#Virgil has a panic attack

[t4t-apexeclipse]

which two sides would have the best time getting high together

and alternatively… which two sides would have the worst time getting high

[sandersontheside]

AU concept: Remus King is a best-selling but reclusive horror novelist. His twin brother Roman is a struggling actor. When Remus' publisher pressures him to make public appearances to promote his newest book, despite his insistence that he wants to stay out of the public eye, they hatch a scheme. Roman will pose as his brother for all book signings, public speaking appearances, and various other events, and will be paid Remus' fee for those appearances, plus a little extra. Roman doesn't particularly want to pretend to be his brother, but he hasn't had a real acting job in months and a man's gotta eat. Besides, he's known Remus their entire lives, he could play the part in his sleep. What could possibly go wrong? 

(Spoiler alert: a lot.)

Virgil Rayne is Remus King's biggest fan, who comes to a signing, over the moon to finally meet the man behind his favorite stories. Only to have a panic attack in line and be forced to leave before he can meet his hero. Or so he thinks. Because while hiding in the bathroom trying to calm down, who should walk in but the author himself, who proceeds to be surprisingly good at talking Virgil down. Once Virgil calms down, it feels kind of awkward to ask for an autograph, but thankfully Remus offers before he can ask. 

Remus even scribbles his number in the book next to his very poetic message to Virgil.

It takes Virgil a few days to get over his anxiety and text, but he ultimately does because how could he pass up the opportunity to be friends with his favorite author?? So they start texting. A lot. And who knew Remus loved Disney movies? Or did theatre in high school? Or sings Taylor Swift in the shower? Or makes silly puns that Virgil can't help but laugh at? Or has a soft, dreamy, romantic side? Remus King is nothing like Virgil imagined he would be, but it doesn’t matter because before he knows it, Virgil has fallen hard. And sometimes it kinda seems like the feeling is mutual? Remus is certainly flirty, but it's hard to tell if that actually means anything.

And, oh God, Roman is so, so, so fucked. Because Virgil has pretty purple hair and dark mysterious eyes and a cute laugh, and short circuited his brain so much when they first met that he didn’t even think before writing his number down. Roman is now totally head over heels for Virgil Rayne.

Virgil, who thinks he’s his brother.  

(Remus is laughing his ass off at this whole sorry situation)

[analoceits]

here are my hc's for how each side crys

logan: he is fighting it the whole way through. squeezing his eyes shut, rubbing at his eyes, etc. refuse to admit hes crying and WILL try to flee.

patton: looks so SAD. pouty lip, watery eyes, etc. he INSISTS hes fine all the way through. sobs a lot but very quietly and only in little hic-ups.

roman: WEEPS. WAILS. ETC. he is SO LOUD and DRAMATIC. all or nothing BABYYY. always has the reddest eyes and nose after.

virgil: depends on context. option 1 is just kinda.. depressed crying. laying in bed while tears slowly pour out of his eyes. option 2 is panic attack crying. shrieking sobs, pressing himself into the farthest corner, etc. neither is pretty.

janus: only cries in private, and only when hes bone deep exhausted. its always just this.. almost mournful sobbing. just weeping into his hands like theres nothing else to do. good at putting himself back together after.

remus: angry crier. his sobs are wretched and ragged. will usually end up cursing out whoever tries to comfort him. bangs his fist on their chest if they try to hold him.

[let-roman-bite-someone]

this is something i’ve been ruminating on ever since WTIT came out.

i’ve been thinking about this connection for a while. Virgil’s anxiety can lead to cognitive distortions if taken too far (a.k.a if Thomas beats himself up over something) and these cognitive distortions are Remus’s creations. this is interesting, it’s interesting to see how Virgil’s and Remus’s roles overlap and almost compliment each other, but in an unhealthy way.

but this just makes it all the more confusing as to why Virgil wasn’t present in WTIT, and why he seemed so unbothered in the endcard. i once aired this confusion on here and most people said that it was like Logan in Moving On, Virgil was still present within Thomas, he just didn’t take a physical form.

this doesn’t make sense to me because when Logan sunk out, Thomas had trouble thinking logically at first. he gets around to it eventually, but it’s clear that while Logan wasn’t completely gone, his disappearance made a significant impact on the group. Virgil was having a panic attack, Roman was urging Thomas to act on impulse, Patton was confused and lost.

it’s clear this is not the case in WTIT. in an episode that is so heavily centered around anxiety and - dare i say - paranoia, it���s baffling that Virgil was almost completely unaffected. especially since, again, he seemed fine in the end card. he was a little bitter towards Patton, but that’s all.

i’m just curious as to whether there was a canonical reason for this. for why Virgil wasn’t involved in an episode where Thomas was constantly panicking over dangers that might take place.

especially since,

1. Thomas is worried about something Virgil has mentioned before, being alone/losing his loved ones.

2. Thomas did something that Virgil has canonically been shown to care about in the past - not following up on his plans to be productive.

3. fake!Nico says WORD FOR WORD what Virgil suggested during the debate - AND both scenarios were about a potential love interest not replying to Thomas’s text.

of course, Virgil has greatly improved since the negative thinking episode, but he is still anxiety. and Thomas is still an anxious person. and Thomas was visibly freaking out throughout WTIT so it’s really really unlikely that Virgil was just in the backseat for that episode.

Logan temporarily “leaving” (but still being present) in Moving On makes sense because it was an emotional episode, and Thomas needed to sort things out with his emotional sides a.k.a Patton, Roman and Virgil (mainly Patton). there was logic involved but it wasn’t a logic-centric episode.

WTIT was 100% an anxiety-centric episode.

i doubt that this was accidental. there are so many direct parallels and callbacks, it had to be intentional. there’s no way Thomas and crew just forgot that Virgil played a crucial role in creating cognitive distortions. i think there’s something deeper here, there must be a reason why Virgil wasn’t present for this episode and how he seemed so nonchalant when he did appear. there’s absolutely no way Virgil was just “present within Thomas” and didn’t feel the need to show up in person.

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn't do) (6)

warnings: captivity, restraints, panic attacks, unethical science, experimentation, wounds, injury and blood mention, character being kind of an ass, fear, bird ex machina, lmk if i missed any  

-

Virgil woke up to find he was surrounded by darkness and completely unable to move.

Seeing as the last thing he remembered was being poisoned into unconsciousness by a demon slayer with mad scientist leanings, this was about as far from reassuring as an awakening could be.

For a disoriented moment, he tried to check for the baby crow, which mostly just involved him listening closely for any loud, raspy-voiced swearing. Naturally, there wasn’t any, because he’d blacked out and the slayer very clearly hadn’t wanted Roman’s bird anywhere near him.

Bizarrely enough, he felt a little morose at the baby crow’s absence. Maybe because she was the only creature who had figured out that despite being a monster, he wasn’t actually a threat to humanity.

Or maybe it was just because being immobilized in a dark, silent place was totally freaking him out, and he would have taken any company so long as it meant he hadn’t been locked away forever or buried alive.

(Could he still die from a lack of oxygen? Would he be stuck underground, conscious and alone, for the rest of time? He couldn’t even call out for help.)

His body was unresponsive, and nothing his brain was coming up with was remotely helpful, so Virgil focused on his breathing, trying to keep his count steady as he inhaled and exhaled air that could be rapidly running out—

By the time the slayer entered the room, Virgil had already hyperventilated himself into unconsciousness a few times, each time utterly convinced he was dying.

The man didn’t bother saying anything to him or even sparing him anything more than a glance, simply walking around the space and lighting several lamps at a brisk pace, but Virgil felt a vast, sweeping sense of relief fall over him regardless.

He wasn’t buried. He hadn’t been left alone to rot away in the dark.

He was… extensively strapped down to a waist-high table in the center of the room?

A significant amount of his relief started to fade. Right. He’d been caught by a slayer who wanted him dead or worse, and was now entirely at his mercy— assuming he even had any for demons.

There was another person in the room, too, and they scurried about so quickly that it took Virgil a few moments to identify them as the wary stranger who had sent him to go find their brother. They were wearing the same uniform as the slayer, now, which answered basically all of Virgil’s potential questions about the situation.

“Subject ABN-V3, Log 1,” the slayer started, and Virgil’s eyes flicked over to him curiously. “The subject regained consciousness approximately half an hour after halting the regular wisteria toxin doses, indicating remarkable poison resilience, comparable to a Lower Rank.”

There was the distinct scratch of hurried writing, but the slayer’s hands were unoccupied as he circled Virgil’s prone form. The younger slayer must have been an assistant.

There was a muted pressure on his hand, which refused to even twitch, even as the pressure grew heavier. The slayer hummed, pulling away. “In contrast, regeneration ability appears relatively slow. Internal organ function has resumed, but exterior nerves and muscles remain paralyzed.”

His organs had been paralyzed?! Virgil’s breathing stuttered, and he wrestled with the instinctual panic for a moment. His lungs were clearly working now, so he should just keep breathing and not pass out again.

When he looked back over, it was to the sight of the slayer staring directly at his face with a detached sort of curiosity. That composed mask of his may have dropped for a few moments in the clearing, but it was fully repaired and glued in place now.

“Do you have anything to say?” he asked, which was a little startling.

Virgil blinked at him for a moment, and then very quickly recalled that blinking was about all he could do. His hands weren’t cooperating with him, and even his head felt too heavy to shake or nod at the moment.

An irritated rumble started up in his chest for a moment before dying out, and he heaved a low sigh, already exhausted. He’d burnt through all his default terror while panicking in the dark, and now there was barely anything left to scrape up for his impending dehumanizing death.

The slayer only watched him impassively for another long, silent stretch of seconds before turning his attention away.

“Subject’s nonverbal behavior remains consistent with previous encounter,” he narrated, which succinctly explained why he’d bothered to verbally prod Virgil in the first place. “No secondary manifestations present in the room. We’ll proceed with direct regeneration testing while the paralytic is still in effect.”

There was a metallic clink, and Virgil’s gaze flicked over to a tray covered with tools he could only guess at the purpose of. Most of them were sharp-edged.

At least he wouldn’t be able to feel them. Yet.

The slayer picked up a thin blade, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, in an attempt to not have to see whatever was being done to him.

The narration of that calm, clinical voice couldn’t be as easily blocked out, so he found out regardless.

—

His healing factor had improved a lot since being turned into a monster, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the level he’d seen from some of the other demons he’d fought, so he wasn’t surprised to find that the first thing he felt when the paralysis began to wear fully off was pain.

The wounds weren’t serious, at least. He hoped that didn’t mean they were saving more lethal ones for when he could actually feel them, but he wasn’t optimistic about his odds.

(Unsurprisingly, it seemed like most demon slayers really hated demons.)

The slayer seemed strangely perturbed by the way the methodical injuries he’d inflicted hadn’t healed yet. Apparently, vastly accelerated healing was the norm for most demons, so this was just another way in which Virgil was a freaky outlier. Virgil could have told the slayer as much himself if he’d been able to sign.

Not to say that he’d regained all his vocabulary. With his limbs strapped firmly down, his post-poison communication was limited to signs that he could form with just his hands, and no accompanying movements. Fingerspelling was tedious, but at least it was possible.

“S-L-E-E-P,” he’d signed when the slayer had been theorizing on his apparently deeply unusual slow healing. “L-O-N-G.”

It took a few repetitions for his captor to pay it any mind, but once he did, his expression immediately creased with doubt. Virgil let himself look irritated about the reaction, because really, what was the point in pretending? He was screwed either way.

“If hibernation periods could heal demons, there would be longer stretches of inactivity between attacks,” the slayer said, frowning down at him. “It would make my job much easier if that were the case, but it isn’t.”

Since when was Virgil the representative for all of demonkind? He’d barely even spoken to other demons, since generally their interactions tended to start and end with them trying to kill each other. This was his supernatural sleeping schedule, not theirs.

Generally, he only slept like that when he was injured. If he wasn’t hurt in a fight, he didn’t get tired. He signed as much to the slayer, and earned a disbelieving scoff for his efforts.

Virgil had only been dozing lightly so far, seeing as he was currently trapped and about as far from safety as he could possibly get, but the disbelief rankled, and he huffed before pointedly closing his eyes as though to prove it.

He thought maybe the slayer wouldn’t allow it— there probably wasn’t much to scientifically observe when your subject is sleeping— but to his surprise, the man only noted down the behavior and then left.

It took a good part of the first day to force himself down into genuine sleep, but being left alone in a quiet space was close enough to his usual cave naps that he eventually managed to sink into the heavy unconsciousness of one of his impromptu hibernation sessions.

A full week later, he snorted into wakefulness to see the slayer had unstrapped one arm and was inspecting the smooth skin where the incisions had been previously.

This must not have been the first time he’d removed a restraint to see if Virgil was faking his beauty rest, because his head shot up with keen alarm the moment Virgil’s eyes fluttered open.

He released Virgil’s hand and drew a thin, needle-like dagger from his side in the same moment, presumably a breath away from poisoning him back into temporary organ failure.

Virgil barely even registered the movement, his eyes still crusted over with sleep. Half-awake and triumphant, he blearily inspected his completely-healed arm and then promptly signed, “I told you so.”

“Return your arm to the restraint,” the slayer instructed, his voice brooking no argument and his gaze assessing.

Virgil made a sour face, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t you have cuffs?” he asked, turning slightly so he could tap his free wrist to his strapped down one for the last sign. “I could at least sign in those.”

“The restraint. Immediately,” the slayer replied, firm as stone.

A low grumbling growl of complaint started up in Virgil’s chest, but there was no way he could get free of the other restraints quickly enough to try and escape, and he really wasn’t looking to get his organs shut down again for no reason.

Besides, the assistant kid was still there in the corner, watching him with wide eyes, and he didn’t like the idea of scaring them.

Fine. He’d go back to his stupid nap then.

With a petulant scowl, he closed his eyes and stuck his arm back out and allowed the slayer to pin it back into place and tighten the straps over it. He flipped him off afterwards, though, just to make things clear.

It was quiet for long enough that he pried his eyes back open suspiciously. Both of the slayers were staring at him like he’d just started abruptly juggling fish or something, and he raised his eyebrows in a display of irritated bewilderment.

For once, the slayer didn’t have some snappy annotation to spout, only glaring down at Virgil with his jaw working like he was gritting his teeth.

Was he really that pissed off that Virgil had been telling the truth about his healing? Why?

“Professor Logan—,” the baby slayer whispered, faltering when Virgil’s gaze flicked their way.

“That’s enough for today,” ‘Logan’ answered, stepping away from the table. “We’ll speak elsewhere.”

Virgil only barely managed to stifle an incredulous noise as the two of them left, putting the lights out as they went. They’d never bothered to take their rude and often horrifying conversations about him elsewhere before. Maybe he should try being right about things more often.

—

“Bastard!”

Virgil’s eyes flew open at the muffled call, his head feeling much clearer after sleeping off the last of the poison’s symptoms.

It was quiet and dark all around him, as always, and for a moment, he nearly convinced himself that he’d imagined the noise entirely.

Then, from outside the door, there was a raspy squawk and an audible ruffling of feathers. “Fiend! Fiend?”

… Just how determined to swear at him was this bird?!

He couldn’t exactly respond, and he wasn’t sure why he would want to. Logan had reacted extremely negatively to the bird existing in the same space as him last time, and he wouldn’t wager that the slayer’s attitude had changed in the past however many days.

Still, the crow was clearly looking for someone, possibly even him. He could hear the distinctive pitter-patter of little taloned feet scurrying back and forth on the floor, with the occasional inquisitive swear thrown in.

After a few long minutes of this, Virgil gave up on trying to go back to sleep, unable to tune the little creature out. He may as well try to answer in the limited way he could.

It took entirely too long, but he managed to purse his lips and whistle a long, low note.

The clicking of steps stopped dead, and then grew abruptly louder, the bird’s faux-speech taking on an excited tone.

The baby crow audibly scrabbled at the doorway for a few seconds, before evidently managing to worm her way under the door gap. From there, she made short work of the flight up to the table, where she immediately perched directly on Virgil’s forehead and peered upside down at him.

“Scourge!” she announced gleefully.

Someone certainly hadn’t learned her lesson about fraternizing with big scary demons. He whistled an amused note at her, fingers twitching in an impulse to reach up and ruffle her feathers before he remembered his situation.

Right. No bird-petting for monsters, he guessed.

The crow— wasn’t her name Fluffbutt or something?— seemed to notice the movement, though, and she traversed down Virgil’s arm in little hops. He still couldn’t really reach her scruff of downy baby feathers from this angle, but he gave it his best attempt.

Fluffbutt pecked him harshly, which, rude, and then she turned around and started picking at the straps holding his forearm down.

… No fucking way.

Virgil craned his neck to look over at the bird, his disbelief slowly melting away as he saw that yes, the crow really was tugging and prying at the corded knot holding the restraints in place like her life depended on it.

It was slow going, but as she steadily worked at it, Virgil could tell that progress was being made. He wiggled his arm testingly every so often, usually getting bit for his efforts, and after what felt like hours of agonizing waiting, he finally managed to pull through the last threads of the restraints.

He only had one arm free, but that and some time was all he really needed. Fluffbutt reclaimed her spot on his forehead, watching as he quickly tore at the restraints on his other limbs.

As it turned out, quickly sitting up for the first time in days was a bad idea. Virgil rode out the surge of dizziness and pushed to his feet, pacing back and forth in the small room until he was confident that his legs had remembered how to function well enough to get him out of there.

A simple test of the handle revealed the room had been locked, and Virgil wasted a few minutes poking through the unsettling number of medical tools in the room before realizing there was no way they’d left the key in here with him.

He could probably kick the door down if given a few tries, but the more noise he made, the more likely it was that Logan would find him mid-escape and put him right back in those restraints. Virgil had no illusions on how a second match between him and the uncannily quick slayer would turn out, which meant that stealth was currently his best friend.

He turned his gaze to the wall, wondering if they were flimsy enough that it would be better to try and punch a hole through one of those, but before he could decide further, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Shit. Plastering himself against the wall, he waited tensely for them to pass by— only for them to pause right outside the doorway. There was the distinct click of a key being inserted into a lock. Double shit.

The door swung open, and the assistant slayer had just enough time to look up and see the empty specimen table before Virgil leapt at them.

Don’t freak out, he would have said if his hands weren’t currently occupied with covering the slayer’s mouth and dragging them bodily into the room. Instead, he made a series of low chuffing sounds from deep in his chest, which helped absolutely nothing about the current situation.

“Scourge!” Fluffbutt crowed, her contribution equally as unhelpful.

Hurriedly booting the door shut with his foot, Virgil only had a moment before the baby slayer gave up on trying to pry his hand away and instead went for the sword sheathed at their side.

Since letting them do that was basically a one-way street to getting decapitated, he risked releasing them for long enough to tear his claws through their belt and yank the sword free, sheathe and all, before tossing it into a corner with a muted thud.

“PRO—,” they started, and Virgil slapped his hand back over their mouth, hissing lowly in the closest approximation to a shush that he could manage. They responded by glaring and biting him, which he really should have expected after living with teenagers for a few months.

It only took a glance around the room to find a suitable cloth from the cache of cleaning supplies, and Virgil wrangled the baby slayer into a headlock for the handful of seconds it took him to assemble a makeshift gag and shove it in their mouth.

With the slayer now unable to raise the alarm, Virgil paused for a moment to think, his whole body jittering with sudden adrenaline. The easiest solution would obviously be to strap the slayer into the convenient demon-proof restraints readily available on the specimen table, but he really didn’t want to do that. The kid was already panicking hard enough, the last thing he wanted was to make them think he was going to experiment on them or something.

Instead, he tore a larger piece of linen into strips and wound them around the slayer’s wrists a few times before knotting the end of the faux-ropes intensively around one of the table legs.

The slayer started yanking against the makeshift restraints the moment Virgil stepped away, their cries muffled but still audible enough that he should really be escaping sooner rather than later.

Luckily, his cloak had been dumped on a nearby shelf with the rest of the meager belongings he carried with him, mostly ignored after Logan had finished snooping through it for bones or something. Virgil ignored Fluffbutt swooping noisily around his head as he slung the comforting weight back around his shoulders and pulled the hood up, and then stepped back around the table towards the door.

The baby slayer seemed to think he was headed for them instead, their gaze very obviously wide with terror as they scrambled ineffectively to get away from him. He stopped short, guilt swamping him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he signed, backing up a few paces to try and give them some space. “I just want to get out of here, okay?”

The kid stared at him, chest rising and falling as rapidly as a sparrow’s. He sort of wished he had heard their name at some point, but it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. As it was, he didn’t even know if they knew sign, let alone how to calm them down.

He sighed, lifting his hands up to his shoulders in a gesture of nonaggression, and edged around them to finally get to the door. Fluffbutt settled on his shoulder, apparently content to be identified as a little feathered demon-associating traitor. 

The hall was blessedly empty when he stuck his head out to check, and so he waved a small farewell to the kid— almost certain that they would wriggle out of those haphazard bonds within the hour— and closed the door after himself.

The key was still sitting there in the lock, so he twisted it to relock the room, and after a moment of thought, dropped the key and kicked it under the door so that the kid wouldn’t be stuck if nobody else came by in the next few hours.

He’d done it. He was out— mostly, anyhow.

Now, all he had to do was stay out.

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you're in the hive, the other bees assume you're supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 2: The Morning After

Wordcount: 3K

~~~~

Virgil wakes up to the sound of birds singing, and he doesn't recognize the room he's in. Even before he opens his eyes he knows it's not his bedroom, and this isn't his bed. The sunlight is coming from the wrong direction, and this isn't his blanket. It's the wrong texture, the wrong weight.

Where did he fall asleep last night?

He doesn't remember. It's too early for remembering, for discerning the difference between dreams and memories.

But he's awake now—he's sure he's awake now, not dreaming—and this is not his bed, is not his blanket.

Virgil opens his eyes. He's on a couch, with a throw pillow under his head and a quilt on top of him. The room is dim, barely illuminated by the morning light coming in through the gaps in the blinds, but Virgil can see another couch across the room, with a person-shaped lump under another blanket.

Slowly, Virgil sits up and looks around. He sees an armchair, in which is yet another person, splayed out in a position that does not look comfortable, and yet, apparently, sound asleep.

There are three more people asleep on the floor between Virgil’s couch and the other couch, mostly on top of some kind of mats on the floor, and more or less covered with more blankets.

Virgil picks his way across the sleeping-people-and-bedding-strewn floor, and slips out the door into the rest of the house.

Last night is coming back to him, now. He remembers the party wrapping up, and Princey explaining that anyone too drunk or tired to drive home safely, or who just didn't want to try to travel after midnight, could spend the night.

Virgil hadn't wanted to stay, but apparently Remus had forgotten to take Virgil’s wants into consideration, and had vanished with his husband behind closed doors some time prior, leaving him stranded. So, Virgil had laid claim to one of the couches, taken the pool noodles out of his costume, and made the best of it.

The couch had been pretty comfortable, actually. It was not the worst sleepover he'd ever had, despite the impromptu-ness of it.

Remus probably isn't awake yet. It's early, and Remus has never been a morning person even when he didn't have an exciting night. Which means that Virgil’s going to be stuck here for another few hours at least. Fabulous. Hopefully Remus's twin and the other hosts don't mind him hanging around until Remus gets his lazy ass out of bed to drive him home.

Virgil finds a bathroom and uses it, and then considers going back to the couch and trying to get some more sleep.

He doesn't want to.

The couch is comfortable, but it isn't his bed, and that isn't his bedroom, and there are at least five other people in there and he's no longer exhausted enough to not care about falling asleep with five fucking strangers in the room with him, not to mention however many other people are in the rest of the house. Sure, they're all asleep right now, probably, but if he goes back to sleep, there's every chance they'll wake up before him, and he doesn't know them, doesn't know what they'd think would be a funny prank to play on the guy who fell asleep at a party, and–

He's spiraling. Virgil is spiraling and he needs to stop before he has a panic attack in a stranger's bathroom. He takes a deep breath, looks at the sink and the water that's been running over his hands for a minute now. He considers splashing some water on his face, but he doesn't actually want to do that, so instead he takes some soap (he doesn't remember if he soaped up already, but it won't hurt to do it twice) and finishes washing his hands.

He'll be okay.

He was asleep here already, in a room full of strangers, and no-one did anything. Sure, they were all too passed out to do anything, but still. No-one had played any pranks on him while he slept.

And he's awake now. He can wait until Remus gets up, and then he can make Remus take him home, and he can lock the door and take a nap in his own fucking bed, alone.

Yeah.

He'll be okay.

Virgil exits the bathroom, and doesn't go back to the room he'd slept in. He wanders in the other direction instead, and soon comes to the main room that had been the epicenter of the party.

To his surprise, he's not the only one there.

“Good morning, Virgil,” greets a man who Virgil is pretty sure he has never seen before in his life.

“Good morning,” Virgil replies automatically, his brain whirling, trying to figure out how this man knows his name. Not from work, Virgil doesn't introduce himself to customers and he “lost” his nametag ages ago.

He tries to scrutinize the man without being obvious. He has glasses with simple black frames, nothing particularly memorable or eye-catching about them. He's wearing a polo shirt and a tie, at early o'clock in the morning, while also still wearing what are clearly pajama pants.

The pants are patterned with—Virgil squints—are those beakers? They are. And microscopes, and atoms. Okay, dude's definitely a nerd then, noted.

Nerd…

Nerd-Bot!

That's why Virgil didn't recognize him, he had a box on his head last night! Granted, Virgil probably wouldn't recognize ninety percent of the people at the party if he saw them again out of costume—ninety-nine, if he's being perfectly honest, and it only isn't higher because he already knew Remus and Janus, and he might be capable of recognizing Princey and Calico now, at least in the context of this house—but he'd never even seen this guy's face.

He'd introduced himself to Virgil. Nobody else had done that. “Hello, I am—” Virgil can't remember what he'd said his name was— “I am dressed as a robot.” (It had been pretty obvious he was dressed as a robot.)

And Virgil had responded in kind, “I'm Virgil, I'm a spider.”

That was how he knew Virgil’s name. Good, mystery solved. What was his name though? Virgil isn't very good with names. That particular bit of the memory is nothing but static and an impression of the man's tone.

Princey had called him Nerdbot, and Calculator Watch and Encyclopedia Brain and half a dozen other nicknames that aren't coming to mind now, so him coming back and striking up a conversation hadn't been much help on the ‘remembering names’ front.

“Are you hungry?” Nerdbot asks, interrupting Virgil’s thoughts. “There's cereal, and toast, and coffee. We had not anticipated anyone but myself being up this early, but there will also be pancakes and scrambled eggs in an hour or two.”

Virgil blinks. “You're making us breakfast?”

“Of course,” Nerdbot replies impassively. “It would not be very hospitable to send guests away hungry. If you would prefer, there are also leftovers of most of the hors d'oeuvres served last evening.”

Virgil has never been to a party that included breakfast before. “I– cereal?”

“Certainly,” Nerdbot says, and gestures for Virgil to follow him into the next room. It's a kitchen, and Nerdbot opens a cabinet and takes out an entire stack of cereal bowls. “If you wouldn't mind setting these on the table out there, I would appreciate it,” he says, handing the bowls to Virgil.

Virgil takes the bowls back out to the main room and puts them on the snack table, which is otherwise mostly bare. The paper tablecloth is gone, and all the food's been put away, but there's still the stack of cups that had been beside the punch bowls, and some water bottles. Virgil snags one and slips it into his hoodie pocket.

Nerdbot comes out of the kitchen behind him and sets several cereal boxes on the table beside the bowls. “Might as well start getting it set up now,” he explains. “Take your pick, I'll be right back.” And he disappears back into the kitchen.

Dang, they've even got name brand cereal. Virgil usually gets the off-brand stuff, because it's cheaper and doesn't taste very different. He pours himself a bowl of lucky charms.

Nerdbot returns with a jug of milk and a handful of spoons. “Would you like juice?” he asks. “We have orange, apple, and a blend that is primarily peach. There is also chocolate milk, if you would prefer.”

Virgil shook his head. “Water’s fine.”

“Very well.” Nerdbot picks up one of the bottles and places it beside Virgil’s bowl, then returns to his seat.

Virgil adds milk to his cereal, takes the second water bottle, and looks around to see where to sit. There aren't any chairs at the snack table, but there are several around the edges of the room, along with a couple stools and the armchair Nerdbot is sitting in. He's got a mug and a plate of toast on the side table beside him, and one of the dining chairs is on the other side, so Virgil decides to sit there.

They eat together in awkward silence. Neither attempts to make conversation.

When Virgil finishes his cereal, he asks, “Where should I put my dishes?”

Nerdbot looks up. “Oh, you can put them in the dishwasher,” he says. “Please rinse your bowl first.”

Virgil does. There's plenty of room in the dishwasher, and he's not sure how they like to load it, and there aren't any other bowls yet to extrapolate from, so he just makes his best guess. The spoon at least is easy. There are several pieces of silverware already in the caddy, handles upward, and Virgil’s spoon joins them.

He returns to the main room.

He sits back down in the dining chair.

He doesn't know what to do now.

Nerdbot finishes his own breakfast, gathers his dishes, and takes them into the kitchen, snagging the milk jug on the way. When he returns, he doesn't sit back down. Instead, he starts taking down one of the purple and orange streamers crisscrossing the ceiling and walls.

“Would you like help?” Virgil offers. Nerdbot glances over his shoulder at him, then nods.

“Much appreciated,” he says with a smile.

Together, they take down all the decorations in this room, throwing away the streamers and piling the more reusable decorations on the small table beside the armchair. When that's done, Nerdbot asks Virgil to help him move the snack table.

“We put it here to make space, but as the majority of the partygoers went home last night, it can go back to its usual location,” he explains, going to one end. Virgil mirrors him on the other end, and they lift.

There had been just enough room to walk between the table and the wall, so you could reach the food on the far side without reaching across the whole table. Careful not to tip anything off, they move the table another foot or so out.

“That looks about right,” Nerdbot says, eyeing the table thoughtfully. He grabs the nearest dining chair and puts it in place, testing that it can be pulled all the way back without hitting the wall. Satisfied, he starts moving the rest of the chairs back.

“Does it matter which ones go where?” Virgil asks. The chairs are a mix of two sets, four of them wooden with white-painted slats and legs, and five made of twisty black metal, with padded seats and backs.

“No,” Nerdbot says, so Virgil just puts the chairs in randomly. Three go on each of the long sides of the table, and one each at either end. The chair Virgil had breakfasted in, which is one of the metal ones, remains where it is.

“Thank you. You have been very helpful,” Nerdbot tells him, and Virgil smiles. Okay, so overall it hadn't been as awkweird a morning as he'd been expecting.

Nerdbot considers the table for a few more moments. “We could add the stools, to squeeze a few more people in,” he muses. “Still, it would be too tight to fit everyone even so.” He turns to Virgil. “Do you think we should get out the extra leaf?”

“Uh.” Virgil hadn't expected to be consulted! “How many people are there?” Counting Virgil there were six in the room where he'd slept, and then he knows Janus and Remus are still here somewhere, plus–

“Fifteen,” Nerdbot says, and doesn't even need to count first. “With the additional leaf, we can seat twelve easily enough, though the corners are a little tight. If we're willing to brush elbows, we can squeeze in a fifth person on each side, for a total of fourteen, which leaves only one person unseated.”

“I can sit out,” Virgil volunteers. He does not want to be squeezed in with a tableful of mostly strangers, thanks much. “I already ate, and that sounds crowded.”

“Hm. I would not want you to feel excluded,” Nerdbot says, eyeing the seating arrangement. “But you're right, it is a tight fit, especially considering the number of people present who talk with their hands. I would also dislike for a glass of juice to be upset into someone's lap.” He sighs. “Again.”

“Does everyone need to eat together?” Virgil asks. 

Nerdbot turns to him, eyebrows raised. “You're right,” he says. “We had not planned a specific breakfast time, and people will be waking at various points, not all together. It is entirely probable that at least three people will be not dining at any given point, in which case we would merely require twelve settings.” He nods decisively. “Excellent. Will you assist me in adding the leaf?”

“Where is it?”

“Under the stairs, with the holiday and seasonal items,” Nerdbot says, walking off. Virgil follows him.

They have to shift a couple boxes to get at the extra leaf, but they get it out, and between the two of them they add it to the table, and then add stools at the resulting gaps.

The inactive silence which follows is less awkward than the one before. Virgil plays a game on his phone.

After a bit, a few more people show up. Nerdbot greets them and offers breakfast. “There is cereal and toast available now,” he tells them, “and we will be making scrambled eggs and pancakes shortly.”

One person takes him up on the cereal, but the others decide to wait for hot food. Nerdbot offers them coffee as well, which they gratefully accept.

The fourth person to arrive is Calico, who is still dressed as a cat. He's a gray cat now, in a simple onesie, instead of the more elaborate costume from last night.

He hugs Nerdbot from behind, mumbling a sleepy “Good morning” into his shoulder blades.

Nerdbot's face softens. “Good morning, love,” he answers fondly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm-hm,” Calico says, still hugging him. 

“Do you want to get started on the pancakes?” Nerdbot asks.

Calico yawns. “Okay,” he says. He doesn't let go of Nerdbot. Nerdbot pats his hands with an extremely affectionate smile, and slowly, Calico releases him.

Nerdbot turns around and kisses him, and Virgil looks back at the game on his phone because privacy. They probably don't want to be stared at while they kiss in their own dining room.

He glances up again after several seconds of silence, and they're still kissing, frozen in place like a pair of statues. The Lovers, or whatever. Virgil returns to his game.

Eventually, he hears Calico say, “You took the decorations down,” and he looks up. They're hugging now, Calico wrapped up in Nerdbot's arms. He's pouting a little.

“I did,” Nerdbot confirms. “As we agreed previously, the season for Halloween is All Of October. It is November first, and therefore no longer Halloween time. Furthermore, while some guests remain, the party has ended, and there is no more need for party decorations.”

Calico pouts harder, and Nerdbot kisses him again, much more briefly this time.

“After breakfast, I will assist you in putting up more decorations,” he says. “You will note that I did not remove any general fall decor, only the specific Halloween items.”

This room had mostly been Halloween and party, though. There was a cross-stitched leafy picture on the wall, but they'd taken most everything else down. Maybe some of the little stuffed jack-o-lanterns should have stayed out? Pumpkins were definitely general fall, but jack-o-lanterns were specifically Halloween, right?

Well, they're just on the table, not packed away. If he wants to, Calico can put them back easily enough.

Calico hums a little, squeezing Nerdbot. “Okay,” he says. “I'll get started on the pancakes. Will you make the eggs?”

“Of course,” Nerdbot says, and they head into the kitchen.

While they're cooking, Virgil is surprised by the appearance of someone else he recognizes.

“Hey, it’s my favorite barista!” greets the man who is, as always, wearing sunglasses.

Virgil grins. “What are you doing up before noon, you chronic insomniac?” he returns.

“Looking for coffee, obviously. What are my options today?”

“There's sugar and cream,” Virgil says, since Nerdbot had offered those. “I doubt there's a milk steamer or flavored syrups, but our host is an excellent cook, so if he likes you enough to let you raid his spice cabinet I'm sure there's cinnamon and ginger, so you could attempt an approximation of pumpkin spice.”

Remy grins at him and saunters into the kitchen. He comes back a few moments later not with dry spices but with a bottle of creamer, which he pours generously into a mug before adding coffee.

He plops himself down in Nerdbot's armchair and makes casual conversation with Virgil, who doesn't have to tell him he can't talk now, he's working and there are other customers.

It's nice.

~~~~

Chapter 3: A Series of Unintended Events

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Cause and Effect

ok this is overdone i feel but i love your writing. something abkut the effects the sides have on themselves? virgil being super anxious and logan overwhelmed and similar things? something w janus? with a good portion of hurt comofrt? love your fics!! – anon

Hi! I love your writing so so so much. I do have a request for you, if you want it: Headcanon that Remus, being responsible for intrusive thoughts, is also responsible for any earworms Thomas gets. Which, he mostly uses to his advantage. Except. He unironically likes Taylor Swift and is terrified of that information getting out because it will ruin his image/he won’t be taken seriously. – anon

I hope you’re having a good week! I was wondering if I could request a hurt/comfort fic with one of the Sides being really bad about announcing/enforcing boundaries, because “it probably means more to them than it does to me” “it’s not that bad” “I can deal with it”. Thank you for considering!! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-esteem issues, panic attacks, anxiety attacks

Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2954

Patton doesn't always remember that he has feelings, too. Logan works…a lot. Virgil lives his life looking over his shoulder. Janus has gotten so good at lying to everyone that it's a wonder he even knows what the truth is himself. Remus wears shame like a badge of honor and the sweater he just can't manage to make himself throw away. Roman is tired. The Sides struggle. The Sides help each other.

Patton doesn't always remember that he has feelings, too.

He's at the center of Thomas's feelings, of course, and that means he's feeling a lot of things that aren't necessarily his all the time. Thomas is happy, he's happy. Thomas is sad, the entire world might be ending. Thomas is angry, he has to hide everything that looks even vaguely orange because something might explode. Thomas is depressed, he finds it hard to even get out of bed.

That extends to the Sides somewhat too; all of them experience heightened emotions, a wonderful by-product of being metaphysical and in the Mindscape. So that means that anything that might happen to them will happen in greater intensity than it would in the 'real world.' But sometimes that can be a little hard to handle, especially if they aren't used to it. For Roman, it looks like being stuck at the worst part of a tragic monologue for hours, for Logan, it looks like that one question on a test that you just can't answer, for Virgil, it's the quiet and unsettling feeling of having something just over your shoulder all the time, for Janus, it's the itch that you just can't scratch, for Remus, it's the noise that's just at the wrong frequency.

It's hard, it's hard for all of them, and so Patton takes it upon himself to help them through it. He takes Roman's hands and just holds them, trying to make him see that he doesn't have to perform, not now, not with him. He sits with Logan and they just talk, about nothing, about everything, until Logan can smile just a little and everything feels better. He puts a pair of headphones on Virgil and wraps him up in a weighted blanket, leaned against his chest. He spoils Janus with a spa day until their favorite snake is too tired to do anything but sleep. And he sings with Remus, as loud and off key as they can, until that's all they can hear.

It's good. It's fun. It's worth it to take care of his kiddos. But sometimes things we say when we're hurting can make other people hurt, and it's important to take care of that too.

Sometimes Patton forgets that. Sometimes he mumbles it's okay, they didn't mean it, through his own tears. Sometimes he has to go and be by himself for a while before he can come back and face them again. Sometimes he has to just…remind himself that they're hurting, and that's what's important.

That isn't true, of course, and when the rest of them find out, it's easy to see that they love him too. They play games until their sides hurt from laughing so much, they crowd around the kitchen to bake cookies and brownies and all manner of sweet treats, they watch movies and cuddle on the couch until they all fall asleep. And when he's upset, because he gets upset too, they all come into his room and tell him how much he means to them until the curtains turn blue again.

***

Logan works…a lot.

There is something to be said for how subtle yet pervasive the concept of Logic is. On first glance, one would associate it primarily with academics, math in particular, or some such thing that is so purely intellectual that it might seem limited in its application. When in reality, when you examine it further, there is some hint of Logic in just about everything that you do, and so there is no escape from the things that you must use it for in order to do it correctly.

Logan has a lot of work. Logan has a lot of work. He has so much work, in fact, that if he stopped to think about how much work he has, he would become so daunted by the prospect of staring at such a tall hill that he would never be able to conquer it. Best to deal with things one problem at a time, take them step by step, and make sure that he doesn't stop to consider the sheer magnitude of what he's doing.

Perhaps this isn't the healthiest way to go about it. Perhaps he would be better suited to breaking down things into more manageable hills, getting over them one step at a time, that sort of thing, but he has no time for that. In the time it would take to do that, the first of the manageable hills would already have become unmanageable by the time he got back to them. So this is how it must be, working and working and working until there is a big enough pause for him to catch his breath.

The others…are not fond of this. Surely, he accounts for enough time to spend with them, but it isn't easily won. It's fraught with the thoughts of what else he could be doing, a passing worry that he's missing something egregious, that he would be better suited to getting all of his work done before allowing himself a break. But that is not the nature of resting, that is the nature of rotting, even if Logan cannot actually give himself a break.

When they find out, they drag him away from his work and into the Imagination, into a library so full of wonder and curiosity that he has no choice but to stop thinking about his work and instead, chase the things he's actually interested in. He darts from bookshelf to bookshelf, peppering the others with did you know, did you know, did you know, and nothing they could say back will be as rewarding as seeing his eyes light up with excitement for the first time in…they can't remember how long it's been.

***

Virgil lives his life looking over his shoulder.

His existence is a constant struggle of did we remember to do this, did we forget this, what if this happens, this is going to go wrong, everything's going to explode in our faces. Every time they so much as leave the house, it's a war of keeping himself together just long enough to make it back so they don't have an embarrassing meltdown in the middle of…wherever they happen to be. The grocery store, the gym, even the fucking sidewalk. It's like walking through the world where there are big flashing neon signs everywhere he turns, each warning about something else awful and terrible, and yet somehow everyone else is able to completely ignore them.

It's terrifying.

And what's worse is that he knows if he so much as breathed a word of this to any of them, they wouldn't believe him. They'd do something like laugh and say he's just freaking out over nothing—which he knows, that's not doing anything to stop it from happening in the first place—or try and rationalize it out of him. Which won't work either, because he knows he's being irrational, that's why he's so mad about it in the first place, but realizing what's happening and being able to do something about it are two different things.

Being able to get himself grounded becomes more of a necessity than anything else. This big hoodie that lets him become an amorphous blob, the heavy things in his pockets he can squeeze when the temptation to break something gets too much, the headphones and earbuds he keeps stashed everywhere with the phone charger clipped to his belt because if he can't listen to music at a moment's notice, he might actually break down in tears. He has to keep himself alert, because if something's going to go wrong, he's going to need to notice it quickly so he can get everyone else on board and safe before it wrecks the rest of their lives.

And when he manages to shove that out of his mouth in an absolute mess of words, he's greeting not with laughs and teases, but with open arms and kind words. He's bundled into Remus's arms and Roman lies on top of them as Janus chuckles, hands carding through his hair to help silence the worst of the mumblings that something's going to go wrong. Logan takes his hand and squeezes it in the rhythm for breathing exercises as Patton sings something soft under his breath.

They're all in the same room. They're all safe. They're all going to be okay.

He can do this. He can do this.

He can do this.

***

Janus has gotten so good at lying to everyone that it's a wonder he even knows what the truth is himself.

Stories need antagonists. A narrative needs something to help it wind its way around all the twists and turns to make it into something worth following. If that means that the truth needs to be a little harder to find, that something needs to go a little wrong before it can be set to rights, well, he's happy to play the part. He's happy to thrill at the surprised looks he gets from the naive little heroes, the shock and betrayal on their faces when they realize he's tricked them, to cackle as they scramble to figure out what to do next.

He's equally thrilled to watch them squirm as he pokes and prods at their comfort zones. Challenging anyone who appears to be steadfast is endlessly entertaining, after all, and he can hardly blame himself when he's rewarded with such passionate monologues or fiery outbursts that end in grudging admittance that maybe he had a point all along. He's never been one to refrain from being smug, after all, and it would be a crime to deprive people of the right to see him in all his victorious glory.

Sometimes, though, that victory feels a little hollow. When it stops being a surprise and more of a resignation, when it's no longer something that they rise to meet but hunker down to grin and bear…when he wins, trouncing them soundly, and they take it on the chin and keep moving…that's not what this is for. He's here to make all of them feel a little something, even if it starts out badly, they should be proud of themselves when they outsmart him, out-think him, even when they don't win but they come close. He's a thorn in their side, not the sword that guts them before they have so much as a chance to say anything. And there's only so much fun that can be had toying with them before it feels like he's kicking a puppy for no reason.

He makes Roman cry once. He just stands there, staring at Janus, waiting for it to be over with tears streaming down his face. And when Janus stammers that yes, he's…he's done, Roman just leaves.

He doesn't want to just be the bad guy. He doesn't want them to think he doesn't care for them. He doesn't want them to be hurt, not…not in any way that actually matters.

He takes it on the chin, as he's seen them do, but it gets harder. Walking the line between fulfilling the role he's made for himself and actually being cruel is difficult, and tensions stretch further and further until one day, he can't do it and he has to retreat to his room and spend the rest of the day puzzling about how to fix this. He's never been the one to actually offer words of comfort. He's been there to lance infections from open wounds, not stitch them back together. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to believe anymore.

Roman comes to him first. Wraps him up in a hug and ignores all his babbling in favor of dragging him to their favorite picnic spot in the imagination. Everyone takes on a different role, just for that day, where Patton is the gardener that helps the baker, Logan, Roman and Remus are the woodcutters that build the cabins, Virgil is the blacksmith and Janus—Janus is the innkeeper. They spin a new story together, one where everyone gets a happy ending.

Stories end, after all, and new ones begin.

***

Remus wears shame like a badge of honor and the sweater he just can't manage to make himself throw away.

He delights in the uncomfortable, luxuriates in the madness, and happily dances along to the songs of the worst things you could ever imagine. His side of the Imagination is chaos and ruin, twisted undergrowth giving way to dark city scapes filled with ne'er-do-wells and the filth from stories that finally get their chance to steal the spotlight. He lovingly tends to his creatures that would send fainter hearts into shock, none more so than his beloved Kraken, Oliver. Shipwrecks litter the bottom of the Imagination's oceans and he couldn't be prouder.

For Remus, chaos is a way of life. He takes the things that normal people would scoff at—just as enthusiastically as he would scoff at them for being so boring—and makes it into art. He builds machines that are needlessly complicated and endlessly horrible. He turns perfect order into perfect disorder with a gleeful squeal. He's the bane of Logan and Roman's existences—one is affectionate, the other decidedly less so—and he steps into his bear traps with a grin on his face.

There are, of course, downsides. He's alone, a lot of the time. No one else really appreciates everything he does, all the hard work that goes into turning his world into the best it can be for him. Sure, they get close sometimes, like when there's an experiment and he and Logan get to go full mad-scientist, or when he and Janus are gleefully stirring all manner of shit up for everyone else, or when he and Roman throw literally everything they can at every sort of wall just to see what might stick. But when those times are over, and he's back to being the same old, messy Remus, he gets…lonely.

Especially when there's something that would make them think he's something else.

He's got a reputation. He's supposed to be dark, twisted, messy, chaotic, that sort of thing. He's annoying, the voices in your head that you just can't get to go away, the song that won't stop playing in your head at 2 in the morning when all you want to do is go to sleep.

He can't exactly expect them to believe him when he says the songs he wants to keep playing are something like…Taylor Swift.

He's got an image to maintain! And that image doesn't go well with, y'know…something like that. He's no stranger to other people's shame, but his own…well, he might get why people hate feeling it so much.

Roman, though, is his brother, and as such gets full rights to both tease him about things and find out whatever he wants to know. And Roman is his brother, which means that he loves him unconditionally. So maybe the two of them can sing along to Taylor Swift at 3 in the morning and if Roman takes the fall for being the one obsessed with her stuff, well, that's for them to know and Janus to find out when he figures out what Roman's lying about this time.

It's fine, they'll just make him listen to 'no body, no crime.' That song's right up his alley.

***

Roman is tired.

He's just…really tired.

Being the prince, being Thomas's Hopes and Dreams, his Creativity—well, half of it—trying to keep everything afloat…it's tiring.

The others don't know this—well, Remus might—but he's the main anchor point between Thomas and the Mindscape. They're all products of Thomas's imagination, which he uses his Creativity to make and interact with, which means that…them, the Mindscape, the Imagination, it's…well, he has to spend a lot of energy to keep it the way it is.

It's tiring.

So sometimes, he doesn't have it in him to play the role. Sometimes he can't focus on staying away long enough to do all the work they want him to do on top of all the stuff they don't know he's doing. And sometimes…sometimes it's just a little bit too much.

They find him on the floor of his room one night, just watching the moon. They gather blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and build a little nest, right there around him. Remus opens the door to the Imagination to lighten a little bit of the load and Logan helps Patton coax Thomas the rest of the way to sleep, letting them shift to the dreaming mind instead.

He's so tired. Surrounded by the others, with his mind at peace, he finally gets some rest.

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[miguel-manbemel]

There's one thought that came to me today about Sanders Sides, and specifically the nature of the Sides. So many people have missed one important, crucial point about the Sides. They're not human, and I don't mean that they can shapeshift, appear and disappear and all that stuff. I mean that each of the Sides represents just one limited zone of c!Thomas' psyche, and therefore they're only confined to that zone of Thomas.

What does it mean to judge them as humans? It means many people demand of them the complexity of action humans have, the same capacity to grow and evolve as if they were a fully fledged human, and that, my friends, just cannot happen, because it's not in their nature. I'll try to explain my point. We've seen the Sides learn and grow from different situations they went through in the past, and I say "have we?"

Don't mean they didn't go through the situations, I mean, did they really get a long term growth? In some cases they did, in others, the growth was incomplete or null, because the Sides are only able to grow in their own area of action in Thomas' psyche, and will remain, not oblivious, but, like that student that simply doesn't get how to solve a problem at school, and tries and tries to solve it right, but it just doesn't stick in their head. They will only learn the part of the solution in their area of expertise, and the rest will simply not stick at all.

For instance, Virgil knows if he causes a panic attack, Thomas will suffer and that will help no one, but he just can't help it, it's in his nature to cause panic attacks if the conditions are met. Other example, Roman knows that too much fantasy can be harmful, it can disconnect you from reality and that can break Thomas' heart. He knows, he's been told, but he can't help it. He's literally Thomas' dreams. Same way, Patton cannot escape the morality he was created with during Thomas' growth, Janus can't help making Thomas deceitful, Remus will show his creative thoughts at all cost no matter how it makes Thomas suffer, and Logan will always have problems to put feelings in the equation when trying to find solutions to an issue.

Does that mean that the whole show is a lie and the Sides are hopeless beings that can't learn from their mistakes? Not entirely, because when they face issues, they all face them together as a team, they go through them together and find a global solution that can help Thomas grow.

Then why do they revert back after learning so much about Thomas in the past? As I said, any item the Sides are not capable to learn according to their nature will not fully stick and they'll be prone to repeat problematic attitudes, even if they try not to.

What can be done then? The solution comes from Thomas. The Sides are Thomas and Thomas is all of them, and most important, he knows, or is learning, how to combine the different aspects of himself. In another analogy, the Sides and Thomas are like an orchestra and the orchestra conductor. Each instrument has only access to their partiture and can only play their own sound, even if they know how they're all supposed to sound together, only Thomas has the full information of the song, and only he can tell any of the Sides when to play and when to stand back.

To be fair, Thomas still doesn't have the full partiture ready, he's still writing on the fly, that's why the song is incomplete and both the Sides and Thomas are still struggling, but as the series goes on, the song keeps writing itself, slowly but surely and when it's complete, Thomas will have the full song and will learn how to make their Sides sound perfect in harmony...

Well, most probably, the song will never be fully complete or perfect, but eventually it will reach a grade of completion enough to make Thomas and his Side harmonious enough to make good, melodious songs. That is, eventually, Thomas will know how to be the best of a person he can be, because no one is perfect, but he will learn how to feel good enough, and how to be happy with himself and get as best as he can be.

That means the Sides will learn how each can help the other Sides in the areas they lack expertise so they don't repeat the same mistakes from the past. But they must learn to work together to reach that goal, they can't do it each on their own. When they learn this ultimate lesson, everything will get better for Thomas and the Sides.

[can-i-take-a-stab]

I think one of the biggest problems of the fandom (in terms of the sides) is falling for character facade and over exaggerating character traits/making up character traits based on a singular occurrence. Like;

“Logan has no feelings.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

“Roman is overly confident and full of himself.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

“Patton is a sweet, innocent, angel bean that would never do anything wrong.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

“Virgil is anxious all the time and can’t do anything himself without having a panic attack.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

“Janus is evil and cruel to everyone.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

“Remus doesn’t care about any of the other sides.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

Like, I get it if it’s an au; but when you base it off canon, you gotta try to understand the character. Not saying you have to spend hours digging deep into the character’s personality or whatever, I just think you should try to see more than what’s on the outside. AND STOP MAKING CRAP UP ABOUT THEM AND EXAGGERATING CERTAIN THINGS ABOUT THEM THAT WOULD COMPLETELY CHANGE/RUIN THEIR CHARACTER WHEN EXAGGERATED OTHERWISE- THIS ISN’T THE 2018 SANDERS SIDES GACHA COMMUNITY

Alright, thank you :3

[ts-sides-head-canon]

...ya know what time it is??

Platonic Analogical headcannons.

(There shall also be a bit of Romantic Prinxiety and Intrulogical)

Le go!

Virgil and Logan both have a mutual understanding that sometimes the others can be too much, when they feel this way they just go to each others rooms and just sit there enjoying each others company for a while, generally until they're called out for food.

Virgil and Logan have both learned morse code in order to have a sort of secret language to communicate in, this has resulted in them making their own version of an SOS, SOB, which stands for Sick Of Bullshit.

Virgil is constantly getting Logan into new analogue horrors and ARG's that they then try to figure out together.

On a similar note, Logan and Virgil can have really indepth conversations about cryptids, and they have come to some hilarious conclusions. They think moth man is a cross dresser.

Virgil has introduced Logan to Tumblr memes and such, and the two have many inside jokes. They also do the whole "nice shoelaces. " "Thanks, I stole them from the president." bit.

The only thing the two fight about is the creative twins, namely each one of them thinks they're dating the superior twin, and they're never gonna let the other win.

Loagn actually learned first aid from Virgil, who learned it ages ago from Janus. Virgil also knows how to fight and is giving self-defense lessons to the others.

Lastly, Logan doesn't actually think he's good at helping with panic attacks because of his struggle with emotions, but he is good when Virgil's not fully in panic mode, either when he's starting to calm down or before the panic attack has taken full effect. Virgil often ends up heading to Logan to stave off panic attacks because of how comforting it is to have someone who understands the world.

Hope you like my ideas! Farewell for the moment!

Just woke up from my nap to this! These are so cool, I really love the idea of Logan and Virgil tapping in Morse Code very angrily like:

My boyfriend is better!

No mine is!

[monkeythefander]

Sanders Sides Angst Headcannons 2

A lot of people liked my angst headcannons from a while back, so here’s some new ones.

Content Warning(s): Virgil angst, Character Thomas angst, anxiety, being called “too sensitive”, Roman angst, nightmares, mentioned injuries and fights, Logan angst, destroying things. Let me know if I missed anything.

Click below the cut to read the headcannons

——————————————————————

- When he was younger, Virgil would cry whenever he got super overwhelmed/anxious. As a result, (Character) Thomas would cry during these times as well. As (Character) Thomas got older though, he was called “too sensitive” for crying over seemingly small things/worries, which led to Virgil unconsciously deciding he wouldn’t cry in front of people anymore. So whenever Virgil gets super anxious and upset, he’ll make sure he and (Character) Thomas aren’t around anyone else so nobody can see them cry and call them “too sensitive.” If they happen to be around people at the time, Virgil will try and have himself and (Character) Thomas suppress their tears until they’re alone.

- Since Roman is creativity, nightmares can become very vivid. He will often wake up in a panic from them, confused about where he is since the nightmare felt so real and like it just happened. Sometimes the nightmares get some vivid they he’ll wake up with injuries that he got during fights/attacks in his nightmares. Roman will then try and hide these injuries from the other sides, not wanting to worry them. After all, he’s creativity, he should be able to control how intense his nightmares are and if he can’t, then he should have to face the consequences of his failure alone.

- Logan suppressing his emotions in order to have the others listen to him leads to a lot of anger and sadness building up inside of him. To release all of these emotions, Logan ends up destroying things in his room. He’ll put on a fan or something to block out the noise of his destructive behavior, and start knocking things off his desk and bookshelf. He’ll also break his glasses. If he breaks his glasses, then he doesn’t have to see the tears starting to fall down his face. Once Logan’s tears stop and he feels like he can be just logical/unemotional, he’ll grab a new pajr of glasses (he has a bunch of replacement ones) and put his room back in order.

——————————————————————

End Notes: Thanks for reading! As always, if you liked any of these headcannons and want to make fanart or fanfiction based on them, you can do so as long as you ask me first, and then credit/tag me in the post so I can see it.

-Monkey💜

————————

AO3 link to these headcannons: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58261513

[boneyspades]

I'm not that well known that this'll be really seen but I've been thinking about this for like A WHILE-

since I'm a musician and I'm doing a music related course in uni and since the SaSi hyper fixation has me in a chokehold it got me thinking...

THE SIDES IF THEY WERE IN A BAND (or were musical artists idk)

use these for Ur band Aus or something idk

also I'm thinking of making a part 2 of like side duos and what types of songs they'd make if they collab'd so lemme know if U want that

Roman

bro would definitely would be on the vocals Ong

he'd probably know many classical instruments like violin or a flute (this is more cus of aesthetic purposes)

he'd be a PAIN to work with in the studio ngl

his way or no way, and if it's not his way he has a tanty

during sound checks or tuning other instruments he'd just riff obnoxiously (everyone would tell him to shut the fuck up)

as a solo artist he'd probably make theater like songs or just some girly pop songs

Sabrina Carpenter is his inspo (used to be Beyonce but uh..... I think we know why that isn't the case anymore)

would probably be a good person to ask for lyrics

would practice his thank you speech for Grammys even if he's not even nominated

Logan

ngl he'd be the one behind the mixing desk

if not he'd probably know piano/keys or bass since he's not the type of to be over the top (no one pays attention to the bass which SUCKS CMON GUYS-)

more fascinated on the production side of music

he's the one setting up the equipment since everyone else is "too stupid" to help (maybe besides virgil but we'll get to him soon)

by the end of a sesh he has a headache cus he has to get Roman and Remus to STOP FUCKING SCREAMING OMFG-

soloing he'd probably make lo-fi chill music to study to or something like Pink Floyd or maybe even some Radiohead songs or Billie Eilish songs

he'd research certain topics for lyrics.

WORD ASSOCIATION GAME AH RAPPING (think One Week by Barenaked Ladies)

Virgil

(ok I'm really excited to do this one since virgil and I r really similar)

bro SLAYYYYYYS the electric guitar and bass but is too nervous to really admit it or really play in front of others

has probably had many panic attacks after messing up alot (which tbh same)

helps Logan with setting up equipment (he's the only one that Logan actually trusts with it)

also knows drums??? (I'm also a drummer and he's literally me let me live my life)

DISTORTION PEDALSSSSS

virgil: "I dunno if I can do this guys like really I'm not that good I should just lea-"

patton probably: "Awh, c'mon Virgil! you got this! it's gonna be ok!

Virgil: "well i-if you say so..."

*proceeds to absolutely shred TF out of the guitar*

knows how to do vocal fry screams (metal screams) and does it alot

Remus and virgil Collab ALOT since they're kinda similar in taste

by himself he'd make emo music or any type of like emo rockish song which honestly I think is a surprise to no one

dream collaborator is Gerard way

many many stickers on his guitar

Patton

honestly doesn't really care what instrument he gets he just wants to have fun

vocals and rhythm guitar most of the time whilst virgil has lead (he's gotta let his bestie have his spotlight)

always brings snacks to the studio even tho Logan always tells him not to (he wants the studio to be nice and neat)

wants to Collab with EVERYONE (besides the obvious bad ones ofc)

if the songs they're making as a band are slow and melancholy in the slightest, the water works will start FLOWINNNG ONG

soloing he'd make kids songs or just songs that r just obnoxiously happy or marketable (or something that sounds like the Beatles)

would also write sad songs when he needs to express his feelings, thanks to virgil for giving him advice

always asking the other sides to Collab and make acoustic covers of songs (especially with Janus, virgil and Roman)

Remus

(again, excited for this one cus he my fav and also were similar)

oh god no.

hed be on drums (twinning:3) but would also know guitar

GOD HELP U IF UR EVER IN A ROOM WITH REMUS AND THERES ANY INSTRUMENT IN SAID ROOM

he is trying to make everyone annoyed by just making the LOUDEST amount of noises (He's slamming his arms on the piano rabidly, he's putting the guitar amps on full and playing all strings as hard as he can, etc)

bro hits the drums H A R D

has probably broken a kick drum a few times(it's a wheel spin on who he has pay for it between Logan, Janus and Patton)

BANNED from using the production equipment for obvious reasons.

messes with the equipment anyways

the BEST at metal vocals (taught Virgil how to do it)

sings songs but replaces the lyrics with inappropriate words

twinning with Roman, when the others r trying to sound check or tune their instruments, he's SCREAMING IN THE MICS LIKE A LUNATIC

soloing, he's either making the type of metal where the vocals r just screaming vocals where no one knows what he's saying (maybe like death metal???), the most cuntiest sex songs like Aisha erotica or just songs that sound like "I staple tapeworms on my penis" (I kid U not this is a real song, here it is for reference↓)

virgil and Remus Collab alot (I said this before but i can't help but think they're besties)

Janus

bro would be the KING of jazz in the mindscape

he'd probably do vocals, saxophone, violin, cello and keys/piano

always comes to the session late. its all about him so everyone else doesn't matter.

if one of the other sides can't make it for some reason, Janus would take their place (tho realistically all of the sides CAN mimic eachother, I feel like Janus does it better than the others since he practices ALOT more)

also messes with the equipment but doesn't go as elaborate as Remus, he just does the simple and subtle things

fights with Roman ALOT about the stupidest of things

kinda an asshole to work with depending on who U r

Logan: "hey, Janus can you just move the mic further away from you please?"

Janus: "of course.." *proceeds to purposely move the mic closer to himself just to fuck with Logan*

soloing, he'd make songs like frank Sinatra or Peggy Lee or something, just very jazzy bluesy type things.

likes to Collab with Patton but won't ever admit it (as you can tell I loved the into the unknown vid)

will ALWAYS supply the wine mostly for him and Logan cus they fucking need it-

and C!Thomas is just the manager if Logan isn't it already

and that's it idk

[analoceits]

here is my insane all the sides are body horror agenda [obvious tw for gore/body-horror ish stuff - under the cut bc. descriptions of gore - no pictures]

logan: he is the only side with completely normal organs and body! completely. normal. down to the inch. he is a living medical textbook. you could take him apart and measure his organs exactly. he promises. hes Tested.

patton: he Looks normal on the outside, and mostly, he is! he looks like thomas mostly. but.. he doesnt really.. bother. with the inside stuff. it makes him squeamish. (logan xrayed him once- and said only one word after. "soup.")

roman: he doesnt let himself scar. no matter how large the wounds he gets are, his skin will be porcelain as always. as well, he looks the youngest out of all the sides. he has no wrinkles or beauty marks. his heartbeat is to the rhythm of whatever song hes listening too.

virgil: mostly fine, except.. whenever he has a panic attack. his rib cage will shift and lock around his lungs. his heart will beat absurdly fast (logan has record 900 bpm once). outside of that, he bleeds so easily - even if he just bites his nails. if patton hugs him too hard, and he gets nervous, his ribs will cave in.

janus: probably second weirdest. his body is always fighting itself, in between snake and human. he gets horrifically sick regularly; with the human half of his body rejecting the snake like a transplant, and vice versa. new scales will tear through his skin and make him bleed for hours. he will crave a mouse, eat it, and then throw it up.

remus: hes covered in scars. his organs are constantly being dissolved, reformed, fusing, and dissolving again. he can and will break all his bones on command. he can do wolverine claws. occasionally he'll get bored and just start. going through rigor mortis. for the bit.

[gloryride]

NETWATCH RAPPORT - 20740512 : Agent 44421-N - SARTO, VIRGILE - had a panic attack during deep net session. The circumstances surrounding this incident are not yet known. The most likely hypothesis is an attack by a rogue AI, causing the system to malfunction or even hallucinate. Sarto woke up, started shaking, ripped out his cable, started screaming and calling for help. He fell from his chair, crawling before falling unconscious to the floor. Sarto has been under psychiatric care since his arrival at NetWatch, and his doctor has clearly indicated that he is being treated for his anxiety and depression, but that his regular use of drugs and alcohol is not helping the situation, nor is his break-up with Evelyn Parker. Rest day allowed: 1

set was possible thanks to @86maylin and her awesome glowing eyes mods !!

[part-time-zombie]

Old Habits

pairings: anxceit (platonic, can be seen as romantic)

summary: virgil remembers how to deal with nightmares and panic attacks, and he doesn't want to remember who used to be there to help him. janus isn't forgetting anytime soon.

tags: panic attack, probably poorly described, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, janus still cares, virgil wishes he didn't

word count: 1711

a/n: i wrote this after reading a post(?) saying how you can deal with anxiety/panic attacks by sucking on an ice cube so the cold shocks you out of the panic, and i decided to use it for this fic.

Virgil was used to nightmares. He’s had to deal with them for most if not all of his life, and by now he’d gotten used to bolting awake in the middle of the night, heart pounding in his ears. When that happens, he usually only needs a minute or two to get a hold of himself before he can lie back down and go back to bed. Sometimes, he needs to resort to more extreme measures. Music helps, as does pacing back and forth down the hall until his nerves finally ease up. Still, he remembers the nights when he’d all but fall out of bed, breathless and panicked and in desperate need of proof that he was alright. Those nights used to be easier before.

Tonight is one of those nights, with a particularly terrible dream haunting him even after he woke up with a scream trapped in his throat. He looked around the room, seeing nothing but danger in every shadow and corner. He wasn’t safe here, he needed to get out.

Throwing the sheets aside and standing on shaky legs, Virgil stumbled to his door and all but fell into the wall on the other side of the hall with a painfully loud thud. Sliding numbly down the wall, he collapsed limply to the floor, the impact forcing a gasp from him. He tried to think past his own pounding heartbeat and the tightness in his chest to get his bearings. He needs to get up. The others could have heard him, they’ll wake up and see him like this and it’ll only get worse. He needs to go, if not to his room then downstairs to the living room. He can ride the rest of this out on the couch there.

One look at the stairs left him reeling. Bad idea, there was no way he would be able to make it down those without falling and breaking his neck. He can’t stay here, though. He has to at least try to stand, before he gets seen by-

“Virgil?”

Janus’ visage crept into his periphery, and Virgil felt like the world was going to end. Why did it have to be Janus? It could have been anyone else and he wouldn’t have complained, but it had to be Janus that found him like this. As if tonight couldn’t get any worse.

“Another nightmare, I gather?” Janus asked.

Virgil couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. His chest was tight and his heart was pounding in his ears and he couldn’t breathe.

“Guess so.”

Janus moved closer, eventually kneeling down until he was eye level with Virgil. There was no mockery or coldness in his eyes, only understanding.

“I’m not going to ask you to talk, but I do need you to try to breathe. Can you do that?”

Virgil did his best to nod, forcing his lungs to work even if by a little. It was tough, and almost painful to draw even a small breath, but he still tried to at least start breathing. He had to try; it was the first step in calming back down and he knew that, but getting his brain to cooperate right now was nearly impossible.

“The floor can’t be very comfortable for you. Would you rather have a breakdown on the couch or in my room? Something tells me your room would only make matters worse, but if you want we can still do that.”

Virgil tried to focus past the panicked haze in his head to think. He really doesn’t want to be in the hall. Someone would see him, well, someone else, and the floor was cold and hard and only made it harder to calm down. His bed was comfortable enough, but his mind was still insistent on it being unsafe. That’s where the nightmare was from, he’s not going back there.

Janus offered his room, and as nice as it sounded to collapse into a bed and be wrapped warmly in weighted sheets, it couldn’t be Janus’ room to do that. It just couldn’t.

The ache in his chest made the simple act of talking painful, so Virgil instead jerked his head in the direction of the stairs, hoping Janus would get the hint.

Janus understood, shifting until he was kneeling beside him. “I’m not about to have you walk while you’re like this, which means I have to carry you. Any complaints?”

Virgil had many, but it’s not like he was capable of voicing them right now. Not when it felt like his whole chest had collapsed. As long as he made it to the couch in one piece, he’d be fine. He can always sucker punch Janus for it later.

Virgil begrudgingly nodded, and Janus immediately picked him up with ease. He held Virgil in a slightly more dignified version of the princess carry, and slowly walked down the stairs, letting Virgil's head fall heavily against his chest the whole while. It was beyond embarrassing being held like this by Janus of all sides, but hearing his steady heartbeat guiding his own into a more relaxed rhythm was unfortunately very helpful, and Virgil wished he didn’t find some level of comfort from it.

Janus made it to the couch and carefully set Virgil down, giving him enough space to get comfortable again before speaking.

“Now, try to breathe again. You know you need to do that to start feeling better.”

Of course Virgil did, this happens all the damn time. The problem is, it’s hard to do anything when he can hardly think, and right now it felt like his lungs were being squeezed so tightly they’d explode. He couldn’t try to breathe right now; he could hardly think about anything other than the horrible pain in his chest.

Janus seemed to notice, as he sighed and straightened back up.

“Right. Just keep trying and I’ll be right back, alright?” he said, before walking off somewhere behind him.

For the briefest of moments Virgil felt himself panic at his sudden absence, but he tried his best to focus on his breathing instead. Why the hell should he be upset about Janus leaving? It’s not like they’re close, he has no reason to care about him. God, he’s probably waking Remus up so he can make things worse. They’ll both come back and laugh so loudly that the others will wake up too. Virgil felt his lungs burning from a lack of oxygen, and he realized all too quickly that he had stopped breathing again. He couldn’t breathe. Janus left him, he’s going to make this worse, he’s going to let him die here on the couch, he’s-

“Didn’t I tell you to keep breathing?” Janus teased, returning to his side. Virgil noticed he was alone, with no one else there to make a scene.

“I was just getting something, alright? Let’s try to breathe again, shall we?”

Virgil could hardly listen to what he was saying, but he knew he had to get his lungs to work again. Closing his eyes and focusing as best as he could, he forced as much air as possible into his lungs. Granted it wasn’t a lot, and it hurt like hell, but it was a start.

“That’s it, now try to say something for me.”

Virgil opened his mouth to at least try to talk, only to feel something startlingly cold forced past his lips. He gasped, trying to spit it out, but Janus held his hand firmly over his mouth before he could even try.

“It’s ice from the freezer, sweetie. I’m not trying to kill you or anything. I know it’s cold, and that’s the point. Focus on that and nothing else.”

How the hell could he think about anything other than that? The ice was almost painfully cold, and he was forced to swallow the melting water as it thawed in his mouth. His lungs opened up, working to regulate the sudden shift in internal temperature, and Virgil felt his heart eventually slow down as a result. The longer the ice stayed in his mouth, the more he found himself focusing on the cold instead of the nightmare from earlier and the fear that followed. In fact, it was getting far easier to breathe, and the realization reminded Virgil to take deeper breaths, much to Janus’ approval.

By the time the ice had fully melted, Virgil was finally breathing normally again. Janus withdrew his hand with a smile, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said with a nod. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Now what do you say to a drink?”

Virgil looked over at him, where he was already holding a glass of ice water.

Now that he mentioned it, Virgil was awfully thirsty. He shrugged before taking the glass in a slightly shaky hand and drinking heartily, poorly feigning an attempt at looking nonchalant.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to tell me what had you so spooked?”

“You guessed correctly,” Virgil rasped in response, the glass already nearly empty by the time he had finished his drink. “I also don’t want to talk about tonight with you later. As far as I’m concerned, it didn’t happen at all.”

“It’s not like anything different happened.”

“That’s the thing. This used to be normal, stuff like this happening between us, but now…“ Virgil sighed. “Now I just don’t know.”

Janus gave him a soft look, one that almost looked hurt. “Why not? This new normal doesn’t have to destroy what we had before. Who’s to say we can’t fall back into routine every now and then? I’ve already looked past everything that happened between us. The only one holding a grudge here is you.”

“Can you blame me?”

Janus sighed, eyes downcast. “No, I suppose not. Just know, I’ll still be around if you ever need me. I still remember what to do for you, and I’ll always help you out.”

“Why?”

Janus gave him a small but wistful smile. “Old habits.”

With that he rose from his seat and returned to his room, leaving Virgil by himself on the couch. Even after all this time, Janus still knew him. Virgil almost wished he didn’t.

@lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @new-zee-land @rougeside4 @britt-ish123 @nico-the-overlord @can-i-take-a-stab @keitaisghost @yuckypuppie

[disneybrandautism]

i think virgil and roman are each others emotional support person.

hear me out.

after “dealing with intrusive thoughts” virgil realizes that roman is more than just sunshine’s and rainbows. And that roman has real fears. he’s terrified of being replaced so the week after he pumps out more ideas than ever to be “useful” and virgil realizes what’s going on.

they help each other out.

when roman’s spiraling virgil will be like a human weighted blanket and he will reassure roman in anyway he can.

when virgil is spiraling roman keeps him company and talks him down from his panic attacks.

it’s a system and it works.