Remus remarked with a sly tone.

Despite the chaos, the match pressed on.

“And that’s Potter with another goal- I think his ego is taking over, folks.”

Noah suddenly shot forwards, having spotted the Snitch. Regulus tailed him, but the Gryffindor grabbed it a millisecond before the younger Black brother would have, cinching a win.

Remus leaned back in his chair, smiling. “And that’s the game, folks! Gryffindor takes it, thanks to teamwork, skill, and, let’s face it, sheer dumb luck. Better luck next time, Slytherin. ”

He started a timer in his mind. One, two, three…

Sirius flew right in front of the commentary box, grinning broadly. “I guess that good luck kiss really did work, Moony.”

#guess who brought back commentator remus!!!#my babyyy hes so snarky #i love him so much #and siriussss #“i guess that good luck kiss really did work” YASS GET IT QWEEN #sorry 😭 i know im fangirling over my own work 😔 but sirius orion black the man you are 😍#oh and btw jegulus is totally hooking up in this au #emi writes sometimes #platonic moonwater #as in remus teases the fuck out of reg #and vice versa #but they still end up cuddling together at the end of the day #and sirius and james are feeling very jealous but theyre not sure why #maraudersera #remus lupin #wolfstar #moony x padfoot #moony #sirius x remus #sirius orion black #sirius loves remus #sirius black x remus lupin #sirius black #sirius being sirius #sirius and regulus #remus x sirius #remus lupin x sirius black #remus and sirius #remus loves sirius #regulus a black

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piliiiiiconfusionf · 5 months ago

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The Beginning ~ Sanders Sides fic

Wc: 3942

Characters: Roman Sanders/ Dragon Witch/ Mentioned Logan Sanders/ Mentioned Remus Sanders /Mentioned Virgil Sanders/ Mentioned C!Thomas Sanders/ Unknown to the Narrator voices.

Warnings: Slight mentions of violence and injuries (though they aren't really real) mentioning blood, stabbing, but without a knife.

Summary: Roman, as Thomas' creative side, has always been familiar with nightmares. Not in the way of him having them himself but… quite the opposite. He fought against the nightmares his friends had.

Or better said…with what was left from them.

He was absent when it came to being part of Thomas' nightmares, never being able to understand and see by himself what was happening in them, all because of his brother, Remus, the other half of creativity, being in charge.

He got frustrated by that, always, struggling to help and guide Thomas to his dreams, to what felt right.

But... this time, after so long... It was different.

~*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.~

The Beginning

Roman, as Thomas' Creative side, has always been familiar with nightmares. Not in the way of him having them himself but… quite the opposite.

He fought against the nightmares his friends had.

Or better said…with what was left from them.

Most nightmares were vivid, prompted by his brother, Remus, the embodiment of dark Creativity and Roman's opposite, while Virgil ended them, the latter waking Thomas up in an anxious mess, while Logan tried to reassure them with facts to remind them it was only a dream, helping them to go back to reality and calm down.

Once they were mildly recovered, if needed, Roman would do his best to distract Thomas the best he could. Roman was the one that was always up to save Thomas from them, sometimes helping him with particularly bad dreams, if it wasn't by Thomas calling for him in the middle of the night to make up lighter scenarios to go back to sleep, it was trying to help him to see the nightmare more positively, getting inspired from whatever his brother decided to annoy Thomas with, instead of ignoring them, since Logan Insisted was the best way to avoid intrusive thoughts.

But again, Roman was absent. He struggled to understand the nightmares, sometimes even refused to, just for the pride of not being like Remus, which he had to fight for, just for his love and loyalty towards Thomas, but it still made the mission of finding out how exactly to help Thomas the best he could be harder than he would like it to be.

Sometimes, he even wished he could actually …be there. It was frustrating to see his friends hurting from nightmares, it was frustrating that he couldn't stop Remus from doing it in the first place, to not understand later and have him being explained over and over, having to ask the logic side to remind him of details he sometimes messed up with, repeating, reminding them of the bad time, because it was frustrating that he was affected by something he couldn't understand and above all, it was frustrating to not be able to help, especially when Virgil refused to talk about it and leave it alone to not trigger Thomas.

He was the prince, the Hero of the story supposed to be there when he was needed; the one others could rely on; the one others could trust. How could he help if they didn't let him know?!

He got frustrated, over and over. He was not good at hiding it when something made him upset, but… he cared about his friends, even if he didn't want to admit it, and did his best to not add even more to the pile. He had to be strong when things went bad, that is what heroes did.

He tried, his best, to just accept that things were like they were, but the hope of doing something more was still there. He was the embodiment of hopes and dreams after all, he couldn't lose that.

He tried not to think too much about it. This was something he didn't have any power on, he couldn't take his brother's place, no matter how frustrating that was. He tried not to focus, to ignore.

But… this time, after so long… it was different.

When Roman opened his eyes, darkness embraced him. It was dull, hollow, and confusing in a way that he didn't even know when his eyes were open. He tried looking around, walking around, running forward, walking forward, slashing with his sword around, trying to summon a candle that didn't appear… he was met with nothing, no matter what he imagined, which told him this was somewhere different from the Imagination or the Mind Scape.

Realization struck him. The last memory he recalled was him calling it a day as he read some Disney book he found. Probably Inside Out, he thought at first, being reminded of the darkness where each emotion met in the movie.

But then he felt something different. Dreams, the dreams that he created, weren't dark, weren't hollow, in the slightest. His dreams were bright, imaginative, out of this world, full of adventures and mysteries to solve that would leave both him and Thomas with an open ending haunting them forever.

This one, even though it was a mystery, was just … different.

This one was not made by him.

The darkness was uneasy but that probably was because Roman wasn't one to be in the darkness, he didn't like it much. That was more of the Emo Nightmare Virgil thing where he would either enjoy the time there or be overwhelmed by something Remus did, to scare Thomas.

Remus…this was more of his thing…

And if it was a dream, that Roman didn't make…

This was a nightmare.

Roman found himself with his last feeling of sleepiness off, traded by pure adrenaline burning in his chest with that thought. He gasped at the realization and perked up, following his first thought when he kept running forward.

That could get him somewhere right? That's how a dream worked, he had to move, continue the plot, a made up plot that he didn't have any power on, that the person dreaming didn't have power on, but if it was vivid enough, like this one, could choose its path by themselves… Roman knew how dreams worked and this one was vivid, he could finally choose by himself, in a nightmare,finally by himself.

Finally a change to help.

To be the hero.

After so long, after so long hoping- was it possible?

No need to question it, he thought. He wasn't Logan, dreams didn't follow logic. Hope was born in his chest again, gently warming his chest up.

In the middle of his undeniable excitement, Roman tried to remind himself of how nightmares worked. Dreams were a thing, but Nightmares had a factor that explained why they affected a side like the embodiment of Anxiety himself the most.

They were supposed to know someone to their deepest, the strongest fears, their weaknesses…

…

And Roman was a hero. He was brave, he fought his weaknesses, he beat them, and that made him invulnerable. Who else was more appropriate to face a situation like this, if it wasn't him?

A nightmare was just another, darker, dream right? Just like fighting yet another monster, another adventure, another mission.

Easy.

Roman kept running, a grin on his face as his hope kept trying to tell him where he had to go.

First, he had to find out whose nightmare it was, or… which side was the one contributing the most. As far as he knew, no one of the sides feared the darkness, including him, so what must be the problem here was: what was in the darkness, right?

And what he needed to see that was light.

He ran and ran, and could swear he started seeing light far away when he hurried himself. Feeling pride by his confirmed thought.

It was simple.

This was finally…the time.

His time.

"DO NOT WORRY!" Roman shouted confidence in his tone as a warning. His voice echoed around the darkness, surprising him and reminded him of when he was exploring caves. Hearing his own echoed words, he doubted them a bit, continuing with the same tone "OR ABSOLUTELY DO, ACTUALLY, IF YOU ARE A VILLAIN." He put his sword up.

"RETREAT, OR…" he laughed at his own thought "WE WILL MAKE THIS EVEN MORE EXCITING!"

Roman, indeed, was getting excited as he felt a fire of pride coming on his chest.

He strengthened his run. The light seemed to be getting closer with every step and the feeling on his chest did the same.

He ran with widened eyes, his eyes shining, his smile brightening, he put his hand towards it in an attempt to reach the light and jumped, feeling like he was flying as he slowly floated forward to it.

He took his time to look at it. Allowed himself to breathe, to curiously investigate it. Waiting.

Yeah, he thought it would be easy, that it was just another goal to achieve…but he wouldn't expect it to be boring. Too easy.

Suddenly, the growl that he was expecting came. He expectantly looked up, and smiled.

'There you are' Roman thought. His smile brightened even more.

From the above, a huge dragon with a black cloth and hat appeared as it threateningly flew in circles towards the light. It reminded Roman of how Logan described vultures used to fly around before eating their prey. A last mock from a creature of nature to another in its last minutes of life.

Roman chuckled.

He should be the one doing that.

"I'M READY!" Roman shouted to the Dragon Witch, his nemesis, his long sworn enemy and opponent. He wasn't surprised by her appearance in the first nightmare he remembered being part of. This creature, even if Roman always had to fight it and represented the villain of his stories, was who reminded Roman of his ego, of his purpose.

To protect. To guide people to their dreams.

Roman looked down to the light again, steady and lonely from where Roman first found it. It didn't seem that it had moved itself, not even a little, like it was shocked in place, small as it was. The small…star? Was weakly glowing in place, like a little kid so overwhelmed by a crowd, this little star not realizing it was the reason why there was light in the darkness, light that it couldn't feel itself.

Roman urged to where it was, allowed the weird atmosphere where he was to allow him to float to where the light was, which moved for the first time, backing off, but Roman didn't push it, saving a bit of distance between them, and then struggling to control his movements like he was floating in air. To his experience, it felt like swimming in the water, imagining himself as what would it be if the prince from the little Mermaid would do if he was transformed into a mermaid instead of Ariel into a human.

But Roman had to shake his head and come back to the situation at hand. This was a cool scenario and he was sure that it was also worth it for a Disney production scene if he tried.

With pride, he put himself between the light and the dragon who was coming with a speed that he didn't remember ever seeing her being able to reach, but didn't have time to think about that, she was coming for him.

Roman put himself on guard and charged with a war shout to the dragon too.

Once both were just in front of each, Roman tried slashing while the dragon blocked with her claws. The struggle between them lasted a bit like that until the dragon managed to take Roman by surprise and scratched him on his neck, pushing him back.

Roman groaned with shut down eyes, putting his hand on his neck from the pain. Surprisingly, there was no blood, no physical symptoms aside from the pain, and he had to notice fast when he saw the dragon charging towards the star again.

Roman yelped, and ignored his struggles trying to go as fast as he could towards the dragon-

'You are losing'

A voice echoed in his mind, taking Roman off guard. This voice didn't sound like anyone in particular,at least not someone he could recognise… he just waved it off.

Losing? No, he wasn't. The prince shook his head, and charged once more. He would prove it otherwise.

The dragon noticed Roman behind him, and looked back with a ball of fire charging in her mouth as a last warning for Roman to realize he had to dodge.

It was a struggle, once again, but this time the adrenaline took control and Roman dodged the next attacks rolling in the air with an experience that he knew he didn't have in reality, like he was flying and had been for the entirety of his life.

Welp, that's how dreams worked, he thought. He wasn't surprised that Remus' would work the same.

Speaking of witch-

Suddenly, probably because of his thoughts, the Dragon's laugh started sounding like Remus'. His brother's laugh followed by a high pitched screech coming from the dragon echoed in Roman's mind, and it was making it even more frustrating than it had to be, making his ears sore.

He shutted his eyes down against his will and tapped his ears as he groaned-

'You are a FAILURE.'

Roman flinched.

Among the noises, the voice that spoke to him before came back with more strength.

For a moment, Roman struggled, feeling how the words affected the warm feeling of pride that was still burning in his chest. It didn't hurt, but for a tiny bit he felt a pang of pain as the words settled in his mind.

He wasn't a failure.

Ignoring his clear uneasiness and how he felt like the darkness around him moved, Roman charged towards the dragon again. He had determination in his eyes, his internal fire pushing him to keep fighting and trying to muffle the laughs that kept getting stronger. He put his attention on the tiny star, and pushed harder.

He had someone to protect. Recognition and pride were things that he needed as Thomas' ego but this star needed a savior, and there was him.

'Are you sure about that?'

The voice asked, mockingly, and distracted Roman for a second, only a second.

When he looked down he regretted doing so.

In a way that couldn't be possible, the dragon was way too close to the star now. Roman widened his eyes and ignored everything as he charged again.

Or tried to.

'Not too fast.'

The darkness suddenly trapped him from behind and took him by surprise as he tried to fight it. The thick black darkness pushed him into it like tentacles that reminded him of his brother's obsession with octopuses. They were strong, and coming out from them didn't seem like an easy task, so he better got himself out there quick, or else-

Suddenly, one of the tentacles moved from his back.

'How could they trust you if you can't even do this right?'

Roman felt a sharp , luckily quick pain in his back to his stomach, like he had been stabbed, pain that didn't give him time to scream about it after he was left on the floor with a gasp.

He crouched down, breathing accelerated at the dull pain. He felt kinda grateful that it didn't hurt as much as it probably should, but when he checked down his torso, the wet he could swear he felt wasn't there. For a second he even expected a hole-

He weakly shook his head and closed his eyes.

A nightmare, Roman thought This is just a nightmare, and blood and all that is not your thing, you know this, you are doing this right, helping, finally, they– he kept trying to reassure himself when the voice pushed back again with force

'How could YOU expect them to trust you like this?'

Roman looked up.

From the darkness, one of the tentacles moved up and Roman could swear that it was a perfect black representation of Deceit's face. The prince looked confusedly at it for a second and then gasped, as the fire that once helped as determination, now started to burn him from the inside.

"Between you and Remus, I wouldn't know who the evil twin is"

Deceit

Roman groaned.

He wasn't evil. He knew that-

"I'm the most important Side here!"

Logan

WRONG! Roman thought, but couldn't find in himself to speak.

The fire kept growing in him, keeping him in place because of the pain. He felt tears coming down his cheeks as the darkness left him on the floor, action he barely noticed in the shaky, vulnerable way he was kneeling down on the floor. The fire just kept growing.

‘’Roman, you get super insecure for some reason and when you do, the work suffers’’

Virgil

Roman heard the voices but not quite acknowledged them, pushed them down. The fire kept growing and as the teary mess he was he didn't know how to make the feelings stop.

Insecure.

Virgil, the one that was always in fear, always the one that Roman thought held Thomas back, called him, actual ego,…insecure.

‘How could you expect them to feel secure around you if you are insecure?’

Roman looked down.

He knew better now. Knew better from Virgil, knew better than to take everything Virgil said seriously or in a negative way when he didn't mean it, like it was in this case, learnt to respect him. To see pass his role, to see what his intention was.

But..the feelings, even if they felt distant, they were real. Every time he tried to push them down, they didn't do anything but push back up.

He knew he could mess up sometimes, he did more than he would like to admit, like-

'Did you really do the right thing?'

Ah, yes. What were nightmares about, again?

Weaknesses.

His first thought was the wedding. The feelings there, the weight, the doubt, the thought of 'I don't want to be here.' that weightened him.

Roman hated this. He hated the regret that embraced him when thinking about it, but…he was the one who chose that, right? That was…right, even if it hurt… it was the right thing.

Right..?

He… he deserved it, he gave his word, he–

"Roman, it's ok"

Suddenly a voice that he couldn't recognise snapped him out of his thoughts. For a moment, everything was silent, Roman widened his eyes in shock, unable to react until the voice sounded again.

"We l—- y—u..."

...

Wait what was that-?

Who in the–?

The voice was distant, glitched, so blurry that for a second he thought his mind made it up trying to get himself out of the torture this nightmare was making him deal with, but the fact that he kept trying to understand what he heard didn't allow to forget, pushing forward to focus. He could even feel how his body weirdly calmed down at it–

This thought, even if it wasn't on purpose, seemed to also help to distract his mind enough to stop the memories. The fire didn't hurt anymore, the darkness around seemed to stop trying to reach for him, but he felt weak, tired, a deafening sensation embracing his whole body, kind of dizzy and cold now that the fire seemed to have ceased. He posed his hand on his neck and flinched slightly at the faint pain he felt from the attack he received earlier.

Speaking of which.

Further from where he remembered he was, he barely could catch the light that he swore to protect. He felt the adrenaline rush in his chest again, but found out his mind was working faster than his body.

Damnit.

He focused, and feeling a weird numbness in his chest, he slowly stood up. But to his surprise ,the next thing he knew was that he was standing next to the star. Star that, differently from what he remembered, was weak, a barely there light blue light that shily glowed through Roman.

Roman, disoriented at first, gulped, and uncomfortably looked behind him expecting the Dragon to keep looking for him, but found her crumbled on the floor, without making a sound.

Did he…did he do that–? When-

The star slightly glowing harder for a moment called his attention back to it. Like Roman, it also seemed… tired? More seconds passed by, and Roman could swear he saw how it was slowly also getting smaller. Roman rushed,reaching out, and gently put his hands below it, so it could stay there.

The star seemed to oblige, as it stayed there, without moving. Roman took the opportunity to kneel and take a closer look to it when… it also seemed to be losing color.

Roman felt a weird urge of emotions flowing through him again. A small drop coming from his eyes again, this time with no apparent reason.

Why was he crying?

Why did he feel so…sad? Was that it?

He knew better than to question nightmares, especially if prompted by Remus but- what was all of this?? Did it even have a meaning?

Maybe–

As he processed, he noticed the star was losing form. Little particles floating around Roman's arms like glitter and embraced him like they were tiny stars, and Roman was like that one Disney short, a kid in the space trying to reach the stars in the darkness of the night.

'Woah, Yeah uh…Logan would love this' he thought with a tiny smile as he sighed at the sight of it. That stoic perfectionist logic side could have some appreciation for these things, especially when he didn't have other ways to experience it. He…was able to understand that what Roman did, even if it was different…was also important… that it wasn't nonsense. The thought helped to distract Roman a bit from the hopelessness he was starting to feel.

It was not right for him to feel hopeless…it didn't feel right.

He looked down at his hands again, where the tiny last glow stayed.

Roman looked at it, and sniffled against his will. He gently took one hand out and pointed to the star, hesitantly. The light didn't move, and for the last seconds, it was like time stopped.

Darkness embraced him again after the last touch, and this time, he didn't do anything to fight it.

…

The next thing he knew was that he slowly, so slowly, opened his eyes and was found by many tiny familiar figures on the ceiling, and posters on the walls.

He was in his room.

He didn't even feel like moving. He looked up, trying to catch what had just happened.

After a bit, he looked aside, to his bedside table. There was the book he remembered reading last night, and above it, his notebook. He always left it there, always waiting and prepared for him waking up with ideas or for when he came to bed and had the 3 am thoughts, always getting inspired in the least preferable moments-.

This dream seemed like one of those, the ones that he would feel the urge and need to write down for Thomas, especially when it was about the first nightmare he felt he was part of.

A nightmare that … seemed to be about him. About Roman. This was his nightmare, that was…without saying. He just…didn't know what the heck did it mean, it felt more than just- his insecurities.

He focused on the notebook…actually unfocused.

He just felt…so weird.

He kept staring at the pencil next to it too.

He just-

He was…this was not good.

Something was missing.

He looked back to the ceiling, processing the feeling.

The fire on his chest… he didn't feel it. He couldn't feel it. What- why–?

…

Oh.

Wait a second-

This was- the feeling of the lack of a feeling he well knew pushed him forward. That had a name, and it was–

Oh.

Holy. Sh—cheezits and bagels.

Roman Sanders, Sir Sing A Lot, Thomas's creativity, hopes and dreams, his ego…was feeling…

Unmotivated.

The royal pain he couldn't help to feel and killed him from the inside out. He lost his damn sparkle.

He had no motivation.

He couldn't do his job. Couldn't help Thomas-

That was definitely not good.

~*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.~

***

-Author's note: HELLO THERE!! phew I hope you enjoyed this! This is a story that has been in my mind for quite a long time now- I'm a really slow cook, bear with me-- XD started around last year and keeps kicking- 🤣 I have a lot of plans for this! I wouldn't want them to simply get lost in my documents haha 😂

The gist of it, to give a better understanding of this part in particular, is a Side being forgotten. Roman doesn't know said Side in this story, it's like he never met him... Why could that be? Any thoughts? :)

Anyway! Thanks for your time and reading! Would love to know what you guys think! :D might see more about this thing around in another time, consuming my mind at the time XD See you!

And special thanks to @fandombead for helping me post this, I'm just a little guy that wants to make stories once in a blue moon and doesn't know how this works BWAHA ty fren

-Pili F.

***

42 notes · View notes

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 7 months ago

Text

Gross

Fic Idea (no pressure obviously) Thomas struggling with his self image and ego, and in response Roman ends shapeshifting all the time, fluctuating between the masculine beauty standard (lean, muscular, hairless) and what society considers “ugly” (pudgy, hairy). And based on how he looks, Roman will interact with the others or hide away – anon

hihi!! had this random idea for a sanders sides fic- something along the lines of- a while after Remus and Roman split, Remus comes back (when the dark sides start to get more involved) and confesses that he hoped Roman was doing better after he joined the light sides? that all he wanted was for his brother to be happy, away from the darkness for once? angst sadness ykyk :)) – can-you-hear-me-axhilles

hi, so I just read your wings series and I was wondering if we could have something with Remus and his tentacles? Like maybe him thinking they are ugly or something, I’m not really sure. Maybe Roman has animal characteristics too and they’re “prettier” or “better” so he gets insecure? Mainly focused on these two but I don’t mind if it’s all of them together. No pressure to write this tho! – anon

I’ve been reading your Sanders Sides stuff for the longest time and I was wondering if I could get some Roman angst with a side of creativitwins? – meandmacats

Read on Ao3

Warnings: non-consensual body modification, self-esteem issues, self-hatred

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5481

Or, five times Remus helped Roman out when Thomas's self-esteem issues change his nature, and one time Roman helps Remus.

”Remus?”

Remus looks up from his knitting to see Patton standing over him. “What’s good, Pat-Pat?”

“I’m, what’re you doing?”

“Oh, I’m knitting this patchwork sweater out of hair.”

“Oh…how cool.” Patton gives himself a shake. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’ve seen Roman? He was supposed to come down for lunch but he never showed.”

“Like, at all, at all?”

“Yeah. Neither hair nor hide! Or—well, I guess he did do the hide since he’s hiding from us, and you’re the hair!”

“Ah, Pat-Pat, never stop with the dad jokes. You’ll make all of us go into pun-withdrawal.” Remus carefully sets aside the needles and bounces to his feet. “I’ll go look for him, see if he needs to be pried out of the dragon’s gullet again.”

“Oh, thanks so much, Remus, I really—wait, ‘again?’”

“Gotta blast!”

Honestly, it’s not like Roro is known for missing deadlines, that’s Remus’s thing. Especially when it comes to things like meals and remembering to eat—well, Ro’s not exactly the pinnacle of healthy practices when he get absorbed in his work, but he’s better at it than some people give him credit for. Which means he’s either deep in the middle of something he’s keeping to himself, he’s asleep because the time zones in the Imagination are all kinds of wackadoo, or he really does need to be rescued.

Which isn’t Remus’s thing, come on, Ro, you’re ruining his reputation.

By the time he gets to the Imagination, he’s already pulling out his acid-proof gloves and sharpening his Morningstar. He stops dead, however, when he sees the doors are still locked from last night. That’s weird. Maybe Ro just used his personal gate instead of the main one? But that just takes him right to his little workshop area, that’s not anywhere near where the dragons are…

He’s about to go for his gateway when he hears a quiet noise coming from Roman’s door. Frowning, he turns. Roman’s door is only a few feet away. He glances up and down the hall to make sure none of the resident sneaks are nearby—Janus and Virgil—and knocks on the door.

“Uh, busy!”

“Ro, it’s me.”

“Oh. Did you, um, did you need something?”

“You weren’t at lunch. Pat-Pat’s getting worried.”

He hears a muffled curse and the door glimmers slightly. That’s Roman’s cue that he can sink in. He stows the acid gloves and the Morningstar and sinks in, expecting Roman at his desk or on the floor puzzling over some bit of a story he can’t quite get right, but instead he sees an empty room.

“Where are you?”

“Bathroom.”

Remus pops his head through the door and blinks. “Whoa.”

”Yeah, yeah,” Roman mumbles, already reaching for the bandages curled up on the counter, “you don’t have to say it.”

”That looks—“

“I said you don’t have to say it.”

Remus slams his mouth shut, but he can’t stop staring at the acne. Throbbing red pimples that look like they’re causing Roman pain every time he so much as breathes, bigger whiteheads that have already started to ooze, blackheads that litter every inch of skin that isn’t already covered, some of which look like they’re almost on top of each other…

Roman turns his back on him and hunches his shoulders. “What do you want, Re?”

“I, uh…well, now I want to help.”

Roman laughs. It’s not funny. “There isn’t any helping this. Not until Thomas feels better.”

“Whoa. Back up. What?”

“This.” He waves a hand at his face. “This is a thing, remember?”

“Oh. Oh, right, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Remus scrubs a hand over his face. “Can I help make it less painful while it’s going on?”

There’s a pause. Then Roman’s head turns slightly. “Would you?”

“Shit, yeah,. Roro. You’ve helped me with stuff more times than I can count on my fingers and toes, let me help you.” He gets a small huff that might be an actual that-was-kind-of-funny-I’m-feeling-better laugh. “Yeah?”

“…yeah, okay.”

“Wonder-bats! Okay, I think I still have that stuff from when we had those sores from the poison experiments…where did I put that?”

“Did you leave it in your room or my room?”

”We cleaned up here, so it should be…aha!” He takes a big plastic case from under the sink. “Go sit your perky butt on the edge of the tub, I’ll be right there.”

“…thanks, Remus.”

“What’re brothers for?”

The very first time it had happened, it had been well before Thomas had learned what it was to be attractive.

Remus had found Roman crying in his room, curled up under all the blankets he could find with tissues covering the floor.

“Ro-bro? What happened? Do I need to fight someone for you?”

“It won’t come off!”

“What won’t come off?”

Roman had peered out from under the blanket cocoon and Remus’s mouth had dropped open when he saw the words FREAK and LOSER written all across Roman’s face in permanent marker.

“Who did that? Was it Virgil? I’ll fight him!”

“No,” Roman had sniffled, “it wasn’t—wasn’t Virgil. It wasn’t any of them.”

“Did you do it? That’s more my kinda thing, isn’t it?”

“No!” Roman had wailed. “I didn’t do it! Someone—someone hurt Thomas!”

“Someone hurt Thomas? But nothing happened! We didn’t get into any fights!”

“Not like that! They were just mean. They were really mean and they said he looked ugly and they called him a f-freak and a loser and—and—“

Remus had scurried forward and wrapped his brother in a hug as he broke down in tears. “You’re not a freak or a loser, Roro. Neither is Thomas. They were wrong, you know that, right?”

”Then why won’t it come off?”

Sure enough, up close, Remus had seen the red and raw skin where Roman had scrubbed it with whatever he could find to make the words go away. Bits were even coming off on the blanket as Roman rubbed his cheek against it.

”Hey, hey, stop that. You’re hurting yourself.”

“I don’t care.”

“I care! I don’t like seeing my brother hurt!” Remus had given him a shake. “You don’t have to hurt yourself more on top of this, okay? Come on, come into the bathroom, I’ll help you.”

“Y-you will?”

“Yeah, Roro, come on.”

The twins had gone to the bathroom where towels and washcloths were still strewn around from Roman’s previous attempts. Remus had made Roman sit on the stool and reached for the soap, getting one of the washcloth more suds than cloth and trying to wipe off the words.

“That tastes so bad.”

“So keep your mouth shut.”

“But you keep wiping it over my mouth!”

“No, I’m wiping it over your cheek, which is next to your mouth. And you talking isn’t making it any better, so shush.”

Roman had grumbled silently until Remus accidentally went too roughly over one of the sore spots and Roman yelped.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,. I didn’t mean to.”

“Wash it off! Wash it off!”

“Okay, okay! Come here!”

They had stumbled over to the sink and Remus practically shoved Roman’s head under the tap. He had spluttered and flailed out, splashing Remus.

”Hey! Don’t splash me!”

“I’ll splash you all I want!”

“No, you won’t!”

“Yeah, I will!”

It had…devolved from there.

The bathroom had been sopping wet by the end of it, not a towel nor tile had been spared from the twin’s water war. Their clothes were just as soaked, their hair dripping like they’d just walked through a hurricane. The sink and the bathtub still ran as if nothing were wrong and the detachable shower head in Remus’s hand sprayed as merrily as ever.

”Whoa, hey!”

“What?”

“It’s gone!”

Roman had run to the mirror, touching his face. Sure enough, the words had vanished.

”It is gone!”

”You’re welcome,” and he had taken a big bow with the shower head still spraying everywhere, “I think that means I win.”

“Whoa, wait, no, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does.”

”No!”

“Yes!”

It took a while longer for the war to end and even longer for the bathroom to dry.

Someone says Thomas eats too much junk food and Roman can’t stop dripping oil.

Remus finds him sitting on his bathroom floor, the drain in the shower covered with a towel. He’s sitting on towels too, towels soaked and heavy with oil as Roman’s tears fight to get out from his eyes and through the slick covering his skin.

“The others are worried,” he says quietly, lingering in the doorway, “they want to know what’s wrong.”

Roman doesn’t say anything. Remus peers a little closer and sees the telltale sheen over his mouth too. Even just thinking about how it must feel to have that much oil on his lips makes Remus shudder. He summons a washcloth from his own stash and a bottle of soap.

“Just like old times,” he says as he crouches down in front of him, “I’m gonna wash off the oil on your face, okay?”

Roman manages a small nod and Remus gets to work. Normally when he’s washing oil off stuff, he scrubs at it like he’s trying to grind it with sandpaper and the soap foams up around his wrist. But this is Roman, not some metal piece of equipment, so he goes as gently as he can without suffocating him with soap or making no progress at all. He has to stop a few times when Roman lets out a pained noise or winces at the rasp of the cloth, just holding a blotting sheet there to soak up the oil as best he can while he waits for him to settle. He makes a note to work on the heavy duty blotters in case something like this ever happens again.

At last, when Roman looks like he’s about to cry for a very different reason, the space around his lips and nose is clear enough for him to gasp out a few words.

“Sorry, thank you, sorry—“

”Shh-shh, Roro, you don’t need to apologize. Just tell me what you need.”

”’S so gross.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m right here.”

Roman lets out a frustrated whine and Remus quickly pulls out his phone.

“If you tell me what Thomas needs to stop thinking about I can get Lolo on it.”

“No, then he’ll—“

“I’m not gonna tell him what’s wrong with you, okay? I’m just gonna prod them into getting Thomathy’s brain on the right track away from whatever-the-fuck-this-is-station.”

More oil starts to build up and he shoves his phone in his pocket, working on washing it away again. His presence seems to have calmed Roman down a bit; the oil comes in smaller waves this time, concentrated more around the naturally oily parts of his face rather than every inch of his skin. When he’s cleaned off the areas around his nose and mouth, he goes and starts moving to the rest of his head.

“Junk food,” Roman mumbles, as if saying it too loud would make the oil return with a vengeance, “saying bad stuff ‘bout Thomas…unhealthy…gross…”

Remus whips out his phone and sends a text to Logan about food not having a moral weight and how eating something was always better than eating nothing. He gets a text back a few seconds later that just says on it.

“Lolo cavalry is assembled, he’s going.” He tucks the phone away and keeps washing Roman off. “And I’m gonna stay right here until we get all this oil off you, okay? We can even do your thirteen-step skin care routine once it’s gone.”

“It’s not thirteen steps.”

“Whatever you wanna tell me, Roro, at least you’re not as bad as Snakey.”

It’s the first time Roman manages to laugh that day, and Remus makes sure it isn’t the last.

When Patton and Logan have near simultaneous nervous breakdowns after someone calls Thomas lazy, Remus makes sure Virgil’s wrapped around the Mindscape’s padre and Janus has Logan in his little snake den before he goes off in search of Roman.

The Imagination door is covered in cobwebs that retreat as he approaches, a few spiders waving hello as they disappear. He runs his hand over the keyhole, checking to see if it’s just an affectation, or if Roman really hasn’t been using it. He knows he has, is the thing; Roman’s had more projects on the go this month than he’s ever had before and if it weren’t for Janus and Logan dragging him out of it to make sure he didn’t completely lose touch with the Mindscape, he bets his left barnacle that Roman would’ve been living there too just so he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to keep working. And sure enough, the keyhole glows red as soon as his fingers brush it and he carefully pushes the door open.

He walks into the most statistically average middle class sitcom home he’s ever seen. Needless to say, he hates it.

”Ro? Are you here?”

There’s a faint noise coming from what he guesses is the direction of the living room and listen, as little time as he has to spend in this painfully mediocre place, the better. Seriously, he can feel the whispers of white picket fences and PTA meetings lingering ominously over his shoulder with every second he walks through these beige walls. Snatches of TV dialogue becomes audible as he makes his way through the house.

He comes to a stop.

He tilts his head.

There’s certainly a person in the living room, but it doesn’t really look like Roman. They look like every Sunday cartoon about a husband and wife where it’s terribly misogynistic and heteronormative, recliner out, bag of chips in lap, staring vacantly at the TV. It’s only the fact that they’re crying at the paid advertising programs and that Remus would recognize his brother anywhere that he knows it’s Roman.

He sits down on the plastic covered couch and tries not to look at the soulless photos of smiling families perched on the dusty mantle. Roman doesn’t look away from the screen but the hand nearest Remus twitches slightly.

“Hey,” he calls, and Roman’s head turns a little, “hey, Roro. I’m here. It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

The TV blares something about a crockpot that cooks fancier meals than a normal crock pot.

“I know how shitty it is when people accuse you of being lazy. Especially when they’re just complaining that they haven’t seen anything from you.” He shuffles and the couch squeaks. “And we all know how hard you’re working. How hard Thomas is working.”

Roman’s eyes flick to his. Remus smiles and takes his hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“Giving yourself a break isn’t being lazy. Having a hard time doing things isn’t lazy. Not being able to work on something because it’s just covered in the fucking ooze isn’t being lazy. You aren’t being lazy, okay? You wouldn’t even be lazy if you decided you didn’t want to work on any projects for the next year.”

The TV glitches out. Static fills the room and it actually feels like Remus can breathe. He squeezes Roman’s hand again and shifts closer. Roman stares at him with wide eyes.

”I mean it, Roro. You’re not—I know we’ve gone over this and I’ll keep giving you crowbars for as long as you need them—“

The smallest smile appears on Roman’s face.

“—but you’re not—your worth isn’t in what products or content you can make. You know i love you because you’re my brother, because you’re funny and clever and ridiculous and there’s no one I’d rather make stuff with. You could decide that you don’t want anything to do with Thomas’s career anymore—“

Roman makes a devastated noise.

“Calm down, calm down, I know that’s not true, I’m just spouting a wild hypothetical, okay? If you decided to do that and I made sure it was really you and you hadn’t lost some sort of bet, then yeah, I’d still want you to be my brother. We’d still do stuff. I don’t give a shit what everyone else thinks.”

”…promise?”

Remus could sob with relief at actually hearing Roman’s voice come out, and he grins so wide his cheeks start to hurt. “I promise, Roro, I promise. You’re not lazy, you’re resting, and even if you were, I wouldn’t care.”

‘’M not trying to be lazy. It’s—I’m just—“

“Shh, shh, Roro, it’s okay,” The bag of chips falls to the ground and catches fire as Remus tugs his brother into his arms. “I’m right here. You’re doing so good, okay? Thomas is too.”

Remus doesn’t burn the house down because he’s had too many lectures from Janus about that, but he does get a big cartoon wrecking ball to smash the whole thing into smithereens.

He does burn the recliner though. And the plastic-covered couch. They deserved it.

The latex gloves snap on as Roman sits on the edge of the tub with a grunt. He picks up the rest of the kit and sets it on the stool.

”Do you know what it’s about this time?”

“Someone said something about how immature Thomas is being about criticism and how he can’t take care of things, something like that.”

“Why did it manifest as acne, then?”

”I don’t know, maybe something about how teenagers who are hormonal and don’t really know how to take care of their skin get acne?”

Remus snorts. “Do people still not understand that acne happens and can happen to anyone regardless of age?”

‘Apparently not.”

“Well, they can go lick the Kraken’s crack.”

“Ew, Remus.”

“Just trying to keep the mood light.” He picks up one of the cotton swabs and a paper towel and leans down. “I’m gonna try and clean up some of the wet stuff first, okay? Then we can actually get onto some relief.”

“You’re not gonna pop any of them, are you?”

“I don’t think so. At least not right now.”

”Because I really don’t want this to scar.”

Remus hums, carefully running the swab over a particularly inflamed part of his cheek. “Can you give me a pain rating?”

”Like a 6? It’s not that bad but it’s not a pain I’m used to it’s…freaking me out.”

“Understandable, have a nice day. If it ever gets too much, let me know and we’ll switch to a cool pack, okay?”

Roman hums as Remus goes to work. A pile of discarded swabs and other trash accumulates at Remus’s elbow as he works patiently around the various, uh, ‘zones.’ They have to stop a few times when it gets to a point where Roman’s whole face just aches, waiting for it to subside enough that Remus can keep going.

“There are a couple down here that look like they’re ready to go, do you want me to just get ‘em out?”

”Be careful.”

“Sure, yeah. If it starts to hurt lemme know and I’ll back off right away.”

He gets a few of them, a few more putting up too much of a fight so he leaves them be. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roman heroically stop two or three whimpers before he lightly jabs him in the stomach and tells him to knock that posturing shit off, he doesn’t need it here.

“…thanks, Re.”

“I told you, it hurts too much, I stop.”

“I know.” He shifts on the tub. “I think it’s just…hard to remember.”

Remus frowns, glancing up at him. Roman fiddles with the hem of his prince costume.

“You know…with the others?”

”No. I don’t know, Ro.”

“They don’t—they’re—they want Princey, Prince Roman. Not…the rest of this.” He waves his hand to indicate the cotton carnage. “So it’s hard to…”

He trails off when he sees the expression on Remus’s face.

“What?”

”You mean they don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“That this—“ he waves at Roman— “happens to you. Any of it.”

“I mean, they know I’m the Ego and it makes sense that I get hurt when Thomas feels bad, but—“

”But not how much.” Roman won’t meet his gaze. “Fuck, Ro.”

“…it’s complicated.”

“Shit, no, I’m not—look at me, Ro. I’m not mad at you. I’m just—this wasn’t what I’d hoped.”

Roman frowns. “What do you mean, what you hoped?”

Remus sighs. This is turning into way more of a conversation than he’d ever anticipated. Glancing around, he picks up the cold pack and hands to to Roman before taking a seat on the counter. His legs swing and kick at the cabinets with a quiet thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk.

“When the Split happened, and we went to the Dark Sides, I…dunno, I guess I thought it would be…better.”

“Because we were separated?”

“What? No, no, because I had the stuff like Deceit and Anxiety with me, so they couldn’t make any of this stuff worse—not that they would,” he says when Roman opens his mouth to protest, and wow, have they come a long way, “but just ‘cause…well, yeah. You had Logic and Morality, who were—doesn’t that make sense? That they would be able to help?”

Roman sighs. He picks at the edge of the ice pack. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Logan’s thing is object impermanence, you know that.” Remus winces in sympathy. “But having someone tell you something isn’t real when you can feel it and it is real, to you, that’s not…that’s not helpful. It’s better if he just goes right to Thomas than coming to me.”

“And Patton?”

Roman lets out a humorless huff. “Thomas is feeling bad and Patton is Thomas’s feelings. How do you think that normally goes?”

…yeah, probably not great.

“It’s not all bad,” he continues, softer now, “they’re at least good when I tell them I don’t want to be disturbed. They don’t ask questions if I tell them I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That feels suspiciously like the bare minimum.” Roman shrugs. “I know I literally just said the opposite, but do Janus and Virgil…?”

“They’re both better at comforting the others. It’s okay, Re, I have you. I really only want you when it’s…bad like this.”

“Me? Why?”

“You get it.”

Remus chuckles, getting back up and picking up the next tool. “That simple, huh?”

“Sometimes it’s just that simple.”

”Aw, I love you too, Roro. You’re the specialist baby brother any Side could ever ask for.”

“You—what the hell do you mean, ‘baby brother?’”

“You’re the baby brother.”

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. Now hush so I don’t accidentally poke your eye out.”

“I’m gonna get you back for this.”

“Oh, I’m so scared about that. Now hold still, Roro, let’s get this out of the way so you can feel better.”

“…love you.”

“I love you too.”

+1.

The Imagination is upset. Roman feels it the second he steps foot through the door and forgoes his normal prince costume for a rougher tunic and boots, strapping his sword to his hip and an emergency pack to his back. The wind blows frigid and punishing over the grass as he starts down the trail, squinting through the dust clouds whipping up around him. The clouds frown around the edges of the tree line, darkening to a stormy black near the edge of the coast. As he nears the black cliffs, rocks crumble beneath him and tumble into a churning sea.

He edges carefully around the craggy rock face, keeping his movements light and careful. Spray whips him in the face as thunder rolls in the distance. The chill near rips his fingers from their precarious handholds. He grits his teeth and keeps going, even as the wind howl so loudly his ears near split from the pain.

There, a little ways down the cliff, is a small cove. He inches his way around the edge of the bluff and drops onto a larger path leading him along the coast. There isn’t any sand here, only rough and unyielding stone. Froth and foam given them gleaming white teeth as the waves churn furiously around the mouth of the sea. He follows the path down, down towards he massive cracks in the sheer rock face, one eye on the black water below him. Despite being so close to the shore, there’s no sign of a bottom and he doesn’t want to risk how deep it is. There’s no telling what current might rip him into the open ocean if he falls in.

The cove is shaped like a spear’s point, the crack in the cliff at its very point as though some massive weapon had shattered the rocks themselves. As Roman nears it, the shadow at the base of the path slowly grows more and more defined, until he realizes that it’s a path through the cliff. The cove is an inlet leading into a hidden sea cave with a vast black lake in its center. Roman peers up at the glistening wet walls, hand on the wall as the wind whistles angrily by.

The water moves. He looks down. Something massive slips just underneath the surface, sending ripples to the shore. He crouches down and sees a huge shape getting closer and closer to the surface. An eye the size of a dining table glares up at him through the water and long arms with rows and rows of hooks reach up toward him.

“Ollie, it’s me. It’s Roman.”

The Kraken pause. The hooked arms retreat and he pokes his head up, letting out a mournful burble. Roman reaches over and taps the water. One of his other arms comes up and Roman pets soothingly along the skin.

“What’s the matter, buddy? What’s going on?”

Ollie burbles again and Roman suddenly realizes why the hooked arms were the ones to reach for him. Beneath the surface, the Kraken’s arms form a cradle of sorts, holding something close to the Kraken’s massive body. As the water shifts and ripples, the thing comes closer and closer to surface, slowly moving to reveal its precious cargo.

And there, nestled in the Kraken’s grip, covered in his own writhing tentacles, is Remus.

“Oh, Re,” Roman murmurs as his brother twitches and whimpers, “what happened? Who did this?”

Ollie burbles again, holding him out, and Roman balances on the edge of the shoreline and stretches to hold on. The Kraken lifts him up and into the cradle too, letting him touch Remus’s frigid skin and shake him awake.

“Re? Re, wake up, it’s okay, I’m here to help.”

The tentacles writhe as Remus stirs, blinking through a pained haze up at Roman. “…Ro?”

“Hey, Re, it’s me. It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. What happened?”

“Thoughts got too loud.” A tentacle leaves a thick trail of slime across his arm and he shudders. “Sorry.”

“What could you have to be sorry for?”

“‘S gross.”

“You stop that,” Roman chides gently, running his fingers through Remus’s wet hair, “I don’t care if something’s gross, I care if it’s hurting you.”

Remus whimpers, clutching at one of Ollie’s arms. The Kraken squeaks back, trying in vain to warm him up, but there’s only so much he can do in this freezing cave. Roman glances around and bites his lip.

“Does it feel better in the water? Is that why you came down here?”

“Yeah. Ollie came and f-found me.”

Roman pats the worried Kraken. “What do we need to do? Is it like caring for Ollie’s arms?”

“N-no. Like helping the jelly—jellyfish with the twisted—twisted ones.”

He’ll bet just about anything that this frigid water isn’t helping Remus do that, and it’s not like Ollie has opposable thumbs. He goes to slide into the water himself but Ollie chirps in alarm, hoisting them higher.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m trying to help.“

Remus shakes his head, more slime trailing across his shivering body. “Too cold for you.”

“Well, then it’s definitely too cold for you. Can we get you somewhere warmer?” Remus curls up a little more. “What about that pool near the glowstone trees?”

“That’s all the way on your side.”

“Ollie can take you. I’ll meet you over there.” Remus stays quiet. Roman leans down and brushes the wet hair from his eyes. “What else is bothering you, Re?”

Two of the tentacles glob onto Roman and start leaving trails of slime across his tunic. Remus whimpers and reaches out a hand to yank them away. It’s no use; the roiling mass just keeps smearing slime onto Roman as they try to pull him closer, no matter how hard Remus shoves them away.

Oh.

“Re, you’re not too gross. You’re not going to ruin anything. I want you to come with me so I can help you. I care about you. Let me help, please?”

It takes a painfully long moment for Remus to peek up at him and nod. Roman can’t stop the way his shoulders sag in relief and he sits up, patting Ollie’s arm as the Kraken burbles happily.

“You…you really wanna help?”

“Of course I wanna help you, Re, you’re my brother.”

“Okay.”

“Have Ollie take you over to the pool, okay? I’ll meet you there.”

“How are you gonna get there?”

“I have my ways.”

Remus grumbles and he sounds just enough like his normal self that Roman has to reach down and ruffle his hair, no matter how much Remus squawks about it. He climbs back off to the shore and watches Ollie sinks below the surface before he makes his way out to the ocean proper. Taking the charm from beneath his tunic, he closes his eyes and concentrates.

A screaming cry and the massive thudding of wings splits the wind.

Roman’s dragon lands just on the other side of the bluffs and he climbs on, taking off and soaring over the stormy sea. The dragon calls out over the waves and far beneath, he can see the shape of Ollie swimming through the depths. The clouds begin to part as they near the opposite coast, sun rays splitting the worst of the storm as the glowing trees appear on the horizon.

Roman’s dragon sets him down just on the edge of the shimmering pool. He pats its snout and it huffs, lying down on the sun-warmed grass and closing its eyes. As he walks toward the pool and begins to take off his boots, he spots Ollie’s shade moving through the inlet into the warmer water. He chuckles at the way the water vibrates with the Kraken’s pleased rumble.

Clad in just his boxers, he slips into the water and through the tangle of arms to draw Remus into the warmth. Remus immediately tuns and clings to him like a limpet, shivering from the temperature change.

“I know, I know,” Roman murmurs as he starts to work his hands patiently through the mass of tentacles, “just hold onto me. I can still kind of stand here, I’ve got you.”

”You gonna take care of me?”

“Yeah, Re, I’m gonna take care of you.”

He’s rewarded with a sleepy hum and Remus snuggles into him. “You’re the best.”

“No, you’re the best. The best baby brother anyone could ever ask for.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Remus might mutter an am not back, but it’s muffled by his tired slump into Roman’s arms. Roman just chuckles. He’s sure it’ll come up again at some point.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #sympathetic remus

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brandstifter-sys · 3 months ago

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Sort of My head canon for sander sides that Roman is the older twin lol. Like he’s refer to Remus as his “baby brother” and Remus is just like “dude stfu stop EMMBARRESING MEEE”

Roman:Come here baby bro 😚❤️💕🥰

Remus:BLEH OMFG NO STOP ISTG PLEASE

(Specifically does this in front of the others to embarrass him cuz older twin energy)

I feel like Remus, being the gremlin that he is, would counter Roman by saying something like

Remus: Call me a baby again and I will shit my pants and you can change my diaper like a good big bro!! And make sure you use the talc baby powder, it carcinogenic!! ={P

Solid twin energy between these two

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #ngl i tend to see remus as older usually...bc personal reasons #but damn if he's not chaotic little brother coded sometimes #freagra

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spoondoodles · 8 months ago

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I HAVE BEEN CONVINCED OF THE LOGINCE AGENDA

#spoondoodles #sanders sides #logan sanders #sanders sides fanart #ts sides #tss #roman sanders #logince #some HS AU i guess???? idk i was just vibing after reading multiple logince hs aus and they got in my head #just the dynamic of the flamboyant extrovert drama gay adopting his pet introverted nerd is v good imo #in the au in my mind logan and patton were childhood friends but roman befriended logan via annoying him and now they're low key inseparabl #everyone sees it but them b/c they have shared insecurity issues lmaoo they're too oblivious unfortunately #virgil is 5 seconds from snapping at any given moment but knows they'd never believe him if he told them they're in love #patton has a scrapbook of their school years together and so many are photos of logan and roman sleeping on each other #remus just enjoys teasing his brother and chemistry bestie over their obvious crushes they've separately sworn him to secrecy over #i think janus is the one that eventually gets thro to one of them tho idk how yet #anyway! more doodles incoming when my new tablet pen comes in i may have broken it during this drawing ;-;

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do-not-consume · 4 months ago

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Sanders Sides predictions!! (On my burner account just in case anyone takes this too seriously) this is just for fun, don't sue me. (Includes all characters... Uhh in some form, there is no violence except threatened and I do realize at least some of it could never happen due to being too complicated to film in an apartment.) It starts very vague and then gets to dialogue for the really good part. DLDR

The video starts with Thomas. He's really struggling to put together a video. Logan immediately jumps to the opportunity to talk about the healthy schedule he proposed. Patton is summoned pretty early (pops up for a pun) but after he stays uncharacteristically quiet. When he's pushed, he admits he'd rather be quiet than wrong.

Logan assumes it's an anxiety problem then and summons Virgil. Who, for some reason, is avoiding Thomas like the plague. He tells them he has nothing to do with it, which immediately calls up Janus. Virgil leaves asap. Janus explains that, actually, he's not here because of Virgil, he's here to watch what Remus is about to do. Turns out Remus has been walking around all excited about this new change in process that's supposed to happen today and since he wasn't in his room, Janus figured he would find him up here. But there's no Remus.

Janus also looks confused as to why nobody went to get Roman. Logan admits he still doesn't like him very much and would have preferred if he stayed out of the picture for what is clearly a Patton related problem, because Patton is very soft spoken right now and Roman would just talk over him like he always does (and he had plenty screentime in the last video anyway). Both Thomas and Patton feel too bad about last time to talk to him first. But alright, if it will help the case, we'll summon him... Exept he doesn't show up. Thomas isn't scared, he's got complete creative block.

Roman must've ducked out.

They decide pretty quickly that they should go to his room (at least once Janus reminds everyone that they don't know where Remus is and what he could do if he's alone with Roman)

So they get into his room.. but it's dark. There are torches on the walls, beautiful paintings of Prince Roman, slaying the Dragon Witch, slaying on the stage, royal portraits of him and Mrs Snuffles. A single painting of two young boys, playing together in the garden, one dressed in black and one dressed in white.. And there's a throne.

"Well well, look who decided to finally show up." A man gets up from the throne. His voice sounds ice cold. And as he steps down into the light of the torches, they turn green. And they see a man with a big crown, worthy of a king, with a white streak in his hair and a sword by his side.

Janus looks like he'd just seen a ghost. "We have to leave. Right now. This isn't safe for any of us"

"Awwwh, Janus," the man before them slips into a Remus-like voice, walking closer and closer"don't spoil the fun." His voice turns cold once again. "You know.. I've been thinking about what you said to me last time we met. That I'm just the same as my brother. That we're both evil and cruel.. and it hurt me. It hurt me very very deeply," he grabs Janus by the cape. Others try to help him but he dismisses them. "I never wanted to leave my room again, how much it hurt. I couldn't believe you would say something like that... Something so.. true. I was too blind to see it before, but you were right. I am just as bad, as my brother is. And if I'm just as bad.. there's no reason to stay split apart."

Logan finally gets between him and Janus. He lets him go willingly. "Falsehood. You all have your own specific purposes in this system. So please, Roman-" a deep chuckle interrupts him

"Roman? Oh, haha, no. Roman's dead now. Me and my brother are one once again, no prince, no duke, but King. No Roman. No Remus. I am King Romulus, and you will address me as such. Now, get out of my room. Before I feed you to Mrs. Sniffles."

Behind the throne, a large plume of smoke emerges.

"Well, that ain't a cat" Patton is still quiet, staring down a giant silhouette of a dragon witch rising up.

#This is honestly SUCH a wild tangent I'll go nuts if I get literally anything correct #I've had this cooking in my head for literal years I'm just setting it down now in case I do actually call it #Sanders Sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides theory #Sanders Sides predictions #Romulus Sanders #Dark Roman Sanders

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dndeceit · 1 month ago

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Fander Fic Rec Friday (#6)

(Borrowers and Tinies Edition)

Tiny Tenants by KieraElieson Borrowers AU (Gen, Analogical-ish) Rating: T In a world where borrowers are unfortunately known to the world, Logan slowly earns the trust of first one, and then a growing number of tiny roommates. Notes: One of my comfort re-reads. This was one of the first fics I read in this fandom (before I was even properly in the fandom, really). It was also probably the first fic I ever read with Janus.

Infinitesimal by callboxcat Borrowers AU (Gen) Rating: T Logan and Roman are roommates who happen across a very badly abused (and tiny) Patton one day on the beach. A lot of mistakes are made before understandings are reached. Meanwhile, in the walls of the same building, Virgil lives with his overprotective brother, Emile. Notes: This one is technically a Littles AU, not a Borrowers AU, which I appreciate because I never actually read the borrowers books, but I did watch the Littles cartoons when I was a kid. Also, the tails just make everything better.

Turn Tail and Run by OreoOverlord Borrowers AU (Gen) Rating: G Patton is a kid who rescues a very tiny naga from his cat. Janus is...confused by the behavior of this human who caught him. Note: This one is really cute.

A Little Misunderstanding by Theatersweetheart Borrowers AU (Gen) Rating: G Logan has built a shrink-ray. Unfortunately he has shrunk himself. While he's working out the solution to this problem, he makes the acquaintance of a roommate he didn't realize he had. Meanwhile, Patton is a little concerned about the his missing human, but at least he has another borrower to talk to. Notes: This one is part of a collection. Probably a lot of other very good stories in here, but this is the one I remember. Took a couple hours hunting it down, specifically, because it's fun.

Time from Inside the Clock by Random_Sanders_Sides_Gt Borrower AU/Timeloop AU (Gen) Rating: G Virgil is a borrower who has just had the misfortune of being captured by the human he lives with. Except then he wakes up and it never happened. Given a second chance to avoid being discovered by Roman, Virgil...fails. And he fails again. And again. And again... Notes: This combo of tropes is just really, really interesting.

Sanders Family by KaytiKitty Borrower AU Rating: G Thomas and Dee are brothers (despite living in a world where Dee is legally his pet). They move into a new home that (unknown to them) already hosts a different family. One that doesn't believe that Dee could possibly be safe in the human's care. Notes: The awkward hijinks of trying to rescue someone from a situation they do not need rescuing from.

WIPs

Pay no attention to the sounds in the walls by RocRolWriter Borrowers AU (Gen) Rating: T Janus is injured rescuing the twins from a trap, and winds up falling into Logan's hands in their place. Janus has every intent of keeping Logan from finding out about the younger borrowers and biding his time until he can escape. Roman and Remus have other ideas. Notes: Inspired by Tiny Tenants, but more focused on Janus and the twins. Also, all the borrowers are part animal. The twins are little disaster rats, and it's adorable.

Devil on Your Shoulder by KieraElieson Borrowers AU (Gen) Rating: T Virgil is a neglected foster kid. Janus is a borrower doing what little he can to look out for him. Revealing the existence of borrowers is very much against the rules, though. Good thing Virgil is convinced that Janus is the devil that lives on his shoulder. Notes: I love the reversal of the tiny character being the protective one. Their relationship in this is so sweet.

in sickness and in health by delimeful Borrowers AU (Gen) Rating: T Pretty typical borrowers sickfic of a tiny roommate helping out an ailing human in secret...except for the whole part where borrower!Virgil was raised by a murder cult. Notes: The worldbuilding around the borrower cult is so fucking interesting, even before you get into the drama and misunderstandings that happen because of it.

mere monstrosity by delimeful Borrowers AU (Gen) Rating: T Virgil is a small spider person living in the walls of a home shared by Logan, Janus and Patton. Then two borrower brothers move in and misunderstandings are had. Notes: Probably one of the only fics where borrowers are the ones behaving badly. (Well, Janus is a bit of a menace, but whatever.)

I just really, really like borrowers AUs, but more than that, they're what drew me into Sanders Sides. I'd read a few in another fandom, and it led me into a pretty intense binge. While reading every one I could find in any fandom, I noticed that there were a lot for Sanders Sides. Which isn't always enough to make me curious enough to go check out a new fandom, but the names of the characters (their roles, specifically) were interesting. And then of course there was one of them named Deceit, who seemed to have a recurring theme of snakes popping up across so many of these different AUs... Now that made me curious.

And the rest was history...

#fic rec #fander fic rec friday #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #rec list #borrower au #diaryndeceit

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author-chan06 · 1 month ago

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Remrom Trick or Treat!!

Hello, anon! I’m so glad to have a trick or treater, so I spun the wheel I’m using and… Treat it is! And for you I have a fic, filled with pining, supernatural creatures, found out secrets, and a happy ending! Pairing: Remrom/ Roman Sanders/Remus Sanders Wordcount: 2,848 A/N: This was supposed to be short. O-o What happened??? I think I just really lovedddd writing Fae Roman and doing world building and so… this happened. I hope you guys like this too, since I had way too much fun with it ahah Tws: Possessiveness, Codependency, Worry about being Abandoned or Hated, Implied and or Referenced Supernatural Bigotry and Hatred

Hidden Underneath

Summary: Roman gets turned into a fae, and struggles with the way this has changed him while trying to keep it from his brother who he is in love with and who makes his fae instincts go feral.

“Okay,” Roman whispers to himself, staring at the mirror and taking a deep breath, “I’ve got this. Everything will be fine. Remus has always been fine with the strange and absurd, and I’m his brother, it is not as if he will think me some kind of monster.”

Roman’s reflection shimmers as if covered in water or as if the mirror is mesmerized, something otherworldly peeking out from behind his eyes as he runs a hand over his skin and notices how any blemishes or scars or roughness that were there before have simply vanished, leaving him soft and kind of warm, as if he’s never even set foot in danger or as if he effortlessly glided through life without so much as a scratch. He remembers enough ridiculous dares to counter that though, and it just makes him panic even more, wondering how he’s going to explain this to anyone. And—

Oh Hera, how is he even supposed to ever look away from the mirror when he looks like this?

Truly, staring at himself is almost hypnotic now. His skin shines and his eyes seem to glow a stunning red. And he can almost hear music rising in his head. If he just presses his hand against the mirror, it would go through, he knows, the other fae would be there, and they could dance for years, they could shimmer and shine and play so many tricks on the humans nearby, he could be everything for millennium—

“Ro! I know you’re vain, but you’ve been ‘getting ready’ for like two hours, and if you don’t hurry, I’m throwing a molotov cocktail at the church!”

Roman jolts, curses falling from his lips as he stumbles backwards— he only barely registers that they aren’t English curses as he turns to the door and glares at it. He quickly turns his words to English again to yell back, “I’m almost done! Remus, you promised no more fires this year! Don’t dishonor yourself, keep to your word and wait a minute!”

He takes another glimpse of himself in the mirror, and swallows as the call of the otherworld swells into something almost too much to resist— a Siren song that promises everlasting desires and excitement abounds, anything and everything and nothing and he wants it, he wants— But he rips himself away, dropping his eyes to the ground and swinging the door open.

Remus is standing outside, hand already curled around a bottle— though, Roman does note with relief, it is not a molotov— as he looks Roman up and down and his lips twist into a grin, “Looking good, Ro! Guess all that time wasn’t a total waste.”

A glamor covers all his less human extremities and aura, and though it itches, Roman leaves it on, only letting some of the more just uncanny valley vibes be felt, just enough that he feels a bit off.

That sure is one way to explain this transformation, and all of the ways that it has affected him.

Roman sighs, and cocks his hip out, letting his hand sit there as he looks pointedly at the bottle, “We weren’t supposed to be drinking tonight.”

Remus doesn’t know that Roman made that rule because he thinks it’ll be hard to explain his new found ability to drink five entire glasses of hard whiskey without as much as becoming tipsy or gaining one wobbly leg. But Roman has really been hoping he wouldn’t question it, since Roman has never been much of a drinker anyway— he was always quite the lightweight— He should have known that was a foolish hope.

“C’mon, Ro,” Remus whines, throwing an arm around Roman’s shoulder, “Don’t be such a stick in the mud! It’s Halloween, don’t we deserve to let loose? It’s basically the supernatural’s holiday! Their fucking— their spooky type of fucking Christmas!”

Roman tenses, but he doesn’t push him off, if anything he finds himself leaning into it, the scent of ocean and fire engulfing him at the same time that feelings of amusement excitement and something almost warm hot bubbling need want need slam into him, sliding under his skin and making him shiver.

He tries to ignore it, and to ignore the way that the touch feels different in a way that Roman cannot quite classify, in a way that’s hard to explain, in a way that’s inexplicably more.

Roman shakes himself and lets out a sigh, though it feels forced, “Even if that was true, that means nothing for you. You are not supernatural, Remus. And we still have school tomorrow. You will regret it when you are confused— yet again— about how you ended up face first in the forest with a pack of werewolves, and haven’t finished your homework.”

“Now I know you’re full of it,” Remus grins, “I don’t regret anything about that. Those guys— and the Enby one, oh fuck that one fucked fun— were my best lays of this decade, Ro-Bro!”

Roman swallows down the flash bang of anger that bursts across his skin, having to yank Remus closer— he starts walking to make up for it— to stop Remus from noticing the way his eyes flare, his teeth baring themselves as if to bite him into shutting up about them. The pull also has the added benefit of getting Remus closer to him— so everyone knows they’re together, he thinks sharply— though he didn’t do it with that in mind, and it’s ridiculous really. Roman has never been the jealous type; especially not with Remus. He didn’t have a need to be; ever.

But oh he feels it now, and he’s sure he’s projecting it as strong as the smell of Remus’ faux cologne.

If anyone nearby has a sense for supernatural elements then they definitely felt that sharp spike, and will probably still be able to sense the angry type of biting look away stay away mine mine mine that he can feel surrounding them as they make their way outside, and for once since the disaster that started this, Roman is glad that Remus hadn’t been involved; he isn’t sure how he would explain this strong urge to him without outing himself as having feelings that he knows he should not. Though he may have been drumming up the courage for that talk before, now… Now Roman is not quite so sure that is a good idea.

“Yes, they may have been good,” The growl in his throat is hard to talk around, and he suddenly has quite the admiration for other supernaturals who he knows from experience have learned to work around these limitations and use them to their advantage. “But it was not a good situation, do not kid yourself. One of their claws slashed through your sternum like tissue. I do not want to spend another after Halloween morning in the hospital, or urgent care.” It had been excruciating, terrifying, and of course the first thing that Remus had said when he’d woken up, cotton mouthed and stitched up:

“So, who cleaned me out? Cause I know there was a lot of cum, and I don’t feel it anymore, kinda a shame—” Roman’s pillow hit his face before he could say more and Remus laughed, coughing as doctors and nurses rushed in and glared at Roman.

He’d dropped the pillow, but he had never apologized. And Remus never asked him to either.

“Okay maybe it wasn’t a good night,” Remus finally concedes, his grin not faltering for a minute as he curls an arm around Roman’s waist and the night air hits their faces. The cold openness of the air tastes like salt and dry ice, and it’s strange, because he doesn’t exactly feel cold, nor does he start to shiver, or gain goosebumps, but he does feel the chill settle over his skin, forcing him to seek warmth in his brother's side, his skin a light warmth against Roman’s, his eyes a burning sensation against the chill. “But this is just some wine! No claws will be near my dick— or ribs— tonight!”

A vampire— one that looks kind of familiar but he finds that they’re too slippery to recognize, as if all of their colors and limbs are curling around themselves, their scent and look not distinguishable between the rest of the world, and that’s alarming, because he should know them, he should, the feeling of it is right on his tongue, but he cannot— does a double take at them, and Roman narrows his eyes— panic and protective instincts surging in his chest and into his aura, until the supernatural ducks away, clearly deciding that whatever they want or need simply isn’t worth the risk of setting him off.

His breathing shutters, something terrifyingly satisfied rising in his chest that he tries to ignore as Remus continues to ramble at his side, “— If anything I’ll have some flippers around me if you know what I mean,” He wiggles his brows and Roman blinks, brows furrowing as he looks over at his brother.

“No, actually. I do not know what you mean.”

“Ro,” Remus practically deadpans, “That mermaid I’ve been flirting with for months now? You know the one that was in my Interpersonal Comm Class, and did that whole speech at the supernatural rights rally talking about how the school needed to have better ways for them to get around in water if they wanted or had some type of emergency; the one that you specifically called: A Cutiepie? You know, that one?”

Patton Hart, Roman remembers, his stomach twisting, because— yes, he had called him that, and he doesn’t even disagree now— Patton is objectively the sweetest creature on campus, and has light brown hair that matches his eyes, and a face that’s soft and round like mermaids often have, and he has seemingly never so much as had an argument with anyone about anything— but something about Patton is now unsettling, as if something underneath his skin is rebelling against the idea of Patton being just sweet without something wrong going on. As if he’s now inherently more suspicious than he was just a few days before.

The idea of Remus anywhere near Patton makes Roman’s blood boil, and he has to violently push away the urge that tells him to curl around Remus tight enough that he cannot move, that he cannot leave and go see a mermaid—

“Are you sure that is a good idea?” Roman chokes out instead, reeling from the intrusive, strange, out of character, borderline hateful bigoted thought that has jumped from his mind. “Don’t mermaids have a curfew? I thought they were supposed to be back in the water by twilight? Are you saying,” Don’t, don’t, don’t. “You’ll be going back into the water with a dro— Patton?” He stares wide eyed at the ground at that slip, because that’s something he would never say, not in a normal situation, not even if the mermaid was cruel, he would never be so cruel back himself, but oh he really cannot stand the idea of Remus with a mermaid, with another supernatural that is not himself— And it feels like ants under his skin; denying himself the ability to tell Remus as such and make sure he stays with him, to make sure that everyone knows he’s taken—

And surely, he would be better company, he can do so much more than Patton, he knows Remus so much more than Patton

He can give Remus so much more; the Earth, the Land, the Sky. He can show him the highest peaks of the world and shield him from all harm. He can immortalize him in the most beautiful of ways. He—

Remus pokes Roman in the arm and he jolts, eyes swinging over to catch his brothers, who looks vaguely concerned, hand looping around his elbow as he leans against him and asks, “Bro, are you okay? You’ve been kinda… spacey tonight.” He pauses, “And yesterday too, actually.”

“I—” He doesn’t know how to say it. How does one tell their twin brother that they were tricked into becoming a fae? A fae that has so little control over their powers and instincts that even a slight look in their direction makes his aura scream to look away from them. A supernatural that many of the world despises. A creature that is known for being immoral and tricking people into sinning for amusement or pure boredom. How can he say such a thing, to admit to such a thing, to such power. Will Remus think he’s horrible for having it? Will Remus be scared of him? It makes his hands shake.

Roman is, it seems, at a crossroads. Though this one is more complex than two different paths to take, and all of them seem to run right to Hell.

Perhaps finding a crossroads demon would be easier than this. … Not that Roman believes in those— he knows the history of those myths and how stereotypical they are— but he now understands why so many, humans and supernaturals alike, have seeked them out.

Roman curls his fingers around his brother's arms, savoring the warmth as his resolve wavers and then hardens. This may be the last time they ever touch, after all, and so he wants to remember it, to imprint it in his skin, for as long and as well as he can.

“Something happened,” Roman starts with, both of the brothers stopping in the alley they had been cutting through to get to the house party, “A couple days ago. On Wednesday, I believe?” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t really matter, but yes, I was approached by a, by—” His face flushes in embarrassment, and he takes a breath to try again.

“A fae?” Remus offers, brow quirked in amusement.

“Yes, thank you,” Roman rolls his eyes, “I was approached by a fae and—”

Roman freezes, stomach plummeting as his heart jumps, rounding on Remus and staring as his brother laughs, leaning into him. The flush of his face burns up his skin and he hisses when he asks, “How long have you known? Why didn’t you say anything! I’ve been fretting about talking about this for days, struggling with what to do daily and how, and if I would lose you, and you—” His voice cracks and Remus finally stops laughing slowly, sighing as he pulls Roman closer and they tumble to the ground of the alley way. Roman’s nose scrunches but he shifts closer to Remus, and clutches at him hard, almost desperate in the way he has to stamp down the urge to bite and press them so close their ribs knock together, to get the reassurance he wants and bind him in some way he cannot escape—

“Sorry, Ro,” Remus mumbles, “I didn’t really know how to bring it up either. Thought you would eventually, and hey you did!” Roman sends him a withering glare and he giggles awkwardly. “Right, but uh, yeah, I kinda was gonna drop some hints tonight at the party, and see how you reacted but uh,” He glances around the alleyway, “I don’t… think I’m gonna be doing that anymore.”

“And you’re not gonna be going home with Patton either.” Roman growls, finding that now that that secret is out, his lips feel loser, the glamor shimmering away just enough that Remus is hit with the overwhelming aura that now surrounds Roman.

It also lets Roman smell him more thoroughly.

Excitement. Curiosity… Desire.

Remus curls his own hand around Roman’s neck and leans closer, his eyes shiny and dark at the same time. The smell of fire rises with the tide and Roman’s chest feels warm warm warm and his fingers itch to touch, and with the way Remus is looking at him, he knows he can.

He scrambles to press his fingers to his brother's stomach and feel the way it moves underneath. Mortal and alive and right here with him. Not gone, not angry, because Remus knew the whole time, and still invited him out; he hadn’t treated him any differently, he hadn’t had any problem with it whatsoever. Roman falls a little more in love, and kisses Remus right on the lips, swallowing the surprised but excited noise he makes and threading their fingers together beside them, as he breaks out into a giddy grin, canines flashing.

This is going to be confusing and frustrating, surely. Roman still needs to learn how to control his powers and himself, and he still needs to actually get information about how Remus knew about him, to know if anyone else is privy to that information. But for now, Roman is more than happy to just let himself indulge in Remus, and just be fae.

Roman does end up binding Remus to him for eternity— he doesn’t even need to ask.

Remus stays, and he comforts, and Roman… Roman presses kisses to his skin and thanks him for it for eternity, forever grateful to have someone so understanding and so very his.

@remrom-trickrtreat

#remrom #i really had to stop myself from rambling more and more when i started talking about the mermaid thing #because apparently my brain really likes the idea of the fae and mer people having this complex and hatred filled bond because of #their history and their culture #but that’s not supposed to be a big part of the story so i basically had to spray bottle my brain—#this is kinda rambly anyway without that but at least that rambling is part of it by design since ro is dealing with his new senses #he’s being pulled in all different directions (and he already had adhd so—)#proship safe #comship safe #authorchan06.writing #authorchan06.asks

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