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hermitcraftheadcanons · 4 years ago

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Scattered AU Conclusion

To tie up the Scattered AU, I have written a short conclusion. I can't even express how much I've enjoyed working with all of you on this, and once again I have to say I've been absolutely blown away by the number of contributions there were. I am so happy that this idea was loved, and I hope all of you continue to take joy from it even after the official end of the event. Once again, thank you.

I tried to cover as many Hermits as I could here, but my energy ran out partway through. Feel free to add on an ending for anyone I've missed. Also, it's worth mentioning that this conclusion is not the only possible ending and does not overwrite any other endings submitted for the AU. This universe is a multi-branched thing, and the timeline of the story is flexible depending on what makes you happy. With that being said, I hope you enjoy this small effort to keep up with all your boundless creativity. 💙

After a long discussion, the Hermits decide to stay in the season 8 world instead of starting a new one. They will take this broken wreck of a place and turn it into something beautiful, just like they have every season. They will heal alongside the world they created, fixing what glitches remain as they support each other and make their best effort at recovery.

Impulse settles in the desert, with Tango and Zedaph close by him. The hot air stings his transformed body, but he is more than done with water for now. Maybe one day he will return to it - but not this season. For now, he keeps the air in his base humid, learns to build with sandstone, and invites his friends over often. Sometimes they talk about the things they all went through, but mostly, they just talk about all the normal things friends talk about. How their day went, what might be causing Tango's latest farm to malfunction, how Zed is going to pull off his next wild plan... they're just glad to have each other back. They're just happy to not have to be alone and afraid anymore.

Cleo is rezombified with the help of Joe, Stress, and False, as soon as they can manage it. Nobody really understands why she wants that, but no-one really needs to - it's her choice. It's what she needs to feel whole again. Seeming vital and normal to the outside world is not nearly as important to her as being herself is, and the others are glad to see her back to her former undead glory. Returned to her familiar form, she laughs and jokes in a way much more alive than she ever seemed when her heart was actually beating.

Jevin keeps every single axolotl he found on his and X's journey through the caves. His mind returned slowly back to normal after Xisuma fixed the plugins, and focusing on the adorable creatures helped him to control the lingering aggressive tendencies as he recovered. Now, when another Hermit seems to be having a hard time, he'll let them borrow an axolotl to take care of until they feel better. It helps to ground them and give them a sense of control, and reminds them all how lucky they are to be alive in this strange, updated world.

Scar struggled. For a long time after the events of the early season, he struggled. He claimed he could control this new level of Vex power, but more and more, he felt as though he was being subjected to it rather than using it. He could feel himself slipping more and more every day, and it scared him, so much that he couldn't even say anything...but the others noticed. Cub's own connection to the Vex told him that this wasn't a sustainable way for Scar to live. Together with Mumbo, he formed a plan. Using Mumbo's new Evoker power, they summoned the Vex that was controlling Scar and broke its hold. Scar is more vulnerable to deals with the Vex now, and it will be a long time before he can visit the End again without feeling weak, but he's more than happy to feel like himself again. Eventually, TFC talks him through his fear of the End - talking himself through his own fear in the process. He offers to go with Scar the first time he decides to return. Both of them find the obstacle more manageable with a friend.

Ren, Grian, and Doc find themselves drawn to each other even after things go back to "normal", not wanting to be alone again. In fact, many of the groups that formed in the more than a year since the world started remain intact. Whether for comfort or protection, or just sharing resources, the Hermits continue to rely on each other. That trio specifically has something new in common - with Grian's new foxlike features, they are all mob hybrids now. They share experiences and support each other, and they can often be found gathering around a fire to tell stories. None of them particularly fancies the cold anymore.

After all that they went through, nobody feels very strongly about banning Evil Xisuma again. His crimes are so far in the past by now, and it feels wrong to condemn him to a future of darkness and isolation when he's already gone through so much of that this season. He doesn't live on the server permanently, preferring to wander off and cause mischief elsewhere, but when he does visit Hermitcraft he stays with Hypno. They bond over a desire to stay on the outskirts and a persistent fear of flowers. They live in a base in the ocean, not a blossom in sight.

XB and Iskall live in the jungle, close enough to see each other but far enough so they don't feel pressured to talk. Both of them feel slightly guilty for getting separated in the desert, but neither of them want to be the first to apologize. Their conversation happens in stops and starts, not in one big rush - but they get there. Eventually, they get there.

Etho drifts. For what seems like an age after the glitches are fixed, he drifts. He talks to the Beetlejhost, sends messages through him sometimes, even manages to manifest in a way others can see occasionally - but that takes a lot of energy. Mostly, he just drifts. He hovers especially around Xisuma, who works for hours on fixing his code. The world can't be considered fixed until everyone is here. Nothing can be fully right until all of his Hermits are safe. It's the hardest admin challenge he's taken on yet, but it's worth it. When he gets to finally hug Etho again, it's worth it. When he brings him to the shopping district and presents him to the other Hermits with tired eyes and a grateful heart, here and real and alive again, it's worth it. It is more than worth it.

Nothing will ever be the same again. That much is obvious. Though the world was fixed and the season went on, the physical changes and emotional wounds are too lasting to be erased, no matter how much time goes by and how much the Hermits support each other. No matter what, the things they went through are unforgettable. Nothing will ever be the same again - but it doesn't need to be.

What is broken will heal back differently, what was changed will be adapted to. New things will be created, new habits will be formed, and for each new fear and trauma there will be a new kindness to match. It won't erase what happened, won't make the pain of the past any less real - but it will help. Healing is not a return to one's original state. Healing is progress. And, together, the Hermits are making progress.

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And, there it is! The inbox will stay closed for another day after this (because I do occasionally need a break), and then it will be open again for regular Hermitcraft headcanons. If you have made any art or writing for the Scattered AU that hasn't been posted yet, please feel free to send that in too! Chances are if you just tagged this blog without sending me a link, it probably got lost in the flood of notifications.

#hcraft #hermitcraftheadcanons #hermitcraft #hermitblr #scattered au #mod shade

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valkyrieelysia18 · 4 years ago

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RWBY Rewrite: The Relics

Hello there everyone! I’m back with another post on my Rewrite series that hopefully will delight you.

Admittedly, this might be an odd topic after my last post. Well, that one was pretty big and I wanted something a bit smaller to tackle. I had thought about getting into the White Fang next, but that post is going to be a dozy and then I thought of the Relics. And I thought “Sure, that’ll work.”

The Relics, in my opinion, were handled poorly in the show. Items that can grant great power and when collected something amazing/terrible have been done before and done well (which is honestly true a lot of stuff in RWBY). In RWBY, we didn’t know the Relics existed until over halfway through Volume 4, reduced the Maidens to essentially gate keys in Volume 5, and even at the end of Volume 6 we only know what the lamp can do on its own. I mean come on, Dragon Ball took one episode to explain its titular item (granted they were a lot more simple, but still)! So we’re going to tackle these things.

Now before we get into the individual items, let’s address some things that about the Items as a whole.

The first thing to note about the Relics in this Rewrite is that gathering the four together won’t summon the Gods back to Remnant. The Brothers in this Rewrite are much more distant figures, preferring to observe their creations rather than directly interfering.

So then, why does Salem want to collect them? The full reason will be in her and Ozpin’s backstory post, but to put it simply Salem has a more personal history with the Relics here and wishes to get them back. She views that leaving them in the hands of mortals will just lead to them abusing the items, causing more pain and suffering for the world. Not an entirely baseless viewpoint as we’ll get into soon enough.

The next thing to note is that before the Relics were under the care of the Academies and Ozpin’s group, each was possessed by a former Royal Family. Vale had Choice, Mistral had Knowledge, Vacuo had Destruction, and Mantle had Creation. Granted as time passed and certain things were failed to be passed on, by the time of the Great War only the Crown of Choice’s abilities were known and even then only to a select few.

Each Relic will have a have a spirit that will be involved with the item’s power. I’m not sure whether it was said in RWBY after I left that each Relic had a spirit or whether Jinn was an exception, but I’m going to roll with the first one. Also, each Spirit technically doesn’t have a biological sex, they choose how they want to look.

Also, only the Lamp will have the blue glow. The other Relics will associated with the color of their kingdom: the Staff having a White crystal, the Sword having an Orange gleaming blade, and a Green jewel in the center of the Crown. They can still have the gold, but this will make them more distinct from each other.

Finally, they are NOT the major Grimm magnets as presented in the original show. While they do give off a sort of a signature that Grimm can recognize, it’s a faint one. It would attract Grimm attention if it stayed out for too long in the wild or Grimm would be looking for it in an area if Salem directed them personally to it.

All right, now let’s get down to business!

Knowledge: Jinn

The Lamp of Knowledge is the only Relic we’ve gotten to know it’s full abilities as well as meet its spirit. Even then, I think that three questions every a hundred years is maybe a little too limited for something that is a power of the gods. So, I’m changing it.

Instead of granting three questions within a certain time frame, I like the idea of giving anyone who uses the lamp the ability to ask Jinn one question of the past and present. Everyone is entitled to knowledge after all and they should determine how they want to use it. I know, I kind of stole the idea from the scepter from the direct to video Aladdin King of Thieves, but I think it’s a good setup. It’s powerful, but it still has limitations. This will contrast with its opposite the Crown, which will be more exclusive and deal with the future.

Then there’s Jinn and am I the only who thought her design was lazy? I mean we get it, she’s a genie, but there’s nothing interesting or unique in her design. Pretty sure comparisons to Aladdin’s Genie and Magi’s Paimon have been made. I’d leave her redesign to someone who is fully capable of putting a new spin on it, but I would like the idea of her not having a consistent wardrobe. Maybe have her wear a top that was similar to something found in Central Mistral while wearing a hairpiece you would identify being at home in Eastern Mistral. Not only would this symbolize how multicultural Mistral is, but also how history is made of many different parts.

Now Jinn herself wouldn’t be that different of a character from canon. She would still be a rather pleasant, teasing spirit who is quite thrilled to finally be out of the Vault again. Amongst the Relic spirits, she’s probably the one who has the least regard for mortals, but that’s partly because of what people usually use her for. Most people would ask about power, riches, dark secrets; it got kind of boring and predictable for Jinn and it was less pleasant when they would get mad at her for telling them truths they didn’t want to hear. Let’s just say a few rulers of Mistral that used her Relic didn’t use it very wisely.

Jinn’s favorite type of petitioner would be someone like Oobleck: someone who would ask her about some part of history that doesn’t have much known about it and she doesn’t get to talk about nearly as much as she’d like to so she actually goes into more detail than necessary. She’d also respect someone who probably knows the answer she’s going to give them is not one they want to hear, but is resolved to face the truth whatever it is.

Creation: Eve/Ev

The Staff of Creation is a bit interesting in that works better for some than others. It uses what a person pictures in their mind to bring what they want to reality, within reason. So it really works best with someone very creative and has a clear vision of what they want to do. It can’t create something that’s alive (like a dog) or that had been living (like someone who has passed on). Also, the more detailed and involved an item is, the longer it will take for the Staff to recharge. For example, the little crystals (which are basically a crystallized form of the staff’s power) Ironwood has been creating as an alternative energy source would take a couple of hours to a day depending on how many were created at a time. Whereas a huge detailed palace would take decades to over a century, longer than it would have taken them to build in real time.

Eve is the Spirit of Creation and would have a rather androgynous appearance. I was also thinking that the Spirit could be called Eve or Ev depending on who’s addressing them. Their main color would be white, but their appearance would resemble that of artist. Perhaps having smudges of charcoal on their face or a splattering of color on an apron. I think it would be really ironic that the kingdom that banned the arts at one point would have a Spirit that is quintessentially an artist, heck Eve might have locked up during that time and forgotten about until after the war was over. Again, I’d leave the design to someone who is much better suited for it.

Now in this Rewrite, the Staff is no longer in the Vault because Ironwood took it out. He reasoned that having a powerful tool that could be used to in the fight against of Salem would be wasted simply being left in the Vault. Needless to say, Eve doesn’t like the way Ironwood is using them. It’s clear the power is just a means to an end to him, something he can use to make Atlas more secure. There is no love or passion for what he’s creating and he treats them with no courtesy or respect, not listening at all when they try to talk to him. When Watts eventually comes to retrieve the Staff, Eve is basically “Oh thank the Brothers! I could care less about your plans, just get me out of here!” It’s sort of a summary of what partly causes Ironwood’s fall: the inability to get that people aren’t purely logical beings that will do what they are told for the greater good, but emotional irrational people who will snap when pushed too far.

The best person Eve could work with is someone who specializes in the visual arts: painting, sculpture, architecture, etc. Someone who has a very clear vision and obviously very passionate about the things they want to create. Eve would also enjoy someone who is perfectly okay if they don’t get their creation exactly right on the first try and is more than willing to take Eve’s advice/criticism.

Destruction: Adamou

The Sword of Destruction is perhaps the easiest Relic to understand and use. Using the sword will increase your physical abilities and the sword can send out waves of power that can devastate a group of foes or alter the environment. However, using it takes quite a bit of energy. Best case scenario will involve a week of recovery. Worst case scenario you expend years of your life. Even the King of Vale with all his power, lost two or three years he should have had to live on that Final Battle of the Great War. This cost was so great to the old Vacuo Monarchs (and given that most of their past was peaceful) that it was hidden away and forgotten about until the Great War happened and the last King of Vale rediscovered it.

I’m still little unsure of how I would like Adamou, the Spirit of Destruction, to look like. The closest example that comes to mind is something like Nemesis from Fire Emblem Three Houses: a large older battle scarred man with light armor. Once again, I’m a writer and not a character designer so if anyone has ideas I’d be willing to see them. That being said, his name is actually a West Africa variation of the name Adam, putting him in contrast to Eve. Anyone who has a passing understanding of the Old Testament should probably understand what I’m doing here.

Adamou, despite his outward and intimidating appearance, is actually a pretty easy going spirit. He’s also somewhat disappointed in how he doesn’t get used as much compared to his brethren, but he does understand why and has great respect for the old rulers of Vacuo for doing what they did. He enjoys a good fight, but he also enjoys competitions of all kinds whether physical or mental. You could talk him into a little kiddie board game and he’d go at with as much glee as slaying a hoard of Grimm. As the Spirit of Destruction, he knows better than anyone that life is finite and it’s best to live and fight to the fullest until your time comes.

Adamou would gravitate to people like Yang or Pyrrha: those who enjoy combat and wish to live their life to the fullest. Those who’s spirits burn bright even if it means they burn out quicker. That said, he also respects those who fight to protect those they love and things they believe in (to an extent, he’s not fond of fanatics who would give their lives away without a second thought for something obviously sketchy).

Choice: Caesar

Whereas the Lamp reveals the past and present, the Crown of Choice is focused on the future. Those who wear it have the ability to see the possible outcomes of any choice they face. As such you can see what the cost and consequences of your options. That being said, it’s not a hundred percent as the future is always in motion and there’s no telling how other people’s actions and choices may affect what you decide. Still, the predictions do tend to be very accurate. There’s also the possibility that wielder may obsess over said choices or may become dependent on the Crown, but that has happened very rarely since Caesar usually stops their wielders before they go too far in this.

The thing about the Crown is that unlike the Lamp, it can only be used by one person. When its user dies, the Crown is free to be taken up by another and once it has bonded to someone they are bound for life. Now the Crown can be lent to another person, but every wielder can only do so once in their lifetime and those who borrow it can only use it for three days. On the fourth day, the crown will tighten around the person’s head, giving great pain and hallucinations, and will only stop if that person takes it off at which they can no longer use it.

Seeing the obvious issues of such a powerful item potentially falling into the wrong hands, the first King of Vale came to an agreement with the Spirit Caesar to set up a trap/test to anyone who would try to claim the Crown. The Crown would be placed in a special chamber when not in use with a multitude of different crowns and circlets in the room. It’s up to the person to choose the right crown with no outside input. Get it wrong and the crown will turn to ash and that person is forever barred from taking the Crown. The twist? The true crown’s appearance in the trial is in fact not a crown, but a wreath of laurels (which can be seen on Beacon’s symbol). And if you’re thinking this sounds quite a bit like the scenario from Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, that’s cause it is as its kind of the sort of trial you’d find in a fable or fairy tale. It would take either a very thoughtful and self aware person to pass the trial as well as one not greedy. It’s also made a little more complicated as the Crown looks slightly different for each of it’s wielders, which will be noticed in an earlier scene with our group of heroes in a hall of portraits of the past monarchs of the Vale. Because that is what determined who would succeed to the throne of Vale.

And yes, we will learn a lot more on this when I do the King of Vale Rewrite Post.

As a result of the nature of Crown, Caesar is the spirit that is the most close to mortals as they build a strong personal relationship with their users. As part of this, when a new wielder is chosen, Caesar will take upon the appearance of their predecessor to guide the new one. I’m still a little torn over whether Caesar should appear as the old wielder when they first took up the Crown, in the peak of that person’s life, or how they looked when they died.

Caesar, for the most part, acts as a sort of advisor to their wielder. That can come off as them acting very parental which given how often the Crown would pass from parent to child is quite fitting. They will give advice when asked for, but in general will advise against using the Crown’s power if its a situation their user can more than handle on their own. They are very much the type of person who would advocate that “It’s the journey, not the destination” and is more than willing to let their wielder fail if it meant they could learn something from it. That said, they do get very attached and is probably the only Spirit that would openly speak positively about Salem due to her history with them and also has issues with Ozpin. They and Jinn will be the ones to eventually give the more specific details to group about Ozpin and Salem’s history after they got the general outline elsewhere.

Caesar has worked with many different types of people, but the main thing they each had in common is that they were the type of people who were always concerned with the consequences of their actions for those around them and the kingdom of Vale as a whole. They generally work best with someone who is humble and empathetic. However, they generally don’t like someone if they put a singular goal above everything else without consideration of all the consequences (again, issues with Ozpin).

Well, that turned out longer than I was expecting it too. I guess I just got into the creative juices. Anyway, I think I’ll do a different post before coming back to do Cinder. And just as a reminder people, I dropped this show at the end of Volume 6 so don’t bring up anything after that to me in a comment.

See you soon!

#rwby rewrite #rwde #the relics #jinn #relic spirits

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years ago

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Not the one I wanted to fight. Good ending

So a while ago I made a story to go with this magnificent piece of fan art by @immastingray. I made a good ending and a bad one. And now I’m thinking to maybe see where the bad one is headed. But first I wanted to show you both stories again. So here’s the good ending first enjoy!

It was a beautiful night. The clear sky allowed for the castle to be bathed in the light of the full moon. The open curtains in the main hallways let in its near-magical silver shine both fading into the warm red glow of the fire and contrasting against it.

A loud clang and a joyless laugh echoed through the hallway.

“Roman Please!” Virgil called out desperately, tears springing to his eyes as he parried Roman’s next attack as he had all the ones that came before.

When Roman had started to teach him ‘the art of the blade’ he’d thought it was as a weird bonding activity, he never expected to actually need it. Alright, maybe he thought he might, but he’d figured that was just his pessimism talking. And even in his worst-case scenario, Roman had never been his opponent.

“Come on Virgil!” Roman taunted, almost dancing through the trashed hallway.

“You’ve given me more of a challenge during our warm-up fights! You can do much better than this!” He pointed out as he swung his blade glowing red with his… Pain? Fear? Anger? Virgil didn’t know.

He knows that the silver glow of his own blade is fueled by his desperation to get both of them out of this situation unharmed.

After Patton told him what happened, he’d immediately ran off to the imagination. He’d expected to find the destruction. An upset Roman was as extra as an excited Roman after all. His friend didn’t do anything halfway.

He’d feared that Roman would call upon a monster to fight that was too much to handle and get hurt somehow. That was why he’d called forth the sword Roman had given him as a present the first time he’d manage to unarm him during one of their sparing matches. It was designed with him in mind, perfect in every way, glowing with magical energy that fueled the blade with strength drawn from his emotions. It felt like a part of him at this point. And now he’d have to use it against the one who’d made it that way.

“I don’t want to fight you!” he insisted, willing the tears not to fall.

“Then perish!” Roman growled as he charged. Virgil jumped back.

“Roman, please we can talk about this!” he knew it wouldn’t help but he hoped it would buy him a second to think of something. When he found Roman he’d been in the throne room surrounded by paintings he’d slashed to bits. All bearing the prince’s likeness. Broken pieces of busts lay among the ruined frames. When Virgil called out to him and asked if he was unharmed… He’d been too slow to notice that Roman’s costume had changed. His sash turned gold, his costume a troubling crimson. And his normally subtle crown of woven gold with three ruby blossoms embedded was now a grand crown fitting a king rather than a prince.

Upon hearing his voice Roman had looked up with fire in his eyes and then… Something in him had snapped. He’d brushed the hair out fo his face and summoned his sword. He’d said something about the dashing hero arriving to take down the wicked king and charged. His movements had been full of effortless grace. Roman was playing around and until he became serious Virgil wasn’t going to even consider switching to offence. He still hoped to snap Princey out of whatever breakdown he was struggling with. Because… Roman was his friend, and Virgil knew what it was like to lash out in anger or fear. He wouldn’t cause the dramatic side more pain than he already was in.

“Talk!” Roman laughed joylessly. “Talk! That’s all we ever do. And what has it ever gotten me? Even when I do everything right, I’m still wrong!” he bites. As he makes a twirl and aims his sword for Virgil’s stomach. Virgil has no trouble evading it. That move was so obvious it showed that the purple-clad side wasn’t the only one holding back.

“I get it! I get it alright! I’m mad with Janus too. I’m not the enemy here Ro,” Virgil pleaded again.

Roman halted then and for half a second Virgil hoped that he’d gotten through to the creative side. But then he threw his head back and started laughing insanely.

“No… No you’re not,” he agreed, tears streaming down his face, his eyes wild and desperate, like a part of him was begging Virgil to… To what? Save him, stop him? “But you won’t let me go after him either will you?” he asked pointing his sword at him once again and cocking his head to the side expectantly.

Virgil wished he could say the truth in a way that wouldn’t make Roman feel like he was alone in this. “I can’t risk you getting hurt Roman.” It was the best he could do. Janus was not a pushover. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to deal with Remus for all those years.

And even aside from that… Virgil’s job was to protect. It was against his nature to allow any of the sides to come to harm. Even the ones he wanted to punch in the face on a daily basis. So he couldn’t let Roman hurt Janus either.

Roman scoffed and shook his head, not surprised. “Like you said, Virgil. You aren’t the enemy here… I am.” His face darkened and he locked their eyes. Roman’s smoldering like embers, the fire’s around them reflecting in them ominously. “So do your job Anxiety!” Roman commanded. Virgil felt his title cut trough him, sharper than Roman’s sword ever could

“Protect Thomas! Protect the others! Make sure that the mad king doesn’t cause any more chaos!”

Virgil shook his head, a tear finally escaping him. “I won’t! You’re not… Thomas needs you too!” he insists.

Roman’s face darkens, his insane smile turning to a sneer.

“Then let me pass, and know that what happens next will be on your hand!” he gowled as he charged. Virgil turned and darted around the corner. He’s faster than any other side and he needed to give himself some room to move. Once he was past the corner he turned around and saw Roman coming for him. They got halfway the hall with Virgil parying every blow. He wouldn’t risk letting his fight or flight instincts take over. He knew that the fight would be over in a second if he did. But he can’t guarantee Roman won’t get hurt in th process. So he can’t fight all out, he just can’t. Sadly Roman is done holding back.The only reason they are still evenly matched is because his mind is clearly all over the place.

He lacks focus, but he’s using all of his strength and that is what Virgil is struggling with. Once again, should he give his all, even to defend himself, he might lose control and find himself victorious over an injured friend. He has to protect Roman. Even from himself.

“Come on Edgar Alan Woe! If you keep holding back, you might lose. Who knows what I’ll do to the others if I were to go back? Or maybe Patton will come looking for you? It’s been a while already. Surely he’s worried about his ‘son’ by now! What will happen if he sees me striking you down? Will he be too shocked to defend himself when I come for him next?” Roman taunted. Something in Virgil stirred, and it must’ve shown in his eyes because Roman’s eyes lit up with eagerness. “I wonder if you’d still be conscious enough to watch me strike him down while he’s screaming your name.”

Virgil forced himself to stay alert. Roman wouldn’t, he’d never… He’d never hurt a friend. “He’s edging me on on purpose,” he reasoned trying to calm himself. “But I have to… I have to take a chance.” With that decision, Virgil charged in at last. Roman parried laughing gleefully. “That’s more like it!”

They danced around each other for a little while like that, tears now streaming down both their faces, though Virgil’s face was a mask of furious grief and Roman’s one of a desperate glee.

They remained in the middle of the hallway now that Virgil was done retreating the whole time and was jumping at Roman as often as he was jumping away and around him. Then, suddenly, Virgil stumbled over a fallen piece of debris and dropped his sword in the process. Roman took the opportunity to trap him against the wall and keep him in place with his sword to Virgil’s throat and his now empty hands trapped underneath the grip of Roman’s free left hand. Their faces were so close Virgil could see every spot of color in Roman’s eyes and feel his breath wash over his face.

Every part of him screamed to fight back but Virgil wouldn’t. Not unless he was absolutely sure that Roman was beyond saving.

Seconds passed and Roman did nothing. As if he was waiting for something.

Virgil’s last words? Roman was all for dramatics after all.

“Just do it!” Virgil sobbed, unashamed of the tears now. So he was crying? Who freaking cares!?

“I deserve it!” he told Roman and he meant it. He deserved it and so much worse.

Roman looked confused. “What…? What kind of trickery is this? I know you can do better! You haven’t even… Virgil, you never take anything lying down… What…?”

“I’m a failure alright!” Thomas’ protector confesses while sobs start wracking through his body. Oh, no. Virgil can feel the panic attack coming up. Breathe, he needs to breathe!

“I didn’t protect you and I can’t protect Thomas and… and… And everything is ruined because I just couldn’t stay where I belonged in the first place! None of this would’ve happened if I’d stayed downstairs!” The confession poured out through panicked sobs and Soon the room started spinning. He couldn’t… He didn’t get…

A clattering sound and then he was sitting down and his hand was resting on someone’s chest. He could feel the heartbeat underneath his fingers. It wasn’t calm exactly, but it felt warm and real.

He could feel something against his own chest as well. A hand perhaps? And there was a muted sound, a voice speaking.

He could feel the other’s chest moving in a rhythm that was tapped on his hand with the stranger’s hand that was holding his in place. 4,7,8… He knew that. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. He can do that.

Soon the voice becomes clearer and Virgil can tell it’s indeed a hand against his chest.

“You’re doing great V. Just breathe with me.” Roman… Roman sounded like himself again. Worried, but in a way that fit him.

Virgil blinked his eyes to try and get his vision to work again. It worked surprisingly well. He could see the relief on Roman’s face and the underlying traces of guilt. “There you are dark knight,” he smiled.

“Ro? You… You’re back?” Virgil asked tentatively. Roman bit his lip and nodded. He looked like he was going to say something but Virgil surprised him into silence by hugging him. “I knew you’d never actually hurt me,” he said in relief. Because, while he had been convinced his plan would work, he hadn’t been too sure about accidental injuries.

“Wait… You gave me the perfect opportunity to… On the off chance that I would come back to my senses when actually confronted with the possibility of actually…?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “We both know that if it looked like you would actually use that thing against me,” Virgil pointed to Roman’s sword which was dropped right net to his own. “I could’ve kicked your ass, weapon, or none. Fight or flight instinct remember.”

Roman frowned unconvinced. “The panic attack?”

Virgil was thankful for the thick layer of foundation on his skin or his embarrassed blush would’ve given him away completely.

“Well… Okay, it was risky but it was all I had,” he allowed.

“In the end, what’s important is this. As far as you knew at the time, you had the perfect opportunity to get rid of your biggest threat, and you didn’t. You defeated your inner king and became the prince again to save me. You Roman. You are the hero.”

Roman was speechless for a few moments and then he looked down. His costume was returning to it’s previous red and white design. nd all around them he could hear the palace restore itself now that the Prince didn’t feel so broken anymore.

“You really trust me that much?” he asked perplexed.

Virgil shrugged. “Well, yeah. We’re a team now right?” he muttered embarrassed. Roman thought over those words for a moment, and then everything else that had happened that day right up until this point.

He let out a short, startled laugh. Followed by another, and another. And more and more followed one faster and louder than the other, soon it was unclear if he was laughing or crying. He threw himself into Virgil’s arms and cried his heart out, letting Virgil rub soothing circles on his back. There was much the two sides needed to talk about. And not just when it came to Roman. Virgin had been a little too convincing when asking for death to Roman’s liking.

For now, however, they just sought comfort in each other’s presence. If other sides were to approach the castle that night they’d find a guard standing out front that hadn’t been there when Virgil arrived. He’d sent them off with the message that the Prince is consulting his captain of the guard on urgent matters and that he wouldn’t be receiving any other visitors, nor would he be receiving other counsel for the time being. And he might not be ready for a long while.

#Sanders sides #Roman Sanders #Virgil sanders #fic #angst #Roman angst #Virgil angst

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beacon-sanctuary · 4 years ago

Text

Beacon Sanctuary Lore: Magic

Styles of using magic

Spells: structured incantations often requiring memorization or a book which lists said incantation down to summon or craft with air particles of raw magic.

Material: this is a style of magic useable by everyone. All it requires is a person using magical resources/materials in a specified state or combination. Like grinding something into a powder, or using an element filled stone and striking it against another to create a reaction.

Natural/Raw: A magi use their internal source of magic and wield an unrefined or structured style of magic. Like using their magic in its rawest form. While versatile, it's very limited in its uses due to being bound to an element's natural strengths and weaknesses/limits. (This is also the most draining style)

Unique spells: These are spells entirely unique to a certain magi from birth. No sealing or copying can ever match the strength or efficiency of these spells at all. Often time many can only make weak offbrand recreations if these spells. Which weirdly enough often lead to spikes of new useful spells being written down or created.

Raw magic elements:

Void: very chaotic, often destroys, and warps a target. Very chaotic, destructive, and strangely slow. Has to be kept in check or else it will consume everything. Magi users must be sure not to let the darkness consume them. It's a natural part of them and theirs to control or else it'll consume you. Spells or rather attacks made of void have an effect of consumption. It eats into things until nothing is left behind but a gap. Though besides attacks it's rather useful for transportation or other mundane activities like say a vehicle moving. Though funnily enough, void os very useful but if you mishandled pr go overzealous with it, it will often consume you or what used it in the first place.

Solar: energetic, and purifying. Thanks to its energetic nature, it's fire and light must be micromanaged or else it will burn like a wildfire. Solar magi have to keep their internal Sun at a manageable level or risk it running out of control in a wild blaze or have it extinguish. It's attacks are blindingly fast and powerful, though with this it's easy for the attacks to often go out of control. Solar is also one of the two best elements for healing. It's often used to treat small to dangerous injuries.

Water: push and pull, rise, and fall. For every action, there's a ripple. It's a very counter focused element. Flowing back and forth, taking something and throwing it back. Good for healing and magi should take care of not getting lost in the sauce. Water is very much used in therapy and is one of safest elements besides air. Though its fluidity makes it at times unwieldy.

Earth: structured, and unyielding. It requires things to be done with strong will and firm movements. While limited in creativity, it makes up for it in strength and its linear style. Earth magi should be wary of rooting themselves too deeply. Being too solid can be dangerous as well. This os often used in making buildings, structures, mining, and renovation if the need calls for it. It's also brilliant in medicine and farming.

Air: free, and bearing near-endless possibilities. It's one of the most creative elements and thanks to this, air must be used with high amounts of attention, or else it will set itself free. It may also act of its own accord, like the changing wind or the sudden storm. Air magi, be sure you aren't leaving yourself too open in the wind. A clear mind is good, but an airhead is not. Besides the structures that exist to pump and manage energy around the world, wind os very much used on energy and more. Its also useful in being versatile for many uses. Crude technology, to albiet executions. It's one of the most versatile but also fickle elements.

Funfacts:

Solar and Void were the first types of magic that branched off of the original chaotic pool of magic. They're are the strongest styles of magic but are also the most unwieldy and easy to lise control of. At times people theorize both elements may have a kind if sentience due to how more so than any other element they affect their magi the most mentally

Void magi have a quirk with their element, they're given a near insatiable hunger for a topic or goal. Mirroring the void itself in their demeanors. Example: Orion's hunger is knowledge, he's always on a look to quench his thirst for knowledge almost obsessively

Void magic has another strange part about it, many users often talk about feeling whispers in their mind. As if the void itself whispers among their thoughts. Trying to lead them to do certain things, to fall into the darkness so to speak. So void magi have to naturally tight rope cause their element can consume them at any point they fall too far.

Solar magic is similar actually, unlike void it's more a feeling, a unstoppable energetic drive that pushes them to a goal and puffs up their confidence. Example: Theia has a massive drive for freedom and being able to do what she wants to. Oh and to also be the best. Though like the void, solar magi should be wary to not have an icarus event, soaring too close to their sun or going in too far with their energy. Often resulting in instinctual movements and demeanors.

The original state of magic is chaos, a mix mash of random effects and warping. If you combine each element together at once you create chaos magic. Though this is highly unrecommended. Chaos magic is wild and unpredictable. It twists the laws of physics and eviscerates things beyond what once was. Though humagi are often born with this magic style so they can tell you first hand how wild it can be. So many children turned into potted plants, it's a shame.

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theobsessor1 · 4 years ago

Text

Drunken Noodle

Summary: Deceit should know better, going through with another one of Remus’s ideas. He thought it would have been a one time deal, just something for them that night to experiment with his more reptilian side. But he’s starting to regret it with the growing nest of eggs, and horrible uncertainty of feelings swirling in his chest...he might be in some trouble here.

Pairings: mild intrulogical, qpp demus, hinting at Lociet

Warnings: drinking, alcohol. hinting at slight alcoholic problem.

Word count: 3087

previous chapters ch.1, ch.2, (read on ao3)

(wish to support me buy me a coffee :3)

Chapter 3 of “Say Something” series

Deceit huffs, sitting partially slouched over the dinning table as he sips from his wine glass, munching on gummy rats that Remus had summoned him to help brighten his sour mood. Said creative side was currently sitting across from him going on about something or another.

Deceit wasn’t paying attention, just enough to mindlessly nod when needed, letting the side jabber and get his energy out while the snake side sulked. Hmm...maybe he should pay Remy and Emile a visit. He hadn’t gone to see them since...well, it’s been awhile.

It took him a moment to realize that Remus had stopped talking, The Duke had turned to stare at the stairs of the subconscious that led up to the mindscape...Standing at the bottom of them was Logan, he was just there! Casually looking around the room where he stood. It’s quite a surprising site to see, no wonder it drove Remus speechless. Well besides the fact that he’s obviously rather fond of the other side. After a moment, Deceit clears his throat. “Can we not help you?”

“Actually, yes. I wanted to talk to you about something.” Logan straightens his tie and clears his throat, brushing off the fact he hadn’t realized the two sides were at the table. “Oh?”

“Well more specifically, the events that occurred during our discussion with Thomas earlier today. I wanted to apologise on the behalf of the other. They were rather dismissive of you, despite you bringing up some rather valid points. I..” Logan coughs. “You can say I understand to a degree the feeling of being brushed over, so to speak, and that I inf act do not condone such behavior especially to someone who is actually contributing and trying to help.”

Deceit has to take a moment to collect his thoughts and form proper words through the fuzzy haze of alcohol... This almost seems like some joke. “...Thank you for the apology, though it’s rather unnecessary. You're not the one that needs to apologise, if you want me to be honest you deserve an apology more than me” he points at Logan with an unimpressed lift of his brow.

The spectacled side sighs “Regardless, I bring the apology and regret that I had not attempted to get them to listen to you.” “It’s whatever. I appreciate it I guess.” Deceit mumbles, waving a hand concedingly and taking another sip of wine clearly not very concerned with this conversation.

“I could tear out their tongues for you!” Remus offers, way too excited at the idea. Logan frowns shaking his head “That’s...very thoughtful of you Remus, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“It would be more fun to shove them down the stairs, like a couple of really annoying slinkies” Deceit adds mumbling into his drink Remus snickers nodding while Logan shakes his head “I appreciate your offer and suggestions, but that’s still a no. We want them to listen, not get them hurt.”

Deceit stands from the table swaying almost like a snake influenced by a snake charmer. “Well, that is much easier said than done. They’re bound to get hurt before they start listening to anyone.” He picks up his glass intent to make his way to the couch “You’ve said your apology, you don’t have to stick around any longer.” Logan raises a finger, opening his mouth to speak only to close it as he squints at the snake side as Remus gets up coming behind Deceit and scooping him up into his arms, spawning tentacles from his back to help properly support the side in his arms. Using one of said tentacles to slip the wine glass away from the snake sides reach. “Is he drunk?”

Deceit hisses, attempting to wiggle from Remus’s grasp and snatch his drink back “I’m not drunk...yet...I think.”

“...Do you intend to get drunk?” The logical side crosses his arms, frowning at them. Deceit shrinks down on himself guiltily

“...Maybe…”

Logan’s frown deepens as he shakes his head “I’m getting you a glass of water, have either of you eaten anything?”

Remus carries a definitely not pouting Deceit over to the couch where Logan had pointed for them to sit as the snake side replies “I’ve only eaten a few gummies so far.”

“I ate ass!” The duke enthusiastically answers plopping onto the couch and still holding the grumpy snake side protectively in his arms and tentacles.

“He means a peach.”

Logan huffs heading into the kitchen, making himself at home as he goes about sifting through the cabinets and fridge “I’m going to make the two of you something proper to eat, do either of you have any dietary restrictions?”

Remus nods with a bounce, he knows the answer to that! “DeeDee doesn’t like mushy stuff ‘n I don’t like citrus.” Logan nods, filing that information away for later. He has managed to find a box of noodles and some tomato sauce, spaghetti is easy to make and hopefully satisfying to the two sides. It grows quiet for a while save for the sounds of Logan cooking, filling a pot with water and setting on the stove to boil with the noodles.

Remus plays with Deceit’s hair keeping himself occupied as they await the meal. Something must be up, why else would the logical side have decided to suddenly care to apologize to him, to care if he was drunk or for that matter make them food?? Wasn’t he the one that usually would argue that they didn’t need it?

Deceit can’t help but squint suspiciously at the side, “You’re totally not planning something?” he hisses flicking his tongue out with his words.

“Well, I”m planning to feed you some spaghetti and try to get you to drink some water to help keep you hydrated from your consumption of alcohol.” The snake side huffs knowing that was the logical side's so called plan. But he wants to know the real one! He opens his mouth to say as much but Logan continues “Maybe re-discuss points from earlier conversation with the others and Thomas since, well, neither of us got to share our opinions on the matter...If that is what you are asking?”

Deceit sits up, turning around on the couch and propping himself up on his elbows to look at the logical side, eyes narrowed. That can’t possibly be all. There’s gotta be something else here, he’s sure of it.

Remus finishes the braid he’s been working on, wiggling happily at his work before starting another. “I could think of some tasty things to do instead off boring ol’ talk!~”

The snake side sighs “Remu-” “Oh! I tried that mushroom thing from Hannible! You gotta come check out the corpses with me!”

“Re-” “The roots really did spread through the whole body! I got one of them to be oozing-”

Deceit huffed snapping his fingers to focus the creative side’s attention, the duke’s mouth clicking shut and heading whipping around to find the sudden source of noise.

“I know you want to talk to him about all those wild ideas of yours dear, but do you think you can wait till after I interrogate him?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’ll wait!” Remus nods his head like a bobble head, stilling as he goes back to focusing on playing with Deceit’s hair, a third braid in the making...he might be attempting to stick an eyeball in it...or a tooth.

Logan adjusts his glasses as his brows furrowed in confusion, the glasses fogged slightly from the steam of the cooking pasta “Interrogate me? What for?”

“Well see Logan, you never come down to this part of Thomas’s mind. Nor really have you ever shown an interest in our care, save for Remus of course when he’s visiting you but that's just a given.” he makes an offhanded gesture to Remus “So tell me, what is your true motive for all this.”

Logan pauses in his task of stirring the pasta sauce “My motive?”

“Yes your motive, I may be intoxicated but I can still tell when something is suspiciousss.”

Logan tilts his head at the snake side, beginning to absentmindedly stir the pot again. “Have I been acting suspicious. I do suppose a divergence from usual patterns would make something seem suspicious and put you on edge.” he thinks aloud.

He shakes his head, turning the heat off the stove and mixing the sauce into the noodles. “I have no secret motive, no ulterior plan, I am merely tired of the treatment and order of things...of course that’s now paired with the fact that I am concerned about your alcohol consumption.”

Deceit rolled his eyes “Well the whole treatment and order is going to be harder to change than just coming over for a visit…” he moves from Remus’s grasp to lean over the back of the couch “And my so called alcohol consump-consumption is fine! I didn’t have a lick of it for a couple of weeks!” Of course that was because he wasn't about to drink such stuff while he was preg- for reasons, wasn’t drinking it for specific reasons he will not ever talk about...yes.

...for a pink and yellow, brown speckled reason currently in his bedroom hidden with the other one.

Logan hummed, not convinced as he made plates, putting the finished spaghetti on dishes before carrying them to the table “Either way, you two are eating and then getting to bed. No shenanigans or schemes, whatever it is you two do when left alone down here.”

Deceit can’t help but pout at that, he doesn't have plans for the night but still, he doesn't want to be told what to do and be put to bed like some child thank you very much.

Remus finishes with the sides hair and scoops him into his arms again. “I can walk myself!”

“I know” :D

Stuck being carried it seems, the snake side just sighs, there’s no use fighting Remus, they’re both touch starved as is and the dukes pentiant for just snatching and carrying people around is a constant.

He gets gently deposited into his usual place setting at the head of the table, Remus sitting by his side and eagerly digging into the food...he does notably try at an attempt to be polite and use a fork as he stuffs his face tonight.

Deceit sulks conjuring himself a wine glass by his bowl, eyes widening when Logan snatches it away and puts a glass of water down. “Excuse me?”

“No more wine tonight. Water”

Remus giggles at his expression, the snake side not used to someone trying to boss him around like this.

He can’t help lifting a challenging eyebrow at the logical side “No wine?” Deceit waves his hand over the glass of water turning it into a glass of whiskey on the rocks “Fine.”

Logan raises an eyebrow back, clearly unimpressed and frowning. He gives a huff taking the glass, poofing it out of existence and putting a glass of water down once again.

Deceit flicks his wrist changing the water to vodka, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he watches Logan. The logical side huffs “enough” he snaps turning the drink back into water “you will drink the water, eat and then we can assist you to your room for re-” “No!”

Logan sputters to a stop startled by Deceit’s sudden shout and looking to the snake side with bewilderment.

Deceit blinks before flushing lightly as he looks down at his place sheepishly, he hadn’t even realized he had stood, now seating himself back down. “Apologies...I um I would just prefer not to be in my room tonight.” he pokes at his plate with his fork hoping Logan wont see through his lie

“R-right.” Logan clears his throat, adjusting his tie in that lil tick of his “Well, then um we can make you comfortable on the couch then? Will that suffice?”

Deceit quickly nods “yes, the couch will be fine.”

The dinner seems to be rather dull after that, Remus and Logan going back to discussing what Remus had done in the imagination inspired off of the Hannibal episodes they have watched together. Janus watches them chatter fondly, the two animatedly talking and gesturing back and forth...It’s nice seeing the two enjoy themselves like this. Especially Logan, it’s not often you get to see the logical side light up like this.

With a small hum he stands with his empty bowl taking it over to the sink without a word, not wanting to interrupt.

He tries to walk past the table without being noticed, if he can sneak past he may be able to make an escape to the imagination and to his two favorite traits. Of course things never go as planned, why would they. Remus immediately perks up and the creaking of his chair is the only warning Janus gets before the creative side pounces, pinning him to the ground.

Janus sighs with a groan “Really? Remus why-” they both pause with confusion and looking to the dining table, hearing a small giggle and a snort.

Logan was watching them, a hand covering his mouth to stifle the sound of a laugh, eyes full of amusement and fondness...they made the logical side laugh?!

Remus's eyes sparkle surprised that he got Logan to genuinely laugh! He beams excitedly at the logical side “You laughed!”

Logan blinks, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he quickly lowers his hands “I-I um think you misheard.”

Remus shakes his head quickly scooping up Janus and holding him out to Logan like one holds a feral cat away from themselves “No! I heard it! J-eh Dee-Dee did too!”

Janus gives Logan a disgruntled look but nods, not appreciating how he’s being held “I did here it too. You do realize you can’t exactly lie to me right?” he flicks out his tongue at Logan as if to emphasize he can sense them.

Logan sighs fiddling with his tie “Remus I don’t think it’s good for you to hold Janus like that. Why don’t you get him to the couch and I can get him some pillows and blankets from his room.” he suggests quickly in an attempt to change the subject.

Remus nods, eyes still sparkling as he pulls Janus closer, of course it's a bit of an issue when the snake side is wriggling and squirming as if trying to escape. “No! Don’t you dare go into my room!”

Remus takes a hurried step back conjuring his tentacles again to try and keep a hold of the snake side who's baring his fangs at Logan and hissing angrily.

Logan flinches, face scrunching with confusion as he quickly puts his hands up “I apologize, I didn’t mean to over step! I won’t go into your room if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Janus calms, going still in Remus’s arms looking a bit disgruntled as he gives one last soft hiss at Logan.

Logan huffs and Remus turns around so Janus can’t look at Logan anymore “Welp I think Logan had the right idea, someone had too many silly drinks, bed time!”

Janus whines “I did not have too many, and I'm not tired. Put me down.”

Remus shakes his head dropping Janus right onto the couch “Nope, it's bedtime! I’m putting you to bed and ain’t nothing you doing about it.” Janus makes more unhappy noises before squeaking at the sudden weight of Remus flopping on top of him.

“You're not even going to let me get comfortable?”

“Nope” >:3

Janus huffs glaring at the ceiling of the living room resigned.

Logan smiles making his way over “Maybe it would be best to let him get comfortable, I don’t think I’ll be able to sit with you otherwise.” he pauses “That is of course if it's alright if I stay?”

Janus sighs as Remus quickly scoots off him “Might as well, you’ve made yourself at home thus far.” he sits up to move to the side so that Remus and Logan can probably cuddle, only to stiffen up when he’s suddenly squished between the two sides.

Remus wiggles some before snapping his fingers and changing them all into comfortable t shirts and pajama shorts before wrapping Janus up in a blanket “You gotta wrap Dee up in a blanket so he can burrow and stay warm, otherwise you get a grumpy snek who can’t sleep.”

Janus sputters glaring at Remus from his cozy blanket burrito“Don’t give away my weaknesses!”

Remus ignores him, smiling at Logan “and squish him! He sleeps best when squished”

Janus hisses as Remus leans on him more, and makes an offended noise when he is shushed by the creative side. And again when Logan leans on him next. He’s definitely squished between the two sides now.

No escape! Damn it!

Remus snickers resting his chin on top of Janus’s head as Janus yawns, his forked tongue curling. Janus huffs giving a weak shove at the creative side.

Logan watches fondly “You two seem...rather close? But I suppose that’s a given with the two of you living together down here for so long?”

Remus nods “Something like that, and well-” he shrugs unsure what the right words would be “ I don’t know, I’m wild and feral and got no boundaries, and Dee’s the exact opposite, balance each other, I guess.”

Logan nods, watching amusedly as Janus’s eyes grow heavy.

“You would think that we would hate each other but we kinda just found our own system of things together that works for us…” Virgil used to be part of that too, but well...guess yeah win some you lose some or...whatever that saying is.

Logan hums resting his head near Remus’s “and...you don’t suppose...that I could possibly join this system? I um” Logan clears his throat looking away nervously “I um mean more so if its alright I keep visiting for the most part. You always visit me an-” “yes”

Logan pauses looking to Remus

“Yes, you can come visit, it’s not like we can stop you” Remus smirks at him “think of yourself as an honorary member here, i'll make ya a badge and everything.”

Logan smiles before they both blink and look down, hearing soft sleeping noises coming from Janus, a lil bit of his tongue sticking out as he sleeps.

Remus snickers at that, getting himself more comfy. "Heheh… sleeping snek…"

#egg fic #Say Something #Deceit sanders #Remus sanders #Logan sanders #sander sides au #Writing is hard #demus #intrulogical #lociet

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queerbutstillhere-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Fantasy(Medieval) AU

The day Kon had been knighted had been probably the proudest moment of his life. Sure, the long ass prayer hadn’t exactly been the highlight of his evening, but he’d gone from a squire, being called boy or just Conner, to Sir Kent and honestly that was pretty cool, even if he now got mixed up with Clark a lot. It didn’t help that they looked nearly identical, Kon was just younger.

He couldn’t wait for the day Jon was also a knight. Having three Sir Kent’s would be so worth it, just to watch Clark twitch.

He had two blissful weeks of being freshly knighted, running around, partying and causing havoc, while also following the knight code, and then he had been contacted. By the King, no less. He had been summoned to the royal castle - which was admittedly, only in the next town over - to receive a royal assignment. He didn’t know what the hell it was going to be, but it must’ve been important. Why he, a brand new knight, and just 18 at that, was chosen, he had no idea, except for maybe his relation to Clark.

So he had packed up his things, said goodbye to his family for the foreseeable future, and saddled up his horse, heading up to the castle, Krypto trotting or running alongside him as they rode. It was stupid hot, and of course he had to chose to set out in the middle of the afternoon. Between the hot sun beating down on him and the fact that he had worn his armor - don’t ask him why - he was a sweaty mess by the time he reached Gotham Castle.

He wasn’t given any time to wait, just had his horse snatched from him by a stable boy and then was led deep into the castle, to what appeared to be an office waiting room. He was deposited by the servant girl, who he may have been flirting with, inside the waiting room in front of a desk with a middle aged, grumpy looking man.

“Who are you?” He grumbled, barely glancing up from where he was scratching away at a ledger.

“Sir Conner Kent, I have summons from the king.”

Conner held out the envelope. The man glanced at it, the broken seal on the back and then up at Conner. He grunted, pointing at a chair with his quill.

“Go sit down, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Conner turned and sat down in one of the two wooden chairs against the wall, letting his bag thump to the floor beside him. The old man gave him a grumpy look, writing for another moment before putting down his quill and standing, slipping through the doors. Conner tapped his fingers on his knees as he waited, looking out the open window, out into the castle courtyard.

Gotham Castle was a huge, beautiful, but intimidating structure. She was built out of fairly dark stone, and stood at an impressive height, but judging from how high all the ceilings seemed to be, there likely wasn’t that many floors inside the castle itself. There were, of course, the towers, which stood several floors taller than the main structure, with their high peaked roofs and rippling flags. There were huge courtyards and gardens in the middle of everything, and turn out pastures for the horses, still within the castle walls. Just down the hill from the huge castle was Gotham proper, the sprawling city in better shape now, under King Bruce’s rule, then it had ever been before in history.

“Sir Kent, he’s waiting.”

Kon hopped up and started to grab his bag.

"You can leave that there," the attendant said, waving his hand to dismiss Kon's current course of action. "And the dog will have to stay."

He dropped the bag, ordered Krypto to stay, and headed to the door, his thumbs in his sword belt, armor clinking uncomfortably as he walked. He paused at the door and let the attendant step in and announce him.

"Your royal highness, Sir Conner Kent."

Conner stepped the rest of the way into the office and looked around, noting it to be an alarmingly cluttered space. The windows were open, allowing a soft breeze in. The office was crammed with book shelves, cushioned benches, a dining table that was stacked with papers and scrolls. There was a rather large fireplace against one wall, the mantel overflowing with paintings and knickknacks and other assorted items.

At the large wooden desk, which was shoved back towards one corner also covered in papers and books, was an older gentleman, his black hair streaked with white, and his beard nearing more grey than black. He was wearing an off gray linen shirt, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, and black breeches. A golden crown had been plopped down onto his desk, and he glanced up, dark blue eyes meeting Kon's, and a tired smile slid onto his features.

Sitting on one of the cushioned benches, curled up against the armrest was a younger man, reading from a book. Kon noted a permanent ink stain on his right hand between his middle and ring fingers. His hair was longer than the older man's, nearly down to his shoulders, and was currently half pulled back, so it was out of his eyes at least. He was wearing a red shirt, black pants, and brown riding boots.

"Sir Kent," the older man said, standing, and Kon knew this to be King Bruce Wayne.

"Your majesty."

Conner immediately bowed, keeping in his low bow for a few seconds.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Bruce stepped around the desk and held out his hand. "I swear Clark talks about you almost as much as he talks about Jon."

"I think that's impossible, your majesty. I swear he never shuts up about that kid."

Bruce just grinned, moving to lean against the desk once they had shaken hands.

"Sir Kent, my son, Tim."

Conner turned to the Prince behind him and bowed again. He knew quite a bit about the royal family, due to his attachment to Clark, but he'd never met them. Timothy Drake-Wayne was Bruce's second youngest, and apparently a dashing young man. The prince smiled tiredly and waved, before looking back at his book. Conner turned back to Bruce.

"Well, I suppose we should get to business." Bruce walked around the desk again and sat down. "I called you out here because I have a bit of a job, that I feel like you'll be perfect for."

"What is it, your majesty? I'm happy to serve."

Bruce smiled lightly. "I figured as much. I need you to act as a protection detail for young Tim there."

Conner glanced behind him again, and caught Tim looking at him. The Prince quickly looked away again.

"Of course, your majesty. . . Might I ask what I'm protecting him from?"

"Let's call it an old family enemy, of his parents, and of myself, has decided to specifically target Tim after he refused an offer of an alliance with this man. He's tried multiple assassinations, and almost been successful more times than I'm comfortable with. The normal castle guards aren't trained for this, and as much as I appreciate our knights, they're not quite as spry as they once were."

"Of course. What will all my duties be?"

They spent the next five minutes going over every single aspect of Conner's new job, and by the end of it, he was a knight in the employment of the Royal Family.

He was shown a set of rooms by a servant, got to freshen up, and then headed to diner with the Wayne's.

......

After a week of tailing Prince Timothy Drake-Wayne around, Kon had gotten settled with the Wayne's. But mostly Tim. He was a fairly quiet guy, not because he didn't have anything to say or was too shy to say it, but because he spent most of his time observing his surroundings. Originally it had creeped Kon out, because Tim had spent most of his free time watching Kon, but now he almost appreciated it, having watched Tim work as an advisor to Bruce, and having witnessed him helping quite a few village people just because he had observed a situation and been able to stop it.

When he wasn't doing this mildly creepy observation thing, Tim was generally reading or writing. He had this huge book that he was about two-thirds through, and nearly always had it in hand. He was wildly creative, and while Kon had only had the pleasure of hearing a few of his writings, he was pretty damn good at it.

One thing he had not been expecting, was Tim's servant boy. This little ginger teenager, who ended up actually being Tim's age, was almost always with Tim. He was a little ball of energy and chaos and happiness. He was like sunshine, and Kon found himself being eager to spend time with him whenever possible, laughing and grinning with him. The boy, Bart Allen, was a whole head shorter than Kon, he had wild, auburn hair, that was more poof then not, and hazel eyes that were so light they looked golden.

For the first week, Kon had spent nights in his own set of rooms, attended to by some of the castle maids. And then on his ninth night there, there was an attack. Kon had just been leaving Tim's rooms for the night, when he heard a crash from the room behind him, and then shouting. He spun on his heel and sprinted back to Tim’s room, bursting through the door, which luckily was not locked yet, and found Tim pinned to the floor, a dark figure over the top of him, holding a knife. Kon had easily fought off that attacker, but the incident had led them to their current situation, which was Kon, moving all his bags to Tim’s room.

The room itself was fairly big, as big as Lois and Clark’s downstairs, but it was separated into two parts by a dividing wall, Tim’s bed hidden away behind the wall, the door to the privy tucked away, out of view unless you were really looking for it. Most of the room was filled with bookshelves, and there was a table that mostly served as a writing desk. There was a small, connected servants quarters, that was Bart’s strangely neat living space, though he seemed to spend a lot of his freetime hanging out with Tim, for whatever reason. But Kon, since he was Tim’s protection detail, had a bed set up in the corner of the main room, opposite Tim’s, though most of his things were being stored in the servants quarters, or at least, he assumed that’s why Bart had snatched them away unceremoniously the second he had set them down.

Tim didn’t seem bothered by this new development, just vaguely waved his hand around the room and said “Make yourself at home” and then returned to his book. So Kon did, set up a nice little miniature living space around his bed with what supplies he had, and settled in. Krypto had quite happily made himself at home on Kon's bed as well.

“Sir Kent.”

Kon jolted slightly, looking up from the sock he had been attempting to mend.

“Uh, Yes?”

“Why don’t you let me do that,” Bart offered, holding out his hand.

Kon hesitated. He wasn’t useless, Lois taught him how to mend his own things, and he was perfectly capable of doing so. Granted, he wasn’t the best at it, his big hands made it a little less neat then Lois could sew, but he got by. But this cute servant boy was holding out his hands expectantly, so Kon shrugged and passed it over. Bart plopped down beside him on the bed, tucked his feet up under his legs, and started sewing away, fingers practically flying over the hole in the sock, fixing it faster then Kon could have ever done. He looked up and found Tim fully invested in a book.

“So, how long have you been a servant for him?” Kon asked softly, turning to face Bart a little better.

“Oh, the past three or four years? I don’t remember really.”

“Wow. How old were you when you started?”

“Uh. . . Thirteen.”

“That’s a while.”

Bart looked up and smiled, then looked back down at the sock. But Kon, Kon was absolutely floored by that gorgeous smile. Bart gave it away so freely, to everyone, but this specific smile had felt . . . special. Which was odd, considering the reason for it. Krypto looked up from the floor and whined.

“There you go!” Bart quickly tied off the string and cut it, holding the mended sock out to Kon. “In the future, just bring me anything that needs repaired, and I’ll fix it right up!”

“Thank you!”

Bart flashed that blinding, beautiful smile at him again.

“Of course!” He hopped up and twirled to Tim. “I’m gonna go get lunch!”

“Okay, Bart,” The Prince replied without looking up.

“Any special requests?”

“I’m not terribly hungry.”

“Okaay dokeeey! Sir Kent?”

“For you to just call me Kon?” Kon asked, with a bit of a flirtier smile then he had intended. . . . or, well, maybe he had intended it.

Bart blinked at him, then grinned sheepishly. “Okay. Kon it is.”

Bart slipped on a pair of shoes and then disappeared out the door.

“He’s quite the bundle of energy.”

Tim looked up from his book finally, just looking at Kon for a moment before responding. “He’s a good person. And a very loyal friend. I’m lucky to have him.”

“You two do seem awful close.”

“I’ve known him since we were little, so I should hope so.”

“How’d he end up as your servant then?”

“His Uncle, Barry, is one of Bruce’s servants, so he sometimes ended up tagging along for whatever reason, and we became friends that way. He needed a job for personal reasons, and I happily offered."

“That’s kind of you.”

Tim tilted his head. “What did you want me to do? Let him go panhandling or working in the fields?”

“No. I’m just saying, not many nobility I’ve met would do something like that for someone like him.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Sir Kent?” Tim’s voice was clipped and defensive, and he had fully set his book down.

“. . . I think that came across wrong. I’m meaning. . . not many nobility would help a peasant like that.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed, and then he shrugged. “Maybe not. But I’m not most nobility, am I?”

“No. In many ways.”

They went silent, and Kon had this distinct feeling that he may have edged a little further onto Tim’s bad side.

That evening, when Tim was at dinner with his family - a safe time in which Kon didn’t have to be around him - he found himself in Tim’s rooms with Bart, who was humming to himself as he picked up, organizing books and papers, refilling Tim’s inkpot, changing linens, those types of things. And then they just started chatting, about anything and everything. Kon found out that Bart had lived with these two elderly farmers named Jay and Joan Garrick for most of his childhood, sometimes living with his uncle, Barry Allen, as his parents had both died when he was little. His trips to the castle with Barry, was indeed how he befriended Tim, and they were actually really close. Kon actually ended up finding out more about Tim through Bart, then he ever did from Tim himself.

By the time Tim returned from dinner, Bart had plopped himself down on Kon’s bed, his knees touching Kon’s thigh as they chatted animatedly.

“Good to know you two get along, this certainly won’t cause troubles for me,” Tim said, with a tired, but fond smile.

“Aww, Timmmm, we’re just getting to know each other a little better,” Bart said, looking up at him and grinning.

Tim walked over and plopped down on the bed, leaning forwards so he was leaning against Bart’s back, causing the smaller teen to groan and lean into Kon, who just chuckled and held them both up.

“I’m exhausted. Damian was being a little shit again and Dick wouldn’t shut up,” Tim groaned, moving so his head was on Bart’s shoulder, and he could look up at Kon as well.

“Aw, I’m sorry. I thought he was doing better?”

“He was. And then he saw Talia this weekend and it’s like someones stuck nails in his ass.”

Bart giggled, reaching around to wrap Tim’s arms around his stomach, rocking them slightly.

“Hmm, sometimes I wonder why your dad lets him go visit her.”

“Because she’s not with Ra’s anymore, that’s why. And because he’s still weak as hell for her.”

Bart was grinning at Tim, and Tim had his eyes closed as he laid against Bart’s back, practically plastered against him. They looked comfortable and natural like that. They looked . . . happy. Then something clicked for Kon.

“Wait. Ra’s? Like the maniac who’s trying to kill you?”

Tim looked up, frowning. Bart also frowned, but down at his lap.

“Yeah. . .”

“And . . . who’s this Talia lady?”

“Damian’s mom.”

Kon scowled. Something here wasn’t adding up. Tim sighed and closed his eyes once more, putting his head against Bart’s.

“Damian is Ra’s grandson. Bruce and Talia fell in love long ago, and I don’t think I need to give you the Talk , but not long after they split, Damian was born. We- Bruce only got custody of him a few years back. And I know what you’re thinking, but Damian is a good kid, and he doesn’t like Ra’s. He hates his grandfather.”

Kon just looked at Bart, who shrugged faintly, causing Tim’s head to shift. Kon stayed silent, digesting this information. It was certainly a lot to take in.

“You wanna go to bed early then?” Bart asked quietly, finally breaking the awkward silence.

“No, I want to go for a ride. Do you want to come with me?” Tim answered softly.

“Of course!” Bart exclaimed, grinning.

Tim opened his eyes and looked up at Kon again. “I’d ask, but it seems you don’t have a choice whether you come or not.”

Kon chuckled, pushing Bart off of him so he could stand. “It does appear that way, doesn’t it?”

After three weeks of tailing Tim and, consequently, Bart around, Kon had settled into their way of life quite easily. They had a pretty steady pattern to their days, and soon Kon had figured out times when he was needed and when he could go do things like train or nap or have a little bit of personal time. There were still the occasional attempts on Tim, though usually they were fairly random and small, and there hadn’t been any direct attacks in his living quarters since the first one after Kon arrived. But he wasn’t relaxing his guard yet, not until they were sure Tim was safe. Not that Tim couldn’t defend himself, Kon had seen him training with his older brother, Richard, but he had been hired for a job and intended to fulfill it.

After three more weeks of tailing Tim, Kon had become pretty certain of one thing. And that one thing was that he was pretty sure Tim and Bart were romantically involved with each other, dating, whatever the word for it was. It was pretty obvious, in Kon’s opinion. Hell, a lot of nights, they slept in the same bed together. They walked around holding hands and leaning on each other and grinning at each other, and just acting cute and coupley. And he was totally fine with this.

So fine with it.

He wasn’t sad about it all.

Except he was.

Because he may have fallen for Bart a bit. And Tim was really pretty and Kon also really liked him. And he was screwed because of this. Because they were probably dating each other, and Kon was just the bodyguard, third wheeling his way through life.

An interesting fact, Kon had learned over the past few weeks, was that Tim got nightmares, pretty frequently. And somehow, Bart had like this sixth sense about when Tim was having these nightmares, and would just appear at his bed and wake him up out of it, and then they would lie there, Bart softly singing until Tim drifted back to sleep. That was another thing about Bart. He sang and played the lute. And he was amazing at it. Kon could sit there and listen to him sing for hours. Bart the Bard, Tim called him occasionally, and Bart would just giggle and give him a lovesick smile and continue on playing.

Kon wasn’t going to say anything to either of them, after all, he’d either get over it, or be dismissed from his guard duties eventually, so why was it worth bringing up? It wasn’t. He was fine leaving it be. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d fallen for someone he couldn’t have, but he was mature enough to know to not pursue someone.

But one day, he was sitting in Tim’s room with Bart and Krypto while Tim was off with his family. Bart was tuning his lute, humming softly as he worked, and Kon had been reading, but had given up after a while, to just stare vaguely in Bart’s direction, listening to the plucking as he made sure it was in proper tune.

“What’s got your head in the clouds, oh brave Knight?”

“Huh? Oh.” Kon fully focused on the bard, and found him leaning on his lute slightly, grinning at him. “Nothing. Lost in thought?”

Bart chuckled. “What were you thinking about?”

Quick! Come up with a lie!

“Home, I guess. Wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular.”

A soft hum came from Bart, and he walked over, sitting next to Kon, Krypto immediately stretched his big white head over Kon’s lap to receive pets.

“Got anyone special back home, Sir Kent?”

“Dating wise? No. . . My little brothers are back home though.”

“Oh? Are you the oldest?”

“Kind of? It’s a weird situation.”

“Trust me, if anyone understands that, it’s me,” Bart said with a smile.

Kon chuckled. “What about you? Got anyone special?” he asked, lightly nudging Bart.

“Oh. . .Uh, No.”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “Really, I thought you and. . .” He gestured vaguely around the room.

“Tim?” Bart asked, eyes going huge. “No. Nonono, we’re not- . . . no it’s not like that.”

“Huh. . . interesting, you guys just kind of act like you’re together.”

“No, I mean, it’s not that I wouldn’t-” Bart stopped and sighed. “It’s complicated.”

Kon frowned softly and put a hand on Bart’s knee. “It’s okay, I’ve been there.”

Bart looked up at him with a scowl. “I don’t need your pity, Kon.”

“It’s not- No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Bart just shrugged and looked down at his lute. Kon let silence hang for a bit. Should he? I mean, his obstacle had just been removed, why not shoot his shot?

“Do you wanna go out for dinner or drinks or something tonight, while Tim is with his family?”

Bart stopped playing, and sat there for a moment before looking up at Kon, blinking. Then he grinned.

“Sir Kent, are you asking me out on a date?”

Conner smiled and shrugged. “And what if I am?”

“Well then, I might just have to say yes. But only if it’s a date.”

“Well it’s a good thing it was a date, then, isn’t it.”

Bart giggled. “We’ll have to make sure Tim really is going to be eating with his family, but probably yes.”

Kon grinned. “Fantastic.”

That evening, once they were excused by Tim, they got dressed and headed down into Gotham proper, chatting and laughing the whole way down. They found an inn that was serving some good stew for dinner and wasn’t terribly full, and spent a little bit of time there, just enjoying themselves. And when they got back to the castle, with time still to spare, Kon whisked Bart away to the gardens, finding a little secluded spot so they could sit down in private. They just talked for a while longer, Bart sitting on the back of their bench so he could play with Kon’s hair. And then he leaned down and kissed Kon.

Kon didn’t hesitate to push up against him, hand on his knee to help support himself, due to the slightly awkward angle.

"There they are, Timothy."

"You two having fun?"

Bart yanked away from Kon and tumbled backwards, right off of the bench. Kon yelped and dove after him, but only managed to snag his ankles, unable to prevent him from falling into the bush behind them. He looked up to find Tim and his youngest brother, Damian, standing nearby with a couple of guards. Damian looked annoyed, but Tim had this mildly amused, mostly closed off look.

"Uh, hi," Kon said, then turned back to Bart, reaching down and grabbing him by the arms, hauling him back up over the back of the bench.

Bart tumbled into Kon, giggling, even as his face turned bright red. They quickly picked leaves off of him, and then Bart sat up, looking at Tim.

"You startled me."

"I noticed."

Bart hopped up, brushing a few more leaves off.

"Are you okay?" Kon asked, standing as well, eyeing Bart.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Didn't hit your head?"

"Nope!"

"Now that you have your . . . " Damian trailed off, giving them a look of contempt. "Whatever. I'll be going."

Damian spun on his heel and walked away, followed by the guards. Tim just looked at them, shook his head and turned to walk away. Bart scurried after him, and Kon? Kon just sighed softly and followed, feeling a little annoyed that they had been interrupted.

But it was fine. At least now he knew how Bart felt.

......

After another two weeks, Kon was finding himself with another issue. See he had been dating Bart this whole time, and was quite happy with it. He and Bart got along amazingly, and Bart was . . . hot damn. Bart was something else. Kon could spend hours kissing him without complaint. Well, he actually couldn’t, because they both had jobs to do, and Bart wasn’t comfortable with kissing around Tim, which was understandable. And frankly, neither was Kon.

Because he was still crushing on Tim, even though he was pretty much dating Bart.

So yeah. He had a problem. Because he wasn’t about cheating on Bart, but at the same time. . . Tim. Tim was gorgeous and kind and smart. He and Kon had become fairly good friends, over the time he had spent as his bodyguard, and it was nice, because they could now just sit and chat or be together in comfortable silence, unlike in the past, when they would sit there in awkward silence, trying to figure out what to say to the other. And Kon wasn’t dumb, he could see Tim eyeing him, watching him, zoning out while staring at him. But he knew Tim would also never try anything as long as he was with Bart. Tim was too loyal for that.

“Bart.”

“Hmm?”

Kon rolled onto his back, looking over at Bart, who was in the middle of folding laundry. It was one of those odd days that Kon got off, as Tim was completely surrounded by his family and their various bodyguards.

“I need to tell you something,” Kon said with a sigh.

He decided it was best if he was just honest with Bart. Then at least Bart could keep him accountable or something. . . . Hopefully he wouldn’t be too upset.

“What’s up?”

“Would you come sit down?”

Kon pushed up into a sitting position, and Bart set down the pair of trousers he had just folded, turning and walking over, sitting on Kon’s lap, arm around his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Bart asked, tilting his head, looking concerned.

“I . . . Don’t want to hurt you, but I think you should know?”

Bart pulled back some, his scowl becoming even more concerned.

“I think . . . I think I have feelings for Tim,” Kon said softly, then rushed to continue. “But I don’t intend to do anything about it! I like you! I like being with yo-”

“Wait,” Bart said, holding up a hand, effectively silencing Kon.

Kon blinked at him, feeling worry rising in him in the form of bile in his throat. Bart was silent for a moment, then he started grinning.

“Kon. Kon. Conner!”

“Uh, What?”

“Do you realize what this means!?”

“Uh? No?”

“I’ve had a crush on Tim since I was like, eight! And I’m almost completely sure that Tim has had a crush on me for nearly that long, and that he has one on you now!!!”

“Bart-”

“I can work with this!” Bart exclaimed cheerfully and jumped up.

“Bart, what are you planning?!” Kon exclaimed, feeling more panicked now.

“I’m gonna ask him if he wants to date both of us!”

Bart had already returned to folding clothes, and Kon was left there, staring at Bart’s ass.

“Wait, you’re going to what? ”

“I mean, if you’re okay with it, I suppose? Sorry I should have asked first. . .”

“No it’s-” Kon hesitated, taking a moment to think about it.

He wasn’t . . . Not okay with it? But it was a strange concept to him. . . dating two people at once. A lot of people would consider that to be cheating. Hell, normally Kon would even consider that cheating, but. . .

“Wait so. . . all three of us? Dating each other?” Like I’m dating you and him, and you're dating him and me, and he’s dating you and I?”

“Yeah!”

“And that’s not . . . cheating?”

“Nope, it’s just like dating normally, but this time there’s two people you’re dating, instead of just one.” Bart stopped folding and looked back at Kon. “It’s not a terribly popular thing, and I know why. . . but, it can be the best thing on the planet.”

Kon didn’t respond, so Bart returned to his folding. And they sat there in silence for ten minutes until Bart finished folding and climbed into Kon’s lap so they could start kissing.

“I think . . . If you wanna ask him,” Kon said, after pulling back a bit. “Then ask him. But please don’t make him uncomfortable.”

Bart just grinned and immediately leaned in to kiss him again. “I’ll ask him, privately, later.”

Kon could tell the moment Bart had asked. He had been bathing, and when he got back, they were yelling at each other. Bart and Tim never yelled at each other. . . Okay well it was mostly Tim yelling, and Bart was trying to reason with him. It was clearly not going well, and the moment Kon closed the door, Tim whirled on him.

“And you!” Tim all but thundered. “How could you put him up to this!? Is this some kind of joke to you!? Does your relationship with him really mean that little!?”

“Uhhh,” Kon wisely said, and looked from Tim to Bart. Bart just sighed and shrugged.

“I can’t believe the both of you! I was fine with you two dating! I was willing to live with that, but now this?! Am I a joke to you!?”

Tim was putting on boots as he ranted.

“I’m guessing that’s a no, then?”

“Of course it’s a fucking no!! Gods!” Tim snatched up a cloak and then stormed out the door.

Kon looked at Bart, slowly moving to set down his dirty clothes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m. . . he’s never yelled like that before.”

“I’m gonna go after him, he can’t be wandering around alone. Are you going to be okay here?”

Bart nodded numbly. Kon quickly strapped on his sword and then walked over to Bart, gently grabbing his chin and tilting his head up.

“It’ll be okay,” he said softly, kissed him, and then hurried out the door.

He found Tim twenty minutes later, sulking in the library. Tim looked up from the books he was glaring murder at and saw Kon, and his face immediately hardened further.

“What do you want?”

“To do my job? I’m supposed to make sure you don’t die, remember?”

Tim just scoffed. He glared at him for a moment, then looked away, sighing. Kon stood nearby, hands on his sword belt, waiting for a good moment to talk.

“Bart didn’t mean to upset you that bad. And he’s pretty shook up that you yelled at him.”

Tim sighed again, shoulders falling a bit. “I know. I shouldn’t have. . . But it was just-”

“Startling?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I understand. I was pretty taken off guard too.”

Tim leaned against the bookshelf and looked up at him.

“It just won’t work, Conner, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t . . . You don’t need to apologize to me for this. I understand, and honestly didn’t expect it to go well. But. . . “

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him later.”

Tim went silent, and Kon let him, looking around the library. It was fairly empty, except for the old librarian, and Kon was perfectly okay with this. They stayed in there for twenty minutes before Tim decided to leave, slowly walking around the castle, Kon just trailing him lightly.

“Can I ask why you’re so against it?” Kon asked randomly, after a while of walking.

“I just. . . With me being a prince. . . the whole view on homosexuality. I know it’s not . . . bad, but it’s not great either, and this? A relationship between three people? It's unheard of, and for royalty to get involved in one. . . “ Tim just shook his head.

Kon was silent for a bit. “Did you know Bruce and Hal are totally sleeping together?”

“I beg your pardon!?”

“Bruce and his one guard, Hal Jordan, awesome dude, by the way. But they're totally sleeping together.”

Tim slammed on the breaks and turned back to Kon, crossing his arms. “And why do you say this?”

“Because I’m friends with one of Dick’s guards, Kyle, and he told me that Hal mentioned it to him.”

Tim just blinked at him. “Wow okay. Information I didn’t need to know today.”

“Do you wanna know about Dick?”

“Of course.”

“He’s totally sleeping with Wally.”

Tim scoffed. “Everyone knows that, Conner, that’s old news, get with the times.”

“I’m just saying. . . Nearly everyone in your family seems to be into guys. It’s not like any of them are gonna judge you for anything,” Conner said with a shrug, returning to tailing Tim as they started walking again.

Tim didn’t respond, just led Kon back to his room. When they got inside, they found Bart missing.

“He’s probably just finishing a chore,” Kon said softly, shrugging and tugging off his sword and boots, collapsing in bed. Then he looked around. “Wait, Krypto is gone. He probably took him out to pee.”

“Yeah. . . You’re probably right,” Tim said, after having stuck his head in Bart’s room. He walked back and sat on his bed, grabbing at a book and settling in to read.

Bart returned a few minutes later, Krypto on his heels, and glanced between the two, looking a little nervous. He just disappeared into the servants quarters. Tim gave a heavy sigh and stood, following him in. Kon just smiled to himself and waited patiently.

After Bart and Tim had a little talk, things settled, mostly back to normal within the next day or so. There was still some awkwardness, and Bart seemed very timid with showing affection to Kon around Tim, but it was manageable, and they were all still pretty friendly.

Kon assumed the topic had just been dropped, and wasn’t planning to ever bring it up again.

But he wasn’t the one who brought it up, so it was fine.

In fact, Tim was.

There had been an attempt, the other night. It had been peaceful for a long time, and then when they had been out riding, someone had attempted to shoot Tim off his horse. The arrow had barely missed his head and grazed his ear instead, and the second Kon realized what had happened, he had yanked Tim to the ground and covered him with his own body. Tim had been fairly shook up about it, and hadn’t been sleeping well because of it.

But tonight, he woke up screaming, and both Kon and Bart rushed to his bed, Bart immediately throwing himself under the covers to pull Tim in tight, quietly shushing him and trying to calm him. Kon awkwardly sat on the edge of the bed, watching them in the dim moonlight.

“It’s okay, Tim, you’re okay. You’re safe,” Bart reassured, humming his words softly.

Tim let out a shaky sob and buried his face into Bart’s chest, body shaking slightly as he took ragged breaths. Bart looked up at Kon and pointedly looked down at Tim, signalling him to come closer. So Kon did, pushing back the blankets enough that he could slip under them, and then scooted over until he could pull both Tim and Bart against him. Tim tensed for a moment, then relaxed back into him, hips pressing into Kon’s thighs.

It took a bit for Tim’s crying to stop enough that he could talk, and even then he barely pulled his face away from Bart, desperately hugging the ginger.

“What’s wrong, Tim?” Bart asked softly, eyebrows knit together in concern.

“I dreamt. . . “ Tim took another deep, shaky breath, then rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I dreamt that Ra’s got a hold of you two, that he was using you against me. . . that he was going to kill you, and then me.”

Bart looked at Kon over Tim, reaching up to lightly push his long black hair back out of his face.

“He’s not going to get you, Tim. Not while I’m still here,” Kon reassured, instinctively putting an arm over Tim’s stomach. Tim grabbed onto it tightly, like it was a lifeline.

“You don’t know that,” Tim breathed out, looking up at him.

“Yes I do. I’m here to protect you, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to protect you, even if it means I lose my own life.”

“But why?” Tim asked. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Because I care about you,” Kon answered without hesitating.

Tim blinked up at him, and then suddenly he was surging up, pressing his lips to Kon’s. Kon made a muffled noise of surprise, eyes going wide for a second before they slid close and he lightly pressed back into the kiss, arm tightening over Tim’s stomach. He felt a hand squeeze his forearm and pulled back, looking up at Bart, who was grinning slightly.

“Tim-” Kon breathed out, looking down at him.

“I thought-” Tim squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I thought I could get over both of you. I thought I would be fine. . . “

He looked over at Bart next, just looking at him quietly for a moment. Bart grinned back.

“But, damn was I wrong.”

Kon watched him lightly kiss Bart, pulling away from Kon as he pushed a little harder into Bart.

“So this means-” Bart immediately asked, once they had pulled away.

“Yes, I want to try it.”

Bart made a little squeal noise of excitement and grinned at Kon. Kon smiled down, then looked at Tim, who still looked a little shook up.

“Hey. . . Tim, you know I meant what I said, right? I’m here to protect you. You’re safe with me. With us.”

Tim just nodded vaguely, looking at Bart. “Will you sing me a song?”

“Of course!”

Tim settled back against Kon’s chest, while Bart sat up so he could properly sing to them, some soft love song that had Kon drifting off, arm wrapped protectively around Tim. He dozed off to Bart soft singing, and Tim’s gentle breaths. He vaguely remembered Bart slipping underneath one of his arms as well, but then he was out of it, waking up the next morning to just Tim in bed, and Bart already up and working. And Kon couldn’t help but grin to himself as he tucked Tim up against his chest.

This was good.

@core-disaster-week-2020

#timkonbart week #core disaster week #timkonbart #core disaster #tim drake #conner kent #bart allen #queerbutstillhere writes #queerbutstillhere

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iceshard1011 · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders Characters: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, switched!au, Dark Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), Morality | Patton Sanders is a Sweetheart, Virgil is doing his best, roman and logan aren't sure what to think about the new guy, janus is totally a dad but he only shows up for a couple of paragraphs, Fluff and Angst, It's not too angsty, for once, yes the title is from Descendants, remus isn't unsympathetic he just has zero social awareness, Happy Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending, it's just a bit of a cliffhanger, it makes a second part possible but it's not exactly necessary Summary:

Anxiety, overly curious and maybe a little too confident, explores the subconscious. There, he comes face-to-face with Thomas’ Dark Sides. But after the horrid stories the Light Sides have told Anxiety, he’s baffled by what he’s found.

4k story posted below as well :)

It was a ridiculous oxymoron of sorts, but Anxiety loved exploring.

Virgil had a feeling that somewhere, in some alternate universe, he would hate the mere idea of leaving his small bubble of familiarity and safety. He didn’t think about that a lot, though. It didn’t matter; Thomas had grown up embracing Virgil’s input and warnings. Just beneath the surface of Thomas’ mind, he had dealt with his best friends’ antics and adventures (and was usually tasked with trying to get them out of the problems they got themselves into). He’d wake up and make his way down to the mindscape commons, the imaginary replica of Thomas’ apartment living room. The smell of breakfast would be wafting through the air, along with a steady stream of chatter. Maybe a clang or two.

Virgil was happy.

And he was bored as all hell.

Now, Virgil loved Thomas with everything he was; he was never going to stop helping Thomas. And there were times when Virgil was run into the ground with exhaustion, when he’d spent days and sometimes weeks stressing about upcoming events.

But there were other times when Virgil felt he hardly existed. When Thomas would summon the others and Virgil wouldn’t be invited to the conversation. When Thomas was relaxing without a care in the world and Virgil felt numb with how little his influence was needed.

He loved Thomas and he loved the other sides, but all too often he didn’t feel like he was a part of their comfortable conversations and peaceful musings.

So, naturally, Virgil explored the subconscious.

The idea simmered into existence in his mind when he was scrolling through his phone one morning, curled up on the couch. The television was playing some horror movie. He wasn’t watching, unlike the enraptured Creativity at his feet.

“That’s my cue,” Janus said from across the couch. He stood, placing his book down. Virgil and Remus looked over at him, and Virgil felt Remus tense next to him.

“Thomas!” the creative side chirped, with a wide, toothy grin. “Beat you there, Janny!” He sunk out. Janus sighed. He looked over at Virgil.

“Will you be there, today?” he asked. Virgil shrugged.

“If he wants me,” he replied.

Janus frowned. “And if he does?”

“Then I’m sure he’ll summon me.”

Janus didn’t look happy with that response, but he didn’t argue. He sank after Remus. Virgil remained on the couch.

It was then Virgil wondered what would happen if he knew other sides. Then when Janus and Remus were both needed by Thomas, Virgil could still have company in the empty mindscape.

Then he thought about Thomas’ subconscious.

The pieces just kind of... merged.

Now, Virgil had no idea how to get to the subconscious. He knew it was dangerous, from what Janus had told him. The embodiment of self preservation had never ventured anywhere near the idea of tampering with the subconscious. He hated the idea of the sides hiding in the darkness of Thomas’ mind that would corrupt him if they were ever brought to light.

Remus never said much about it, even when Virgil asked. The first few times Virgil had mentioned the existence of any other sides he’d looked at Virgil like he’d just suggested Thomas should step in front of a moving train. Virgil hadn’t brought that conversation topic up very much around Remus after that, but on the few occasions he’d slipped up, Remus had acted arguably more vehemently. One time he’d taken Virgil by the shoulders and pressed him against the wall he’d been standing in front of. His eyes had been wide with some wild emotion Virgil couldn’t work out. He’d gotten Virgil to swear never to bring it up again. Virgil had listened.

Until now, he guessed.

Now, he really wanted to know what was going on in the subconscious.

He found the basement and sunk down through it. It was strange, like rising up into Thomas’ real living room, except much slower and a little muddled, like sinking through mud.

He rose up into darkness.

Well, it wasn’t totally dark. He could make out the ground beneath his feet. It seemed smooth and clean enough; no sludge or blood or anything as disturbing as Virgil had wondered about. It was weird. But interesting. Maybe Remus wasn’t totally correct when he’d said that the subconscious was a horrible place full of horrible monsters and nightmares.

Careful, he thought to himself. You arrived five seconds ago.

There didn’t seem to be any light sources around, nor anything at all.

So Virgil walked.

A few times he may have seen shadows shifting and moving in the corner of his eyes, but not once was he attacked. No once did he fear for his life. A few times he got a little on edge when he thought he saw the glint of glowing eyes or heard footsteps behind him. But he wasn’t petrified. He wasn’t shaking. He wasn’t any of the things Janus had told him he would be if he found himself in the subconscious.

What if you can’t get out? a voice inside Virgil’s head whispered, and that made him pause. That was concerning. But illogical. Why wouldn’t he be able to sink out or something he sunk into? And he couldn’t test it out, now — he’d just gotten here! No backing out.

He didn’t know when or how it happened, but it must have been a few minutes until Virgil realised there were walls on either side of him. A hallway. Virgil steps muffled into carpet.

He walked to the open room ahead, passing frames hung on the walls, but the environment was still too dark to see anything in great detail.

The living room he emerged into was... not what he expected. It wasn’t a dungeon. It wasn’t rotting and falling apart. It wasn’t smeared in blood and guts.

It was Thomas’ living room, if he never paid his electric bills. It was missing the paintings and a few of the memorabilia on the bookshelf, but it was almost nice, in a way. It felt a little off, if Virgil had to describe it, but it didn’t trigger the huge bouts of anxiety that Remus had told him it would.

Virgil peered curiously at the bookshelf, smiling to himself. Was that one of Thomas’ old school trophies? Who knew that would be here?

“Oh!”

The sound of shattering crockery made Virgil whirl.

The first thing he saw was the broken plate parts scattered across the carpet. He winced. That was going to be a pain to clean up. His gaze moved up to the side who’d been carrying them.

“Sorry,” he said, straightening up. “I shouldn’t be here. I was just exploring, and—”

“Oh, no, no!” the side said, beaming. Virgil tilted his head. Maybe he had naturally bright eyes, but it did look suspiciously like he was close to crying. Virgil hoped not; he was not the side to get caught with in the middle of a breakdown. “You can stay! You can mostly certainly stay, kiddo! Uh, here, don’t worry about the plates, um—”

He gingerly stepped over the mess Virgil had caused him to make, and rushed over to clasp Virgil’s hands between his. Beaming, he tugged Virgil forward. Virgil followed without complaint, but his hands burned where the side touched him. He wondered if that was normal. His friends weren’t nearly as physically affectionate as this side was currently being.

He let himself be led into the kitchen, where the side parted from him in favour of bounding over to the fridge. He had a lot of energy, Virgil noted. It reminded him almost of Remus, with less noise. He wasn’t as loud as Remus. That was.... good, actually. Sometimes the creative side’s antics did get a little much.

He rubbed his hands together, thinking about the strange sensation the hand-holding had left behind. He distantly heard Janus’ voice, telling him to stop fidgeting, and instead opting to shove them into his pockets to cease the nervous habit.

“What would you like, kiddo?” the side asked. Virgil blinked.

“Uh— what?” he asked.

The side leant back from the fridge. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked.

Virgil opened and closed his mouth. “I— you’re feeding me?”

The side’s eyes widened. “You are eating over there, right?”

Virgil’s mind was racing. ‘Over there’? Did he mean... the mindscape? And why was he offering food? Virgil had practically broken into their home. Why was he being treated as a guest?

“Yeah,” he said after realising the side was watching him with round, concerned eyes. “Yeah, of course I am.”

The side relaxed with an easy smile. “Good!” he chirped. “So, what do you want?”

“To eat?” Virgil asked, and the side nodded brightly. “Um, I’m good, thanks. I don’t want anything.”

“You don’t?” the side asked. Virgil shook his head. “Oh.” His shoulders sagged and Virgil was worried he’d upset him, but not a second later he was beaming once more. “That’s okay! What can I do for you?”

Virgil didn’t know how to reply. What was this guy’s deal? Why was he acting as if he owed Virgil a favour? Why wasn’t he even a little baffled about Virgil’s appearance?

“Patton, who are you talking to?” called out a voice from the stairs. Mild panic spiked Virgil’s chest. Of course there was more than one Dark Side. He’d forgotten about that. This strange side had completely distracted him. “You didn’t bring in another stray animal, did you? I have told you before, those creatures are not—”

The new side stopped short of walking into the kitchen. He was tall — taller than Janus, but not quite reaching Remus’ height. He was wearing glasses, similar ones to the ones on... Patton’s face? Was his name Patton? Did the Dark Sides have names? Like Virgil and his friends?

“Ah.” The new side cleared his throat and adjusted the tie hanging loosely from his neck. “I see you’re not a stray animal.”

“Nope,” Virgil agreed.

“Is there any reason that you seemed to have found your way into our side of Thomas’ mind?” the sharp-eyed side asked, a little stiffly in Virgil’s opinion.

“Logan,” the first side hissed, upset. He smiled, though, when Virgil turned to fully face him. “Be nice.”

“I don’t see why I must,” Logan replied. Patton sighed quietly, looking downtrodden.

“It’s polite,” he said, but it was a weak attempt at defense.

Logan rolled his eyes but Virgil jumped in before they could continue; he didn’t want them to fight, especially because of him.

“It’s alright,” he said, shrugging. “I can go. I was just exploring around. I won’t stay.”

“You won’t?” Patton asked.

“Of course he wouldn’t,” answered Logan, speaking as if Virgil wasn’t there. “Why would one willingly want to stay in the depths of Thomas’ mind?”

“Oh, stop it,” Patton said. His voice was light enough but Virgil senses an air of seriousness in his tone. Logan heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You can stay as long as you’d like, kiddo.”

“Virgil,” the anxious side told him. “That’s my name. Just call me Virgil.”

The two sides glanced at each other. Virgil wasn’t sure what that look meant.

“Well, Virgil,” Logan said, as if he was feeling the name on his tongue, “what are you here for?” Virgil frowned. Logan looked exasperated as he elaborated. “What are you going to do while you are here?”

Virgil didn’t feel very comfortable staying for any amount of time, now with this side interrogating him.

“Logan.” Patton was frowning at him. It was honestly kind of a scary look. He didn’t look like the type to get angry very often. He reached for Virgil, curling his fingers — which were startlingly cold — around his wrist and leading him out of the kitchen. Virgil followed him into the living room, where he sat down on the couch beside Patton.

“I’m sorry about him,” Patton said. He fidgeted with his hands. Virgil thought about how to reply, at a bit of a loss.

The sound of a door opening and closing came from back near the kitchen, followed by new footsteps. There was a door back there? Why hadn’t Virgil seen that? He’d just suddenly merged into the house.

“Bad day, Specs?” a voice asked in the kitchen.

“We have a visitor,” Logan’s voice responded. Virgil had a chance to brace himself before he was fixed with yet another pair of questioning eyes. He shifted uncomfortably as the baffled gaze quickly turned guarded. It wasn’t near as bad as Logan, who looked cold and calculating, but the slight sneer on this side’s face didn’t do him any favours.

“Well, that’s new,” he muttered.

“Roman, this is Virgil,” Patton said with a beaming and very pointed smile. The new side rolled his eyes with a scoff. He left the room up the stairs, and Logan swiftly followed.

Virgil watched them go, relaxing now that their hostilities had been taken away, but when he glanced at Patton, he looked... regretful.

“I’m sorry about them,” he said again, looking down at the carpet.

“Do they not like me because... I’m a light side?” Virgil asked. He didn’t like using that term, but it had been coined early on by Remus, and the name had stuck.

Patton gave him a sad look. “If we arrived suddenly in the mindscape, do you think that your friends would be very happy?”

That took Virgil slightly off-guard. What would they do? Remus never liked the idea of the subconscious. Maybe he’d get angry. He’d probably pull out his mace.

Janus was more difficult to read. He had never been thrilled with the idea of these other sides, either. Maybe he’d be disappointed. He’d look at Virgil like he’d done something wrong.

Virgil looked down. “No,” he answered glumly, and stood. “I should go.” He moved for the front door — because there was a front door there, now (where had it been when he’d arrived?) — and heard Patton standing behind him.

“Uh—!” Virgil glanced back. Patton shuffled, looking nervous. “I know today wasn’t a great introduction, or series of first impressions, or anything, but— if— uh—”

“What is it, Patton?” Virgil asked, trying to use the tone that Janus often used on him or Remus when they were stammering too much to make sense.

It must have worked, because Patton brightened, and when he spoke next it was clear, like he had gained the courage to speak. “If you ever want to come back, you’re welcome to!”

Virgil considered that. As unwelcoming as the other two sides had been, he found that he felt safe with Patton. He had this feel about him that calmed Virgil’s often high strung nature, and he looked like he was happy to see Virgil. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t unwanted.

“I will,” he assured Patton, who shone like the sun in response.

Leaving the subconscious wasn’t nearly as hard as Virgil had begun to fear it would be. The moment he closed the door behind him, he thought about sinking out—

And arrived back in the living room, just like that. No resistance, no complications. Clear and smooth, as it always was. He was in the mindscape commons, just as he’d left them. It seemed the others weren’t back from filming yet.

Virgil slowly collapsed back onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn’t unable to quieten the chattering thoughts circling his head for a long time.

Visiting the subconscious a second time, he arrived just as he had the first time; no door, just the slowly materialising of a darkened hallway.

“Patton?” he called, peering into the kitchen. It had been about a week since he’d first adventured into the subconscious, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to see that the shattered plates, or mugs, or whatever Patton had dropped had been cleaned up. “Pat? You here?”

He crept into the living room and stopped short.

The third side Virgil had met while in the subconscious — shit, Virgil had already forgotten his name — was sitting on the couch, a half-spilled medicine kit splayed out beside him. He was in the middle of clumsily wrapping his arm in white bandages with his free hand. Virgil quickly averted his eyes from the nasty looking wound running along the side’s arm.

He must have made a sound, because the side looked up at him, noticing him for the first time. He caught Virgil very pointedly looking away from his arm.

“This world isn’t exactly just abyss and darkness,” he explained, rather snottily. “Unlike your perfect little world of light, we have to deal with prowling creatures that do this on a daily basis.” He lifted his arm for emphasis.

“Things that... do that... are outside?” Virgil asked, feeling his anxiety spike.

“Well, not today,” the side said flippantly. “I’ve already dealt with today’s demons.” He finished wrapping his arm and stood, stalking up to Virgil, who realised with a silent hiss of annoyance that he was a whole head taller than Virgil. “Apart from you, it seems.”

Virgil scowled at him. “I’m not a demon,” he protested. “And I wouldn’t do something like that.” He pointed to the side’s arm, who huffed. Virgil couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed or skeptical.

“I suppose not,” he muttered.

Roman, it turned out — and that name definitely sounded familiar now that Virgil had heard it again — left every day to scout for subconscious monsters. Apparently they were a mix of Thomas’ fears and doubts. He had a way of talking that made Virgil feel like he was doing something wrong by existing. It wasn’t particularly pleasant to listen to.

Roman had finished packing up the medical kit and turned to shove past Virgil when he’d frozen suddenly, staring intently down at him Virgil had stared back, completely baffled, and thought about asking if he had something on his face.

He must’ve, he quickly decided, when Roman dumped the kit on the dinner table (causing the lid to crack open and everything to spill out again) and seized Virgil’s chin in a startlingly strong hand.

Virgil’s first knee-jerk reaction was to instinctively punch, kick or headbutt the side in self defense and escape, but he was still so caught off-guard that he remained frozen. This left him to stand there uselessly and endure whatever attack Roman was going to inflict on him.

Nothing more happened, though; no piercing pain of a blade nor blow of a punch. All Roman did was slightly tilt Virgil’s head and study him with uncomfortably focused eyes. He didn’t even look like he wanted to start a fight. All of the anxious side’s personal bubble alarm bells were ringing off the hook, though.

“Are you wearing concealer?” Roman asked finally. As he spoke, he lifted Virgil’s chin (almost gently, which was weird) up, still searching his face.

Recovering from his initial shock, Virgil pulled out of his grip and looked away grumpily. He didn’t reply.

“You cannot blend,” Roman told him.

Virgil shot him a withering glare. “Thanks.”

Roman scoffed with a roll of his eyes, but this time he was smirking. Why was he smirking? What had Virgil done? Should he leave? Go find Patton? Was this going to come back to bite him? Was he doomed to be subjected to teasing from all angles now about how he was—

“Let me do it for you!”

Virgil blinked, wondering if this was still the same side standing before him. “What?” he asked slowly.

Roman nodded seriously. “Yeah. You really need a good lesson on makeup.”

Aaand Virgil’s walls were shooting back up. He rolled his eyes. “Peh,” he spat, turning away. “Whatever.”

“Why do you wear it?” Roman asked curiously, and Virgil paused. What was this dude’s deal? Did he hate Virgil or was he curious about him? “You don’t exactly need it. All it really does is cover up your freckles.”

Virgil stared at him, unable to reply. There was too much to unpack there — so much — and Virgil did not have the energy to start.

Roman took his silence a different way. “You don’t like them?” he guessed.

Virgil looked away, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “My friends... tease me for it.”

Of course, that was the sugarcoated version. Remus had erupted in laughter the first time he’d seen the little spots kissing Virgil’s nose and cheeks. He’d rummaged around in Virgil’s draws before finding his makeup kit and laughed even harder. Janus had been attracted by the noise, and while he hadn’t outwardly reacted beyond the twitching of his lips, his cheeks had gone pink with amusement. Remus had ended up breaking the pallet he had been holding in his grip, by accident. Virgil hadn’t had the courage to replace it, since.

Roman was staring at him, with widened eyes as if Virgil had relayed the whole story out loud.

Virgil shrugged. “I—”

“You don’t need to do that here.” Virgil stared at Roman, wondering if he was taking him so off-guard on purpose. The other side shrugged, as if he could read the incredulity on Virgil’s expression. “No secrets, down here. You don’t need to cover anything up.”

Roman grinned at him. Virgil studied his face, expecting to see malice or mockery. He didn’t, so he offered a shy smile in response.

Roman turned back to clean up the dinner table of spilled bandages with a nonchalant shrug. “But, since I assume you’ll be going back soon, I’ll let you and your disgraceful guise be.”

Virgil scowled, ready to snap a retort, but he realised Roman was grinning. He deflated, unsure of how to react. Roman shot him a smirk. “At some point though, I’m gonna have to give you a full makeover.”

Virgil’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Ha.”

The third time Virgil returned, he found Logan sitting on the armchair beside the couch.

“You’ve come back, then,” Logan said without looking up. He seemed to have better spatial awareness than both Roman and Patton.

“Where’s Patton?” Virgil asked nervously, uncertain about spending time alone with this cold side.

“He’s not here at the moment,” was all that Logan offered, which didn’t solve much. Virgil scowled.

“Figured that much,” he muttered. Logan didn’t provide him any sign that he had heard, or was listening.

Virgil scuttled forward, looking curiously around the room. He had left pretty much as soon as his conversation about makeup with Roman had been over. True to his word, however, he hadn’t put on any foundation when he left his room. The others hadn’t been in the living room; he figured there was a video going on. He’d been secretly glad, but then simultaneously (only mildly, mind you) disappointed when he found Roman wasn’t in the subconscious living room (what had been the point in being without makeup if the guy wouldn’t even see it?)

The sound of rustling paper tuned Virgil back into the present, and he watched as Logan flipped a page of the rather large book he was holding.

“What are you reading?” Virgil asked.

Logan looked up, looking distantly surprised. “It’s a fascinating piece of text about the intellect of other animals. There’s a theory that the sonar dolphins use could be transferred to sand dollops as some kind of writing. Of all the alien species on earth, dolphins pose incredible investigative capabilities as establishing some method of trans-species communication could be applied to actual alien species, should humankind ever encounter any.”

Virgil was a little lost, but what Logan continued to talk about did indeed sound interesting. So Virgil sat, captivated, and listened as Logan rambled on about marine intelligence and strange research into certain fish species.

In the middle of Logan’s excited ranting, he seemed to catch himself. He stilled abruptly, going rigid, and blinked spastically. He slowly closed his book and tore his gaze from Virgil’s.

“You do not need to listen to any of this,” he said.

Virgil tilted his head. “It’s interesting,” he said honestly. “I like the way you describe things.”

Logan looked startled. “You do?” Virgil nodded. Logan frowned thoughtfully.

“It’s calming,” Virgil said.

Logan smiled — the first time Virgil had seen him — and continued. “Well, there are multiple hallucinogenic fish species that produce effects that’re highly unpredictable but...”

Virgil sat comfortably and was more than happy to listen to the logical side talk on.

They must have sat like that for hours, Logan lost in his explanations and Virgil lost in the overloading of facts and information and Logan’s calming voice.

Movement caught Virgil’s attention and he looked up to see Patton walk into the room. He brightened when his gaze spotted Virgil on the couch. “Happy to see you back, kiddo!”

Virgil ducked his head, secretly mutually pleased. He watched in the corner of his eye as Patton rummaged around in the kitchen. “Do you uh... need help?”

Patton paused, looking over at him, and he saw Logan glanced up, too.

Patton beamed. “I think it’s been a while since everybody helped out with dinner. Logan?”

Logan smiled and put his book down. “Frankly, I agree.” He glanced over at Virgil, a silent invitation to follow him as he headed into the kitchen. Virgil happily complied.

The next few hours were filled with cooking and washing and dodging around each other in the kitchen. At some point, Roman returned and disappeared up the stairs. He came back down, stripped of the gaudy armour he had had on, wearing a clean shirt and bright smile, and joined them.

Virgil was baffled. This was... so domestic. It wasn’t anything like he had expected the first time he’d adventured down here. No sharp teeth being bared at him, no curses or horrible monsters being set on him.

Virgil stepped back to let the others take control of dinner, and simply watched them. They moved so in-sync, so naturally with each other. It reminded him so much of home, how compatible they were.

That made him frown, though. Why did the others hate these dark sides? They weren’t... scary, or mean. Just cautious. Careful. Virgil couldn’t blame them; he wouldn’t have been too thrilled to have a new side barging into his living room.

But now... they looked at him as if he was any other dark side. It was almost unnerving, how they acted like him being there was nothing different from routine. Maybe they were weird, and that was why the light sides didn’t like them.

“There.” Patton leaned back from the oven, satisfied.

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I should head back, now." It had at least been a few hours. Chances were that the others had finished now. Maybe they were wondering where he was.

“Awe,” said Patton, his face falling. Virgil’s heart clenched in his chest and he wondered why he cared so much about keeping that smile on the other side’s face.

“Quite alright,” Logan said, stepping forward. “It is ideal that you retain a steady, daily routine in order to stay healthy. If... you’re sure you don’t want to stay for the dinner you helped make?”

Virgil shot him a smile. “I’m sure. Thanks.”

“Make sure you come back sometime soon,” Roman said, moving forward to put his hand on Patton’s shoulder. “I still have to give you that makeover.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and flipped him off as he walked out the door, hearing laughter behind him.

He arrived in his room, the place he’d sunk out of, earlier in the day, and stretched. He was ready for a nap.

His stomach grumbled, and he sighed. The smell of the dark sides’ dinner must have gotten to him.

Alright, he decided as he headed for the door. One snack.

Logan wouldn’t be happy with him, he thought with a smile as he made his way downstairs into the empty living room. He had mentioned in one of his rants about the importance of a healthy diet. Sorry, L.

He almost considered leaving the lights off — he could see well enough in the dark (he must have adjusted well to the subconscious) — but then decided he didn’t want to accidentally break something and wake the others up.

So he flicked the light on.

And was greeted with the scowling faces of two very awake light sides.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #fanfic #long post #alternate universe #kind of #LAMP

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sidespromptblog · 5 years ago

Text

The Past: Part 6

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Seven, Eight, Nine

Summary: Logan doesn’t recall being Apathy, he can’t remember a single instance in his life where he was the dark side Apathy. As far as he’s aware he’s always just been... Logic, Thomas’ Logic to be more precise. He lives and he breathes as Logic and nothing more.

Except...He’s certain that he isn’t supposed to have emotions, that little things like being called stupid and having the word infinitesimal thrown at him aren’t supposed to hurt the way that they do. He’s certain that he was never supposed to feel, let alone everything that he does now. He just doesn’t understand these feelings, not to mention the dreams of a blank white tie that was folded to crisp perfection. He doesn’t understand the dreams in which he stands before Deceit and the others, with such a tiny smile, but a smile nonetheless.

He doesn’t understand, why when he looks at his friends... and he feels nothing but fear and anger.

There wasn’t much sleep to be had that night, not as Logan had groggily picked himself up from his floor feeling detached from his very body as the tears continued to numbly drip down his cheeks. He barely felt a single thing as he went about picking up the fallen plate that thankfully hadn’t spilled any food, not that he was feeling particularly hungry right now… or feeling anything at all. It was like that one conversation from Patton had stripped everything from him, all of his energy and the energy to care about the fact that he was so damn tired now. He didn’t even bother taking his shoes off as he slumped against the mattress of his bed, barely able to summon enough strength to wrap himself up in his blanket.

With his face pressed against his blessedly cool pillow, Logan closed his eyes that were still flooded with tears willing sleep to come to him without the extra baggage of dreams.

If only.

“You’re thinking of doing what now?” His arms were crossed as he looked back at the young Deceit, the side who fiddled with his hat refusing to meet Logan’s icy stare. He looked different, different in a way that Logan couldn’t even recall. His caplet was a mere cape that trailed down to the dishonest side’s ankles with a collar that poked up like the most generic of villains. But right now… he looked like a child playing pretend during Halloween, he was far too sickly looking to even appear like he suited such a garb. “Deceit you kno-”

“I know!” Deceit stamped his foot for a second, an angry flush rushing over his cheeks before he looked away as soon as Logan raised an eyebrow at his actions. “I know Apie.. But I at least want to try before I have to give up entirely, they get to be out there! They get to have Thomas loving them and everything! Why aren’t we allowed to have that too? Why can’t I have it? Why can’t Remus have it? Why can’t you hav-”

“Because we don’t deserve it!” Logan harshly cut in emotionless ice coating his words, ignoring Remus’ head poking out from around the hallway corner, watching everything that was happening. “You know damn well why we can’t show ourselves! We are who we are, and nothing can change that! This is not a topic that I want to come back to Deceit, but since you are so keen on bringing it up again… Morality has decreed it that we are wrong. Do you want to argue with him?”

The color drained from Deceit’s face as the dishonest side’s bottom lip wobbled and his eyes grew glassy and wet. Almost immediately Logan knew he had made a mistake, as Deceit stepped back from him a look of hurt spreading on his face.

“Maybe you’re just scared of actually trying.” Deceit hissed sourly as he stubbornly attempted to scrub away his tears, and before Logan could so much as reach out to him, the other side jerked back, storming back to his room with a huff and the sound of a slamming door ringing through the subconscious mindspace. The sound made Logan flinch, just the tiniest bit and before he knew it… something splattered against his shoe.

Looking down, confusion swept through Logan as he stared at the water droplet. But pressing his fingers to his face, a numb horror swept through him and punched him solidly in the gut as soon as he looked back at his fingers and seeing that they had come back wet.

Was he… crying?

“Apie?” Logan’s head snapped over to Remus at the sound of the other’s voice, he couldn’t understand the wave of emotions that flew over Remus’ face as soon as the creative side’s eyes landed on his face. He didn’t understand what was going through his mind, or what he was even feeling. But he did understand the wild almost feral edge that Remus’ eyes took on as soon as they landed on Logan’s hand, still wet from the tears that he was still crying. He understood just how Remus’ lips peeled back into a snarl, and how his hands clenched into fists. But… that was it, that was all he understood. “I’ll kill him for you,” Remus stalked forward, looking as intimidating as one could in a dinosaur onesie. “I’ll rip off his dick and shove it down his throat, I’ll-”

“Don’t.” That unbearably soft whisper alone was enough to stop Remus dead in his tracks.

“But Apie,” Remus whined, standing in front of Logan before gingerly raising his hand, wiping at Logan’s cheeks with his sleeve. Leaving only a smear of tears in its wake. “He made you cry.” It shocked Logan, the amount of genuine softness in Remus’ voice, much less the fact that Remus continued to wipe away the tears, no matter how many rained down on Logan’s face.

“It's probably what I deserve.”

Remus’ face twisted again, a smaller snarl, but a snarl nonetheless curling on his lips as a fire burned in his eyes. If looks could kill, then someone would certainly be dead by now. “Lo-”

“Logan? Logan, you need to wake up, wake up! You gotta wake up!”

The logical side in question jerked awake at the feeling of someone hastily rocking his body back in forth, for a split second his arms jerked in front of his face, almost as if on instinct to protect himself from some kind of blow or any kind of harm that would come to him. Just to stop himself dead as soon as he saw Remus’ terrified face peering back at him through the gape in his fingers, the look on the creative side’s face was drawn and worried, and the look in his eyes… it was a look that Logan could only equate to having something that you love torn apart right in front of you in a horrifically slow fashion.

Sunlight was shining through the windows, and his clock on the nightstand showed that it was already well past midday. He had… slept in.

Every part of him felt worn out and rough, as if his body had just run twelve miles, while his mind had been forced to take an SAT for every mile that his body ran while having a set of manicured nails raked against his head like a cheese grater. His eyes felt dry and sandpapery, even though his cheeks were as wet as could be. He felt… awful. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the numbness of last night, to feel nothing as he just went about doing everything that he had to do.

As dry as his eyes were… they had no problem releasing more tears.

Remus’ expression crumpled, like a tissue that had been dunked in water. “Hey hey hey,” He mumbled, hastily wiping at the tears with his sleeves, smearing the tears all over Logan’s cheeks, the hopeless expression making Remus forget all about the story that he had brought Logan to read, instead making something catch in his throat. “What’s wrong? What happened? Was it a nightmare?” God, if any of the other sides were to hear him talk like this, they would have thought that he had been replaced by an alien or something, or that somehow Logan was… curing him. It was a thought that he swiftly shook away, as he dried the tears on Logan’s face. “What’s wrong?” He gently asked again, as if two weeks ago he hadn’t ripped out Logan’s teeth and shoved them up his nose, and that he hadn’t temporarily killed him.

He could have stabbed him. He could have bludgeoned him to death with his morning star. He could have replaced Logan’s internal organs with confetti. He could have stabbed him in the heart while looking right into his eyes and-

“I… think I’m broken.” Logan’s whispered words sent everything to a screeching halt, as Remus’ head tilted so hard that the both of them could hear the sharp cracking noise that it made. A cold fury bubbled up inside up Remus. “My apologies,” Logan hastily apologized, batting at Remus’ hands as he attempted to scrub the evidence of his tears away from his face. “You did not visit me today just to have to deal with this, give me a moment and I’ll be more presentable and we can get on with whatever you want to-”

“Don’t apologize,” The cold fury burned brighter and brighter inside of Remus, who was it? Who was it that was making Logan feel as if he was broken? He would break them, he would break their bones twice over and then again for good measure. Was it his brother? Never knowing when to keep his mouth shut? He’d stitch it for him. Was it Virgil? The traitor? He’d break his legs. Was it...Patton? Something deep roared in Remus’ chest at the thought, he’d kill. He’d kill.. Kill. Kill. Kill. “Don’t you ever apologize for having a reaction to something emotional, ever. Just tell me what’s causing it, I’ll…”

He’d fix it? No, he’d kill it.

Logan rubbed at his eyes, as if that would somehow stall Remus and stop him from going at whoever was responsible like a wild beast. “I…” The words stalled themselves even more, because… honestly, how was he supposed to explain this without sounding ridiculous? Dreams were Roman’s department.. and nightmares were Remus’. How was he supposed to explain the feelings that stupid dreams made him feel, how he couldn’t look at Patton without feeling like he needed to run for his life? Who would understand that? “Lately… I’ve been feeling things.” He lamely said, scratching the side of his arm as he looked away, could he have said that in a worse way? What was Remus supposed to get from that? “Bad things, fears that I’ve never felt before.”

Remus’ head tilted again, as his lips curled back into a snarl. Logan was almost certain that he could see the faintest bit of drool, very much like a dog primed and ready to attack. “Towards who exactly?”

Shame curled inside of Logan, the name on the tip of his tongue. Did he want to tell? Did he want to set Remus off on Patton? Did he want Patton to get hurt? Or… did he even want someone to know? Did he want a protector? Did he want someone who wasn’t scared of Patton to step in whenever the moral side tried to touch him? Did he.. did he want someone who would listen and understand him and his fears?

“It’s.. it’s Patton.”

Yes, yes he did.

#logan sanders #logic sanders #remus sanders #ts remus #deceit sanders #ts deceit #questionable patton #logan is apathy #apathy au #intrulogical #lomus #sympathetic deceit

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twofacedbelief · 5 years ago

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please give me all the deciet and king headcanons. i need them for.. research. 🌟🌟🌟

research is always good lol

Deceit

He’s coldblooded, so wearing layers doesn’t actually do anything since he doesn’t produce his own body heat. The hat, the capelet, the gloves? All for the aesthetic. Summon him or catch him by a surprise and he will be wearing a sundress or an oversized sweater or a crop top and high-waisted jeans. Deceit is a fashion icon. He always wears heels though, unless he’s barefoot.

Short. Tiny. You would not be able to walk in his heels. He has both stilettos and platforms. Yes, he will step on you.

Self-care Queen™️. Manicures? Check. Facemasks? Check. Pedicures? Sure. Spilling tea? Oh, definitely. Keeping a regular sleep schedule and eating three meals a day? Not his definition of self-care, but he tries.

actually, I love Deceit using she/her pronouns as a gay man

Judges you. Constantly. Speaks sarcasm fluently and has actual trouble being sincere. It’s a defence mechanism.

You need to be at least a level 5 friend to unlock her tragic backstory.

Has one role model. It’s Megamind. It’s all about the presentation, babe.

Six arms are very very useful. Especially for self-pleasuring. A very important part of self-care.It’s also very useful when you want to flip off all the dumbasses that you’re surrounded by.

A Romantic™️. Exploring graveyards? Delightful. Watching the stars? Amazing. Being presented with a single red rose? Lovestruck. Holding a seance to flirt with Oscar Wilde? Yes.

King

His outfit was white with green and silver accents before the split. If Roman and Remus were to fuse, King’s outfit would be black with red and gold accents.

The biggest goddamn flirt. Sexual innuendos drop from his lips like fine liquor. Is actually aroflux - he fluctuates between aegoromantic, cupioromantic, and akoiromantic. Also placiosexual.

King’s preferred weapon is a halberd, and he can use it as a quarterstaff.

Speaks french! (Roman knows spanish and Remus knows german, so King knows french. It’s totally logical, fight me)

His favourite way of showing affection is through kisses and gifts. Will casually kiss your hand, cheek, shoulder, anywhere really.Has no problems with coming back from the imagination drenched in blood. Is it his blood? His enemies’ blood? What was he doing? You will never know

Fiercely protective of those close to him. A bit possessive too. His friends may not belong to him, but they’re still his.

He doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, and when he does it’s for chocolate and salted caramel. A rich combination that’s worthy of a king.

He will not be talked down to or let his and Thomas’ ambitions and dreams be prioritized underneath Thomas’ friends. Thomas’ acting career should be put first. He wants them to leave their mark on history. Yes, he loves Thomas’ friends, but their happiness should not be a priority over Thomas’ own.

King is the Ego, Passion, Pride, Creativity, Ambition. He’s morally grey - what does right and wrong matter when his creations make people happy? He wants to be loved for what he does, not for what he is.

Kingceit (which you didn’t actually ask for but I have Thoughts™️ and want to expand my Belief!Dee au)

When they were children, Belief and King were best friends. Imagination is so much better when you have belief fueling it, and Belief knew that what King explored was nothing more than a child’s morbid curiosity because there was no belief behind the actions. Belief tried to explain this to the others when Morality got disappointed or Caution grew weary, but they didn’t listen to him. All they saw was King being bad and putting Thomas in danger.

Belief has long since made everyone forget about him and started going by Deceit when Roman and Remus have to fuse to solve some problem or another. King takes one look at Deceit and immediately breathes out a relieved Belief. Because that’s his best friend, the only one that fought for him when the others turned against him. Roman might have been made to forget who Belief was, and Remus’ isolation and lose grip on reality messed with his memories, but King knows. King knows, and he can piece together the puzzle with Roman and Remus’ memories. King knows that Remus were nursed back to health and given a family by Deceit.

King actually refuses to call Deceit by Deceit, and instead calls him Belief, because that’s still who Dee is to him. Dee is flustered and the others have a lot of questions (and Anxiety feels awful because he never connected the dots since he trusted Belief but was never able to trust Deceit).

When Roman and Remus unfuse, all their memories of Belief comes rushing back. Roman is overwhelmed by the love they used to feel for Deceit, and Remus is full of manic energy, embracing Deceit and dancing around with him, as Remus thanks him and spills words of affection in a jumbled mess. Deceit is his family, and Belief was their best friend, and Deceit is his mum and Remus would burn the world for him. (Roman is confused because while both he and King are on the aromantic spectrum, he’s greyromantic and the love he’s feeling is making him view Deceit in a new light)

King and Belief/Deceit being in a queerplatonic relationship, Roman and Deceit starting a romantic relationship, and Remus and Deceit being family

#king sanders #deceit sanders #belief!dee

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jq37 · 5 years ago

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Ok, a few Unsleeping City asks: 1-Thoughts on new ep? 2-CAMBRIDGE SANTALYTICA 3-The gang tries to meet up for drinks

**spoilers for mutant santa melee**

(I’ll respond to the other two parts of the ask in another post!)

We are back with our first battle episode of the season and our first chance to see the NY Crew really show their skills.

Ricky trying to keep Sophie's reckless ass safe because he has big golden retriever energy is great.

I can't decide if everyone taking this first fight more seriously than the first fight in FH is because they remember how badly they got womped last time and didn't want a repeat or because they were just playing older, more experienced characters.

I hate everything about these mutant Santas and I want it on the record. I mean, they're great from a game design perspective but I hate them.

"Mr. March, I'm gonna save you!"/"My name is Rick, by the way."

I thought it was funny that Ricky and Sophie both happened to hit the exact wrong type of Santa for their skillset for their first attack, back to back.

Fig's Bardic Inspiration move was to do flirty winks at everyone. Misty's is to give big, theatrical compliments. I love it.

Ricky dropping gun safety warnings mid MUTANT SANTA FIGHT.

"Fucking come out of your stupid cocoon! I know you're not a butterfly!"

I love it when rolls are happening at the table and Lou is loudly like, "This is terrible. I hate this." He did it all through the family rescue rolls in FH too.

"It's fine. It's fucking new York. What do you expect?"/"The NY that I live in and the NY that you live in are very different my friend." That's the real NY experience.

Sophie going, "F the minions, I'm going for the obvious boss Monster, I'll take the attacks," is such a good character defining moment. Also, the action-y music abruptly cutting off as the door shut was hilarious.

So Pete is hearing mysterious whispers and Sophie is hearing mysterious whispers and I'm Concerned, especially since it's the two newbies and it's not necessarily significant but it could be so I'm just mentioning it and tabling it until I have more info to speculate.

Misty turning to Kingston and saying, "Just like old times!" makes me want to know every single detail of their history together before the new kids showed up.

"Santa's my friend and he's fucking dead."

I like the homebrew rule for Pete's wild magic surge which makes the odds of one increase every time it doesn't happen because it ups the chaos factor and makes it inevitable rather than just a possibility which I bet has the potential to create some real tension in a long, drawn out fight.

The way Brennan kept describing Pete's arm as peeling like a banana when he used his magic grossed me out so much so, if that was the goal, you did it. Thanks, I hate it.

The, "Guess I'll just die," meme but it's Pete going, "Guess I'll just use this evil magic."

"Darling I love to be naughty. It's my favorite thing!" (Misty's chaos potential increases with every line she says).

"SANTA GETYCHO ASS UP." (Flawless bedside manner)

I forgot how fragile lower level characters can be! I'm glad so many of the party members have at least some healing spells (I think everyone but Pete and Sophie) as opposed to FH when it was basically just Kristen I think.

"He just gives us a PS4 and that's it."

Sophie monkey bars up Giant Eldritch Horror Santa's exposed ribcage and upercut-kick him because stripping Emily of her magic doesn't strip her of her creativity or flair.

"Darling, with me every day is a show. My life is a show!"

Sophie, upon being complimented by Misty: Oh my God. My new friends are awesome.

The idea of a dirty rat man summoning a unicorn is hilarious to me.

Pete's first Wild Magic surge just restores his sorcery points, which is great as a player but, as a viewer, I really hope we get to see some bombastic nonsense soon. Also, Brennan had the wild magic surge, in story, be the result of Pete's magic reacting to Kingston's, which I thought was a cool way to justify game mechanics.

"You're the opposite of Santa!"

Smites are GOOD you guys.

Sophie catches Santa and and Ricky (who has just killed the boss Santa) takes a selfie with them. Bless. Also, Sophie refuses to put down Santa for the rest of the fight.

Misty has an umbrella with a KNIFE inside of it which I LOVE.

The fight ends a little anticlimactically because, once you bum rush the boss, all that's left to do is clean up the minions.

Misty mentioned having Shoes of Titania and I wanna know if that's an actual item with a mechanical effect and what its stats are if so.

Ally realizing they only some of the Santas explode on impact basically at the end of the fight was classic DnD.

Santa sending people into his bag was giving me big Naddpod vibes.

"What the fuck happened?" --Santa, 2019

I don't like the implication of the gestating tadpoles with the Santa hats. Like, is Santa's hat organic? Is it just a part of his body? No thank you.

Pete just lying to Santa's face for absolutely no reason. Incredible.

Santa and Misty talking shop, just because, was such a fun 30 seconds of RP. I love RP that exists just to exist (and, sidenote, I also love when it comes back around and becomes relevant like in Naddpod (14 seconds of absolute silence...chicken)).

"Santa, don't give this boy an egg."

"A very fancy egg for a very not fancy boy. But a good boy nonetheless."

Ricky on Santa: It would be crazy if you weren't real because you're such a good person. (Zac struggling to get through that was his second best moment of the ep).

Pete gives Santa a bag of coke and tries to dip when she sees cops because, magic or not, that's Who He Is As A Person.

Santa: Pete, your soul is in jeopardy. (lol, Santa knew his name on sight which, of course he did. It's Santa. Duh.)

CENTAUR HORSE COP. I love that as much as I hate the mutant Santas.

Ricky, horrified: Am I on the bad list?/Santa, who is still processing that Ricky never stopped believing in Santa:Ricky, no. (That was my fave Ricky line of the ep, in case you were wondering)

So, in this world, Christian (Catholic specifically) figures explicitly exist, which is good to know. Also, in last episode and this one, the grey faced child mentioned Lazarus which I thought was just a stylistic name choice but that's a name w/ specific Biblical connotations (that's the dude Jesus brought back from the dead for those not up on your New Testament) and it still might be irrelevant, but it's one more thing for me to tack up on my conspiracy board.

"Santa, are you Cambrdige Analytica?"

Anyway, Heaven and Hell use the naughty and nice list to figure out who goes where so they're not being redundant which is wild because that means Santa essentially gets to decide morality for the rest of the world and, as of now, Pete is super going to hell based on the look Santa gave him when they were talking about who's on the naughty list.

Santa's list has been stolen which is, como se dice, Bad. The specifics aren't clear, but it's super not good. Also, Santa lets the group know that they might wanna figure out what's going on with Pete before he chucks deuces and goes home. So it seems like we'll be seeing him again.

I wonder what the timeline for this season is gonna be. Like, Christmas seems like an obvious time for a big, climactic setpiece, but it'll have to be a really compressed timeline if that's what they're aiming for. Compressed compared to Fantasy High at least.

Sophie, illegally cracking a Mike's Hard in Central Park in front of a cop: Um, we're magic. (She gets a ticket immediately)

That's it for this week! Next week the mob (the pixie mob maybe?) and Siobahn has awesome hair!

#dimension 20 #the unsleeping city #asks #anon #I may be slow on the next post bc I'm on vacation next week and I won't have my main laptop #but we'll see what happens #also does anyone know if you can download content in the dropout app?#bc if you can I can watch the RTX ep on the plane tmrw #Anonymous

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