#Romulus sanders

[thatssomecore]

Ladies, gentleman, and nonbinary nobility, I give you him. Romulus, or King Creativity, or just King, is the oldest of the of all the sides. He is the leader of the sides and makes sure they are a safe a cared for (cough, cough just Patton and Janus) eventually he gets really attached to them and starts take care of them like a dad (well, he mimics Thomas’ dad , so like tucking them in, feed them, playing with lol) and he takes pride in it. Umm, how did I say this, he acts like Roman but just with no filter lol. Thomas is just a baby (not really, he is 7 and 1/2 but you know what I mean) he doesn’t really know there is “good” or “bad”. He has no sense of knowledge, or understanding of annualizing, or well…. Logic. Yet.

[do-not-consume]

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.

[analoceits]

mourning tea

A03 link

summary: He bit his tongue to stop the spiteful feeling suddenly building in his gut, shaking it off of him like a dog that was freshly hosed down. He was being uncharitable; this was an olive branch, Patton should be appreciative. They were trying to get along more, he had asked for more effort like this, he had no right to be angry or annoyed. Just.. did Janus have to pick today? - - - It’s the anniversary of the day that king died. Things are somber.

note: hi!! when i wrote this fic i forgot that that would also be the twins birthdays just. uh just ignore that for me. pls and thank you <3. uhh enjoy!!

taglist: @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat, @thegoldenduckie

As soon as the bumps in the table cloth settled under Patton's fingers he took a quick glance around the room, and everything was practically flawless. The tea cups were lined up to the inch, the morning sun filtered through the barely parted curtains beautifully, and the tiles were practically glowing in the light. Even if perfection wasn’t achievable, this was close, he thought. He was proud of his work.

(It was too good, though. It couldn’t last. Perfect things rest on a thin line, and they’ll tip and topple with the slightest push of the wind, and even if you try to be gentle dust will seep in with time and either way you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t and-)

And Patton really needed to stop letting his mind wander today.

He cleared his head, taking a deep breath in - unclenching his jaw and unclenching his fists - and a deep breath out - easing the tension from his shoulders and lower back. There, back to focusing. He drew his attention to the little digital clock in the corner of the room and read the time - 7:28 AM. Janus should be here soon, he thought.

Of course he would be, this was Janus’s ideas after all. This.. meeting. The meeting he had proposed after the 5 year anniversary video, the one Patton accepted without missing a beat because he wasn’t paying attention to the date and was just so happy for them to get along. This tea party for grown children.

He bit his tongue to stop the spiteful feeling suddenly building in his gut, shaking it off of him like a dog that was freshly hosed down. He was being uncharitable; this was an olive branch, Patton should be appreciative. They were trying to get along more, he had asked for more effort like this, he had no right to be angry or annoyed.

Just.. did Janus have to pick today?

He shouldn’t blame Janus for the choice, it wasn’t intentional. He doubt any of the other sides remembered, let alone Janus. Thomas was so, so young when it happened; Patton was sure that after all these years he was the only one who even remembered what day it was, really. Who would hold the grief so close but him?

After all these years he could barely remember Romulus’s face himself; he was starting to blur in old pictures as the memory waned. Still, the thought of him - his smile, his patience, his calloused hands - it made his chest ache and always left him dazed. The grief never really left or eased, he just had to grow around it.

Usually, he would spend today curled up with his knees pressed to his chest in the darkest and warmest corner of his room and he would pretend. He would pretend to himself, without telling a soul - that there were four other sides. Virgil, Logan, Janus, and Romulus. He would pretend that nothing had ever gone wrong, as if it would save him the grief.

(It never did.)

It was the only way he could get through this day, at least he thought. Now, though, standing and biting back the sickly aching pain, he thought - just maybe - he could actually survive this. Painfully, but he could make the table and talk to Janus and breath like his lungs were still right, and it’d be fine. He’d numb his wounds and it’d be fine.

As soon as he pulled himself from his thoughts the toasted dinged behind him, to which he rushed over. Two slices, on for him and one for janus. He smeared a healthy helping of butter and jam across the modest breakfast, his hands barely shaking despite himself. He could survive this.

Right as he was setting the dishes on the table, there was a swish of the door and a settling click. Janus. “Oh, it looks perfect, thank you so much dear,” Janus’s voice was sweet and thick like honey, a soothing balm. Patton looked up to thank him and offer him his seat, and he choked on air.

Golden lace dripped down his shoulders across the edge of his capelet, rippling in beautiful waves and interspersed with black teardrop gems. His - what Patton now realized was a dress - faded to a beautiful golden at the end, occasionally dotted with those same black tear drops in am intricate pattern. His bowler hat was replaced for a sun hat - complete with a golden ribbon and a black veil. He looked beautiful.

Patton seemingly stared longer than he thought, because after a moment Janus laughed tensely and he averted his eyes, in what Patton half registered as embarrassment. “It’s alright, dear,” he soothed, “I didn’t expect you to be all fancied up like me - I’m just doing the for fun, anyway. The theatre of it all, you know.”

Patton wasn’t worried about being presentable, not today, but he didn’t dare look the gift horse of Janus ignoring his bright red face in the mouth. Instead, he nodded as firmly as he could and spoke, “thank you, Jan.” With a smile that managed to be only a little awkward. His thoughts were off-topic, severely off-topic.

After one more second of awkward pause, Patton forced himself to move, pulling out Janus’s seat for him and offering it to him with a soft smile. “The foods all still warm,” he promised as Janus settled in the seat and Patton took to his own across from his. Janus gave him a warm smile - with a tint of something else, and Patton tried his best to beam it back, asking “how are you?”

“I’m doing the best I can,” he answered smoothly, blowing on the tea before taking a sip of it delicately. That same odd smile stayed after he drank, “I would ask you the same, but.. it feels a stupid question, considering the day and all.”

It took Patton a long moment to process the words as he stared blankly at Janus. As soon as the implication caught up to him, though, his shoulders seemed to knit together into one entity with how tense he got. Oh. Oh. Janus remembered. He picked today on purpose, didn’t he?

(Briefly, in the back of his mind he finally registered what the emotion lingering behind Janus’s smile was: grief.)

Janus watched his reaction with a mix of concern and mild confusion, a hand half reached out to him like Patton was something volatile to be treated with caution. Something seemed to click in his head, though, the moment after Patton came to his realization, and he quietly asked, “Patton.. you were aware I picked today with intention, weren’t you?”

Patton looked to the side and a gave a small, sad smile, and the lie was slipping out of his mouth before he could even think to stop himself. “I.. just forgot what day it was, I guess that’s why it didn’t register,” he had a mildly forced smile on his face as he spoke.

Janus frowned at him. “.. Patton,” he said slowly and painfully, painfully gently, “you don’t have to lie to me, we both know it’s a good idea to do that.” He said, and despite the sarcastic words - he never seemed particularly snappy with him. All of his motions and words were slow, gentle, like Patton could break with the slightest push.

Patton wrung his hands out tensely, seemingly trying to look anywhere in the room but at Janus. After a tense second of this anti-staring contest or whatever he should call it, he forced out, “I just.. thought you wouldn’t choose a day like this for a tea party, that’s all.” The bitterness in his tone was guttural; unintentional but inevitable.

Before he could stumble out any forced apologies or reassurances to go with the surprisingly harsh words that just escaped him, Janus spoke first. It was a question, a simple one at that. “Ah, would you.. prefer I reschedule? It wouldn’t be a problem, you know.” He asked, still so gentle.

Patton stared at him, and in the thick of his gut he knew the correct answer was probably a ‘yes, please’. It was what he had wanted all along, but now - in a warm kitchen with nice lights and Janus smiling at him so sweetly, spending the rest of the day in his room seemed unbearable. He wasn’t sure he would survive that.

“It’s, uhm.. it’s not bad.” Patton promised, a bit of desperation seeping into his tone, pleading that Janus wouldn’t insist so they could stay like this - lovingly uncomfortable or whatever he could call it. It was better than alone, he realized, so much better than alone.

Luckily, though, Janus seemed to relent with ease, letting out an all too easy, “if you insist.” Patton watched his expression and had a very strange, but comforting thought. Maybe Janus didn’t want to spend today alone either.

With that on his mind, he took a warm drink of the tea. It was sweet in his mouth and down his throat. It was a little nostalgic, too - going over to Thomas’s nanas house when they were nothing but young boys.

When there were just five sides.

The pang of pain ate up the entirety of Patton’s chest with that thought, but before he could speak in an attempt to distract himself, Janus did. Outrunning him yet again, he asked, “what kind of jam is on the bread?”

It was a simple question, but one Patton couldn’t help but giggle at. “Crofters,” he said - then added, leaning closer and whispering as if it was a big secret, “I don’t think Logan will let us buy any other kind.” It was true, in his defense.

Janus smiled and gave an equally hearty laugh at that answer, “I’m not sure why I asked, of course it’s crofters.” After that he took a bite from the toast and smiled with satisfaction, “it’s sweet and toasted just right as well.” Then he gave Patton an oddly soft look, “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, Padre.”

The words were warm, and sweet, and the pain of the day was less in Patton’s chest with that mind. This.. was easier than being alone, wasn’t it? Suddenly, in a warm kitchen with Janus smiling at him like he was the sweetest thing, a warm but dark room was unimaginable.

Despite those sweet thoughts, Patton’s mouth ruined the moment instantly. Before anything normal could be said, he blurted out the thought that had been on his mind since Janus had asked him that little question months ago, “why.. today?”

Janus gave him a surprised stare and Patton cringed, wishing he could take back those two words more than he had ever wished for anything. After a long second, Janus just very politely said, “it felt fitting.”

Patton knew for a fact that he should stop digging there. He had gotten what he wanted, which was Janus to not leave, and so it should be fine. But, staring at him as he stared back, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, “what does that mean?”

Janus sighed and Patton worried it was out of annoyance, but he kept up his polite demeanor nonetheless. “The..” splitting, Patton filled in mentally, “death, of king, seemed to sever the bond between us. So, having the fixing of that bond - or at least the start of it, be on the anniversary felt fitting.”

Patton stared. Death. He hadn’t ever called it a death before because, really, it wasn’t. It wasn’t. Sure, king was gone - but he didn’t die. The twins were still there. If the twins were still there, he was still there, but.. no. The twins weren’t him, were they? He had died.

It was somewhat inevitable that Patton was going to cry today. He was tired, and he was grieving, and he had woken up at an ungodly hour to set up the kitchen. It didn’t make it hurt less, though. He choked out the tears, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars like it would help. 

Patton managed to whisper one, choked word through his tears. “Penance.”

Janus cursed under his breath, awkwardly reaching out and setting a hand across Patton’s arm. “No, no, Patton please,” he begged, “that’s not what I meant. You aren’t guilty, you were seven, this isn’t a punishment. I..” He sighed, giving in, “I was lying. I don’t have any greater reason to this, I just-” he reached for Patton’s hand, intertwining their fingers like he was afraid Patton was going to leave when he spoke, “I just didn’t want to be alone today.”

Patton looked up tentatively, eyes still brimming with tears but expression soft, staring silently for a long, long second, before carefully clamping two of his hands around Janus’s, brushing his thumb over his knuckles. “Oh,” he said before softly adding, “I think thats ok, then. I don’t want to be alone either.”

Janus gave him a soft smile back. The kitchen was warm.

[twofacedbelief]

What if the King didn't think of or call himself that? He was creativity, the Imagination and whatever he was currently telling a story of. It's only after he reappears that Thomas calls him king and the title feels stifling

I need a quick sidetrack for Romulus being the Imagination itself, which is literally such a cool concept. Creativity and Imagination are so closely entwined, that them starting out as the same would make sense. The split was in three, not two. The Imagination is a corpse, a graveyard. The Imagination made Creativity what it is. Hi I could run away with this—

Okay, so to get back on track

It makes sense that Romulus was simply Creativity! The prince and duke are titles chosen to separate Roman and Remus further; to put them into a hierarchy that none of the others are included in. They like their titles, of course, but that's still where they came from. They define themselves by their titles more than their roles, knowing Creativity used to be. different. more.

And then they fuse, and Thomas — who doesn't know where prince and duke came from, why the titles held importance — assumes that this new being must be something more. Must be the king.

Romulus never asked to be king of anything. To have a title is to be limited, and you shouldn't limit creativity, shouldn't limit imagination. But how do you speak up when you've been torn apart and rebuilt, when your life isn't your own, when your existence relies on two broken parts being forced back together?

And do they deserve his name now? Maybe they should call him King, keep him distanced, even if the title makes him sick. But how can he lay claim to Creativity when he's no longer whole?

If it's a King they want, then a King he shall be.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Pray To Me A Little Longer (pt 1/3)

A completely standalone companion piece to Devoted

Part 2.1 Part 2.2 Part 3

Word count: 3,808

Rating: teen

Pairings: none in this part, there will be later

Warnings: amnesia, blood, cannibalism(?), mildly suggestive scenes

~~~START~~~

Logan walked through the woods, completely alone except for the murder of crows that seemed content to hover nearby, he had seen neither hide nor hair of any other forest creatures. He had been wandering for days through the wilderness, and while he had yet to grow weary of walking, he would like to reach his destination… wherever his destination was. He wasn’t certain where he was going, but he was sure he would know it when he saw it.

He wasn’t certain of a lot of things, where he came from, what his mission was, what his name was. He had named himself Logan after the city of Logos from which he had set off some days prior. He wasn’t sure what the first thing he remembered was, just that he had been on a journey to… somewhere.

During the day he would walk along a road that only seemed to exist in his heart, stopping to rest along the banks of rivers and streams. At night, he would lay down under a tree, and when he woke up, there would be one crow nesting in his hair and another curled under his arm. Every now and then he would come across another traveler, but none of them had given him any trouble.

As nightfall came on his fifth day out from Logos, Logan felt compelled to keep going, so rather than lay himself down under a tree, he walked on. A crow nested in his hair anyway and another rested on his shoulder, but neither seemed disturbed that he walked on.

As the moon reached its zenith, full and bright overhead, Logan stumbled upon a temple. The temple was abandoned and in the process of being reclaimed by the forest, but the gaping doorway was clear.

Logan felt himself being drawn towards the doors of the temple. This was his destination, though he did not know whose temple it was, nor how he’d known it was there.

The crows who had hitched a ride on Logan took off before he crossed the threshold of the temple. The rest of the crows watched him from the trees, none of them approaching the doorway to the temple.

Inside the temple was dark, and Logan could not see, still his feet continued on, and he trusted them. They led him deep into the temple until he came upon a chamber lit by the moonlight that drifted in through a skylight. In the center of a chamber, directly below the skylight, was a large tree.

Logan laid down at the base of this tree and fell asleep.

~~~

When he woke in the morning, he found the chamber filled by a pack of sleeping wolves. Two of the wolves had joined him in sleeping beneath the tree while the rest of the pack stuck closer to the walls, farther away from the sunlight filtering in through the skylight.

Distantly, Logan knew that it was uncommon behavior for wolves to allow a stranger to sleep in their den, but he felt no fear. He was in no danger.

With the sunlight now illuminating the chamber, Logan could see that the tree he had been sleeping under had citrus fruits hanging from its branches. The floor of the chamber was all natural, there were patches of grass every now and then, and even a pond that had fresh water flowing in from who knew where for the wolves to drink from. The walls were a dull gray tile interspersed with mud and faded paintings of the citrus fruits. The doorway Logan had entered through was before him, but behind the tree, was another doorway.

Through this new doorway, Logan entered into the inner sanctum of the temple. In the back of the room was a dais raising up a stone altar with wolves carved into it and on either side, large stone bowls of red and green fire. Behind the altar was a mural of a large God wearing a helm, springing from His either side were a God armed with a shield, and another armed with a sword. This had once been a magnificent spiritual center before the temple had been abandoned and suffered from the relentless march of time.

As Logan observed the ceremonial epicenter of the temple, he heard a whining behind him. Before he could turn, a warm, wet nose nudged at his hand.

He looked down to find that both of the wolves that had slept under the tree with him were flanking his sides. It was hard to tell without taking a proper look at the rest of the pack, but these two seemed to be the largest of the wolves. The one on his left had pure white fur except for a streak of black down the center of its face, its fur seemed well kept, and it stared at Logan with blood-red eyes. The wolf on his right had unkempt black fur except for a streak of white down the center of its face, and it stared at him with emerald-green eyes.

“My apologies,” Logan said, startling slightly at the sound of his own voice, he had never heard it before. “I did not mean to disturb your Gods.”

Both wolves stared at him silently.

“I should make an offering,” Logan mused. “Thank Them for allowing me to sleep here.”

He did not have anything worth sacrificing…

There had been some berries out in the woods, perhaps he could sacrifice a bundle of those. He explained as much to the wolves, though he did not know why, and made his way back out of the temple — noting as he went that the temple’s antechamber had two more doorways, one framed by white tile and one by black.

The crows returned as soon as he crossed the temple’s threshold. They cawed warily at the wolves, who were still following Logan, but settled when Logan stroked their feathers. These wolves were the Gods’ wolves, it would not bode well for his bird friends to anger them.

As he had thought, the woods around the temple were littered with berry bushes.

“What berries do you think your Gods would like best?” Logan asked the wolves. They did not respond. “I will select a few of various kinds then.”

The closest berries were some blackberry brambles, so Logan started there. Since he had no basket, he lifted the skirt of his navy robes to form a pocket; the black wolf seemed interested by this development, but when the white wolf nipped at him, he backed off.

Both wolves followed him around the woods as he collected a few of as many different types of berries as he could. The wolves seemed to be at odds with the crows perched on Logan’s shoulder and in his hair, but outright hostility seemed off the table, for the time being, at least.

When at last Logan had gathered what he counted as one hundred berries — ten of each kind he found — Logan returned to the temple. Once again, the crows took off just before he crossed the threshold, but the wolves followed him all the way to the inner sanctum. The rest of the wolf pack was awake in the tree chamber, but none of them seemed interested in Logan as he passed.

Logan laid the berries upon the altar then faltered. He had no idea how to make an offering to Gods, he knew of two prayers, though he did not remember how he knew them, but neither seemed appropriate for this shrine.

Instead, he settled for kneeling at the foot of the dais and folding his hands in prayer.

“Thank you for your hospitality, I hope the berries will be satisfactory.”

Logan sat there with his head bowed for several more minutes, just feeling the energy of the temple and its Gods. When he finally stood, the berries were gone, and so were the wolves. The wolf pack had moved out of the temple in order to conduct their own business, and the black and white wolves that followed Logan around had gone too.

It was just Logan.

He could move on, but he knew this was where he had been going. The Gods had taken his offering, They did not seem to have a problem with him being here, even if he did not know their prayers.

He returned to the antechamber of the temple to find that the torches that lined the walls had been lit, illuminating the room as well as the hallways to either side — if he had needed any more invitation from the temple’s Gods to stay, then he had it now.

Logan chose to venture into the black hall first. The hallway was fairly narrow, wide enough, perhaps, for two slender figures to squeeze through at once, but certainly much more comfortable to file through single file, the arched ceiling of the hall was only a couple of inches above Logan’s own head, though he gathered from his time in Logos that he was taller than most people. The narrowness of the hallway, combined with the dirt murking up the black tiles, gave off the impression of walking through a cave tunnel.

The hallway was relatively short, and it wasn’t long until Logan emerged from the void into another well-lit chamber.

This chamber had a high ceiling, and while it looked like the walls were primarily tiled in black, as Logan’s eyes were drawn upward, it became clear that the tiles were actually ever lightening shades of blue. Cutting across the dark blue tiles were green tiles forming reaching and curling tentacles — as Logan walked across the chamber, he was almost convinced that the tiles on the wall were moving. In the center of the room, directly beneath a mural of the moon painted on the ceiling, was a murky pit, filled with water; Logan did not know how deep the pool was, but somehow, he knew he did not want to disturb the water.

The chamber had two other doorways, one led to what was clearly the abandoned priestesses’s quarters, and the other led to another sanctum, this one just for the God with the Sword and lit only with the green flames. The altar in this sanctum had a great tentacled beast carved into its stone and dried chrysanthemums were laid at its base.

In the priestesses’s quarters, Logan found a kitchen, dusty, but more than suitable once it had been cleaned up. A thought came to Logan’s mind, and he searched the quarters for the appropriate supplies. He found a large pot, a wooden spoon, and a small knife, but no basket or bowls; it was no matter, these would be enough, but the sun would soon set, and Logan had yet to search the white hall.

He walked back through the narrow black hall into the temple’s antechamber. As expected, the sun was hanging low in the sky outside the temple, its orange light shining through the west-facing doorway of the temple, but the lights the Gods had supplied Logan with would be more than sufficient to light his way through the other side of the temple.

The white hall was very similar to black hall in height and width, though the brightness of the white tiles prevented the dirt from feeling too much like a cave. The high-ceilinged chamber, which was topped with a mural of the sun, on the other side of the hall was tiled like a forest, with many peacock feathers giving off the appearance of being watched by many eyes. In the middle of the chamber, a patch of dirt and foliage, allowing a suitable space for the room’s inhabitants — two great, red-feathered peacocks — to nest.

The red-lit sanctum of this side of the temple was dedicated to the God with the Shield. Its altar was decorated with a carved peacock, and at its base sat dried roses.

In these second priestesses's quarters, Logan found a basket; there were no bowls, but there were several cups, which would be more than suitable for Logan’s purposes.

He left these items where he found them and returned to the tree in the center of the temple, when the sun rose the next day, he would prepare a greater offering for this temple’s Gods; but for now, he laid himself to rest at the base of the tree.

For the second night in a row, Logan slept, unknowingly, beneath Romulus’s sacred lemon tree.

~~~

The wolves were back. The rest of the pack continued to pay Logan no mind, but the black and white wolves once again followed him as he got up and prepared for this day’s task. Only the white wolf followed Logan through the white-tiled hall into the Shield God’s sanctum when he went to collect the basket and cups, but both wolves were more than happy to follow him out into the woods.

The crows seemed somewhat less wary of the wolves today, but they still nested protectively in Logan’s hair and on his shoulder as he set about filling his basket with blackberries. The wolves, on the other hand, seemed leery of the ever-growing number of crows watching from the trees.

Eventually, Logan’s basket was full of the ripest blackberries he could find, and as he turned to reenter the temple, a new crow flew up and dropped a leather pouch in his basket. Logan stopped and inspected the pouch; it was a supple leather, with the constellation of the raven embossed on one side. Inside the pouch was a wooden spoon, carved from oak, with a crow carved into the end of the handle.

Logan considered the strange gift for a moment before slipping the leather pouch over his head, the pouch dangled just over his heart.

The crow departed as Logan entered the temple once more, the two wolves following faithfully behind him.

“Do you suppose your Gods will be angered if I take one fruit from Their tree?” Logan asked the wolves thoughtfully. Neither wolf answered, but neither did they try to stop him as he walked up to the tree and picked a single, ripe fruit that hung perfectly at his eye-level — it would suit his purposes well.

Only the black wolf followed Logan through the black-tiled hallway to the priestesses’ kitchen. He watched curiously as Logan used a torch from the wall to light the stove. Logan did not pay the wolf any mind as he set about boiling the berries, juicing the citrus fruit, and allowing his muscle memory to take over where his mind did not know the proper steps.

After several minutes of stirring, Logan frowned, his fruit was not thickening properly. He brought the wooden spoon to his lips and tasted the mixture. Something was not quite right.

The realization came to Logan quickly, and without hesitation, he picked up his citrus knife and sliced the palm of his hand open.

The wolf yelped in surprise and tugged at Logan’s robes, but Logan ignored him, allowing the blood to drip down his hand and into the fruit as he whispered one of the two prayers he knew — it may be inappropriate in the temple of other Gods, but it felt right somehow.

The wolf stopped tugging at his robes and backed off as Logan continued his prayer. By the time he finished his prayer, his bleeding had stopped, and the wound had already started healing. He continued stirring.

Finally, his jam was thickening up properly — a suitable offering for the Gods of this temple.

He divided the jam evenly between three cups. He left two of the cups in the kitchen while he took the third to the Sword God’s shrine, the wolf following him the whole time.

Logan placed the cup of jam on the altar and kneeled at the foot of the dais. He still didn’t know the prayers for these Gods, but he said a simple thanks for the shelter, for the use of their temple, and for the citrus fruit. He asked for longevity for the temple, for the animals therein, and for the citrus tree.

When he was done, the cup was empty, and the black wolf was gone.

The white wolf was waiting for him when he emerged from the Sword God’s side of the temple with the second cup of jam. The wolf followed him into the Shield God’s side, where he placed the cup on the altar, knelt in front of the dais, and prayed.

When he was done, the cup was empty, and the white wolf was gone.

He went back to the kitchen in the Sword God’s side and grabbed the third cup of jam. The wolf pack, still lounging in their den, watched him as he passed, but even without the two strange wolves around him, they didn’t approach.

Logan repeated the same routine of offering the jam to the Gods and thanking Them for Their hospitality, but this time, when he finished, he found a canvas bag and four jars sitting at the foot of the altar. The bag had a red shield and a green sword painted on it, and when Logan opened it, he found it full of sugar.

Logan whispered another thanks to the Gods and gathered up their gifts.

The sun was still high in the sky by the time Logan finished cleaning his pot, spoon, and knife, and since he was cleaning anyway, he decided to take it upon himself to clean up the temple.

He started on the Shield God’s side, gathering a bucket and rags from the priestesses’ quarters and beginning his work by scrubbing the peacock mural. As he washed the dirt away, the tiles began to sparkle in the torch light — even the actual peacocks seemed to brighten and glitter as he worked. He scrubbed and he scrubbed and he scrubbed until the white tiles in the hall were practically reflective, and gold and red flecks were revealed underneath the grime.

He scrubbed until the sun went down, then he returned to the base of the tree to sleep for the night.

~~~

For the third day in a row, Logan woke with two wolves curled around him, and once again, they followed him out of the temple.

On this day, instead of a crow immediately landing in his hair and nesting there, two crows draped a flower crown of blue azaleas and loganberry leaves over his head. One of the two crows then took up residence nestled within the crown while the other perched on his shoulder. The nearby trees were nearly black with crows, and as Logan walked through the forest, a swarm of them would take off, only to land a little ahead of him in a new tree.

When Logan finally stopped to pick berries — loganberries, in honor of the crows’ gift — one particularly brave crow swooped down and landed on the black wolf’s back. The black wolf hesitated for a moment before deciding to lie down and allow the crow to perch on him; when he offered no resistance to the crow, three more swooped down to nest on him as well.

Seemingly jealous of the attention, the white wolf lied down as well, and it wasn’t long until he, too, was covered in crows.

Once again, Logan picked berries until his basket was full, then he headed back for the temple, the wolves and crows following behind.

This time after retrieving a citrus from the tree, he took the berries to the Shield God’s side. Once again, he began to make jam. This time, however, he used the sugar in place of blood — a decision that felt both correct, and incorrect to him.

When the jam was done, he spooned it into each of the four jars and sealed them. The four jars, he thought, must be for a reason, so as he went, he offered one to the Shield God, one to the Sword God, and two at the main shrine. With both the Shield God and the Sword God, by the time he finished his makeshift prayer, he found the jar of jam empty on the altar, but when he offered up the two jars of jam, he finished his prayer to find one jar empty, and one jar full, with a blue azalea sitting atop it, as well as another bag of sugar at the base of the altar.

Logan considered the full jar for a moment. The Gods had given Logan the four jars, and surely They had chosen that number for a reason. The reason did not seem to be for Logan to offer to Them all four. They had topped the jar with an azalea matching the ones the crows had gifted him earlier.

Logan took the wooden spoon from the pouch around his neck and ate the fourth jar of jam at the base of the altar, thanking his Gods the whole time.

His cleaning efforts he focused on the Sword God’s side today. Much like how the white tiles had been flecked with red and gold, the black tiles were adorned with green and silver bits that glittered like strange stars in the black void of the hall.

As he scrubbed at the tentacle mural, he felt something cold and slimy wrap around his bare leg. He looked down in shock, and found a green octopus, about the size of a large house cat, wrapped affectionately around his leg. A trail of water led from the murky pool to Logan’s position at the wall. Unsure of what else to do, Logan reached down and petted the squishy head of the octopus. The octopus wiggled happily before releasing Logan’s leg and crawling back to the pool, where it quickly disappeared into the murk.

In the dark chamber, Logan didn’t realize that the sun had set until the black wolf eventually wandered in and tugged at his robes. The white wolf was waiting for them beneath the citrus tree, and as soon as Logan laid down, the wolf rested his head on Logan’s chest; moments later, the black wolf laid his head on Logan’s stomach. Logan drifted to sleep nestled between the two wolves.

~~~

For the next week, Logan went on with this same routine of gathering berries — different berries every day — making jam, offering three of the jars to the Gods, eating the fourth, restoring the temple back to its former glory, and sleeping beneath the citrus tree between the two wolves. Then, on the tenth day, a change.

Logan was picking his daily citrus from the tree when both wolves suddenly began to growl at the doorway to the antechamber.

“Bitch!” A young woman stormed through the doorway, her gray robes swirling around her like mist. “You can’t avoid me forever!”

~~~END~~~

;P

Not entirely sure it’ll be 3 parts, but pretty sure. At least 2 parts

General taglist

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling

[the-eevee-sides]

Let’s not talk about what happened that day. {Sorry for being gone. I’ve had this done, just forgot to post it}

[legendaryevokercupcake]

The only remrom we tolerate whatsoever in this blog is Remy Sanders (Sleep) and King Romulus (Pre-split creativity twins).

[the-astral-forest]

Are there festivals going on?

"Not currently, although fairly soon we'll be beginning preparations for the start of summer." Logan put a hand on his chest as he elaborated unprompted. "Naturally, I'll be assisting in many of these preparations, since I provide the most order in essentially every function I participate in. The warmer months, however, are more under Romulus's jurisdiction, so he will be taking a more active role in that."

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[ijustwannadraw0716]

Here me out

Asexual Roman and Aromantic Remus where together they make up Romulus: the AroAce king.

[titular-twins-tournament]

[edupunkn00b]

Weekend Inspiration

Thank you so much for the tag, @penna-nomen !

Inspiration this weekend has come in the form of sound for a story idea threatening my current WIP’s reigning place. (Yes, @typically-untypical , it’s the Logan/King 🤓👑 idea you’ve blessed my brain with!)

No-pressure tags @mimssides @naminethewriter @brainlicking @lost-in-thought-20 and all who’d like to share!

[oatmealdaydreams]

Wings (Art Dump)

Was inspired by the designs drawn by @thegoldenduckie, so of course I made some of my own.

Just the wings because I can't draw human anatomy worth anything (lmao).

I'll revisit these later and make the wings more accurate to their bird model. Just did this on a lil whim.

Also, this is my first time in a while doing digital art, so bear with me. Not the greatest.

Please do not repost, thank you.

[see art under the cut]

^Logan's wings as a carrion crow

^Patton's wings as a bluebird

^Roman's wings as a cardinal

^Virgil's wings as a violet-backed starling

^Janus' wings as a saffron finch

^Remus' wings as a mitred parakeet

^Orange's wings as a guianan cock-of-the-rock

(yes, that's its actual name)

^Thomas' wings as a mix between a scarlet macaw & a purple-backed thornbill

And as a lil treat...

^King Romulus' wings as a wood thrush

[faulty-rob]

Prompt given by: @oopsicausedchaos

Roman: Remus! What did I tell you about drinking my aftershave?!

Remus: I didn’t drink it! It tastes like fancy-stuck-up-shit-roses!

Roman: *offended princey noises*

[twofacedbelief]

it was only supposed to be a sketch—

I'm really happy with this new design for our beloved king tho!

[ts-sides-head-canon]

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

[starlocked01]

Romulus

AO3 Link

Chapter 4- depression

Despite everything, I will finish posting this story.

@sandersidesbigbang