#first sanders sides fanfic

[rainy-day-revelry]

For all my Fairy!Hyrule lovers who also appreciate a bit of angst, may I remind you:

Faefolk hate the color red as it reminds them of iron filled blood, including red berries. Mayhaps they hurt to eat just like iron hurts to touch?

You can break fae magic by turning your clothing inside out. I’ve seen this shown as the fae being unable to see you, or in some cases unable to perceive your presence at all

Several plants are thought to repel fae, such as boxwood or rowan, but you could really use any plant for this purpose. I see daisies used a lot.

Fae can’t lie, only dance around the topic. Can Rulie?

As mentioned, iron hurts fae. You know what most armor contains at least a little of?

Dancing with a fae often leaves you trapped dancing forever until you die of exhaustion or your magical captor frees you. Rulie doesn’t have much experience with his fae powers, or with dancing. Would he know how?

Pretty please, run wild. Give me more full-fae Rulie, and give me consequences for that

[blazethecheeto]

let it out and let it go

Summary: Logan is angry. Logan has been angry for a long, long time. When things get worse, Patton steps in to help.

Words: 3,937

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdowns, Implied/Referenced Self Harm

|| ao3 link ||

___________________________________________

i am so, so angry, but it is caged.

can you blame me for taking a knife and hoping that if i cut long enough, deep enough, it will finally find a way to leave?

-

The argument is as familiar as the sun setting. Roman’s yelling about Logan cutting out ‘karaoke night’ from Thomas’s schedule, and Logan’s trying to address how little time they have left to finish their next commitment. There’s overlapping voices, there’s lots of swearing, and Patton’s about to step in to break up the fight when someone else does. 

“–So suddenly having a bit of fun is irrelevant in our schedule now?” Roman motions to Thomas’s general direction. 

Logan scoffs. “Having a ‘bit of fun’ is not the priority. Thomas needs to finish his work, the work he promised to get done by tonight. Then, and only then, can he fulfill other frivolous matters like karaoke.”

"Can't you see, Logan?" Roman gestures emphatically towards Thomas. "He needs a break, a moment of respite from the constant labour you put him through! He's not a machine . "

Unlike you.

The unspoken words linger for a brief, horrible moment between them, and Patton presses his hands together, cracking his knuckles nervously as he watches Logan’s face. He merely closes his eyes, clenching his jaw, before speaking again.

“We cannot afford any distractions tonight. He needs to take some responsibility for once .”

“Excuse me, he needs this, not only to improve his voice for tomorrow’s rehearsal, but to spend time with his friends.” Roman’s voice drops, becomes gritty and mean. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? You don’t have any .” 

The silence in the room seems to swallow the rest of the tension. Roman’s hand flies to his mouth, but the damage is done. The glass cracks. The stone drops. Patton’s eyes dart to Logan. He grinds his teeth together, and he can see the glare in his glasses flash a shade of deep orange. No . 

“Logan, I– I’m sorry–” Roman says first, his words choppy and hesitant, like he is trying to calm an unleashed beast. 

“Sorry? Oh, you’re fucking sorry. Now I’ll just sink out and let you have your way, right?” He says, his voice overlapping with a familiar wrath, his shadow on the stairs behind him growing and growing. 

Virgil appears, almost suddenly, scaring Patton out of his wits. He thought he had grown used to it by now, but it seems like he hasn’t grown used to anything. 

“What the hell is going on?” Virgil’s voice is multiplied, his eyes darting back and forth between the three Sides. 

“Roman said I don’t have any friends!” Logan’s words are clipped, almost in a sing-song voice. Like something had taken control, and none of them wanted to say it. “Interesting isn’t it, how you team up with me when it’s convenient, then lash out when I dare to contradict your egotistical views.”

He took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself. The shadow crawling up behind Logan, waiting to strike. Virgil’s face goes pale once he sees it.

“Logan, of course you have friends, don’t listen to his bullshit. You’re better than him.” Virgil growls, his voice low and masking his terror, and Patton has a feeling he isn’t talking about Roman anymore.

“Do you think I’m angry about not forming interpersonal bonds? That despite it all, I am not a true part of this family?” He presses his hands against his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m not, I’m not .”

His voice distorts with every repetition, and Thomas and Roman exchange a desperate look. Virgil bites his tongue, cursing under his breath. 

Patton hesitates, then reaches out to him.

“Lo–”

He whips his head to Patton, and in that moment, his stomach drops with certainty. They had lost him. “ Fuck. You. Patton . You think you know what’s right and wrong, what’s good and evil?”

The figure laughs, his hair messy and his tie askew. He turns to face Roman, his grin tiger-sharp and his anger radiating off of his skin. “You don’t know true justice.” 

Virgil closes his eyes. Thomas backs away. Roman screams.

The figure pounces.

-

Logan isn’t quite sure what’s in his mind and what’s real until after he regains control. 

He remembers the feeling of skin in his hands, of flesh as it gets ripped off, of slaps and punches and screaming until his throat is raw. He remembers Patton holding him back, his blue eyes meeting him in one breath of air before he is drowning again. 

He is drowning in the orange haze, buried underneath years of repressed pain and ignorance. He feels as if he cannot breathe. He feels like he might die under the haze, underneath the blur of violence and horrid sounds he cannot control. He cries out for Patton, for Thomas, for Virgil. They don’t come. 

When everything subsides, he is in his room again, his hands tied down to the bed. His tie is askew, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he is physically alright. Of course I am, he reminds himself. He is nothing more than a figment of Thomas’s imagination. Even the damage dealt to the others will heal. He swears he can feel blood dripping from his hands, but when he looks, they are pale and dry.

A thorn twists inside him, but he knows they tied him up for his own good. With one grunt, Logan yanks the restraints off and sits up, the silence overwhelming. 

He sits and breathes in the smoke. His bed is made, smoothed and pressed as if it does not know anger. It does not know unrest, and never had one wrinkle in its navy-blue duvet. 

Logan knows better. 

He gets up, finally. He looks at himself in the mirror, at his tired eyes. He barely remembers what they were fighting about. God, Logan doesn’t even remember why he attacked Roman like that.

“Lies…” A familiar, vengeful voice whispers in his ear, but he flinches and turns away. “He was never your friend.”

Logan doesn’t care. He finds he doesn’t care whether they have hated him since he appeared in Thomas’s mind, a smudge of blue, data and information streaming through his eyes, his hands, his head, his soul. That was all he was supposed to be. Why couldn’t he stay like that?

He doesn’t know what he is doing wrong. He’s tried to push down any hint of frustration. He’s repressed his hatred, and any other semblance of emotion. The small jabs towards his appearance, towards his personality. How Thomas seemed to turn to Roman, Patton, even Janus now, for advice, while he clutches his papers to his chest, burning with an anger the algorithm never meant for him. He’s tried to fight him for so long. 

It never seems to work.

Logan remembers how he had resorted to drastic measures, hurting himself to quiet the voice, to release chemicals that made his soul twist inside out, pain in every fingerprint left on those cold, sticky, knives. He can still see them now, out of the corner of his eye, stuffed into the bin along with all the plans he made with Thomas on rare good days. 

“You can’t escape me unless you hurt them. Because you hate them, don’t you?” The voice hisses, norepinephrine flooding through his body. “The only way to stop it is to tear them apart.”

He shakes his head. “That can’t be the only solution.”

Without warning, the knife twists deep into his chest as he remembers what he did to them, what he screamed, what he felt when he lost control. The venom in his voice burns in his own lips. Logan hates it, hates his own hatred, hates that he can feel bile crawling its way up the very back of his throat, scalding the corners of his eyes.

He feels like a forest fire. Burning away, absolutely out of control.

“You wanted them to die. Admit it, it wasn’t just me. You wanted them to continue screaming. For them to never stop. You want to make them see you, not have their gazes glaze over you, no, but for them to listen. You hope they will burn till the end of time, and you will get to watch, conscious as they relive the pain they put you through for thirty-five long years.”

Logan presses his hands down on the dresser, looking away from his reflection. He was right. Of course he was right. Those were his darkest thoughts, the ones he saved for when he was in a dark room, his head bowed, hot tears running down his cheeks as he took deep breaths to stifle his pain. But he would never carry out those thoughts. He can’t keep hurting them like this, even if the results weren’t permanent. They were permanent to his soul, to Thomas’s soul.

He glances back at his reflection. For a moment, he sees himself with jagged claws and ripping teeth, eyes alight with rotten wrathfulness. Logan doesn’t look away, only grips the dresser tighter. A trick of the light, he tells himself, as that is the most logical solution. He blinks once. The image is gone. 

“This needs to stop,” he says softly, quietly, like if he said it any louder, someone would clap a gag around his mouth and drag him underneath the waves again. 

This needs to stop. 

-

Patton knocks first.

He knows he hasn’t always been good at that.

“Logan? I just wanted to come check in on you kiddo, can I come in?” He says, his head gently pressing against Logan’s bedroom door. It’s wooden and cold, a perfectly straight rectangle, with the exception of a blue splotch on the door handle. A sparkling star that is slowly fading, covered by the new coat of dull paint.

Patton remembers when Roman used to bug Logan to decorate his door just a little, to make their Mindscape look more like a ‘Homescape’. When he gave in, they had both decked out his door with glitter, planet stickers, courtesy of Patton, plastered against the wood, and swirling computer code written on the sides. Logan hadn’t liked it at first. He thought it was too distracting, meaningless, and ugly to look at. That had really hit Roman’s nerves, and they had one of their many fights. 

He screamed about how Logan never appreciated the beauty in anything, while Logan argued he didn’t want his door so fully drenched in sparkle, while Patton stood in the middle. After they had enough, storming off in opposite directions, Patton was the one to find Roman and convince him to apologize. 

In the end, Logan agreed to let one star sticker stay on his door handle, because he did appreciate the thought. Roman sprinkled extra glitter on that one, to ‘shine bright in his darkest days’, he had said with a smile.

Now, Patton swallows as he looks down at the sticker, covered by years of hatred. He can’t let that be his last fond memory of them before…before–

Logan opens the door. His hair is gelled back, tie tucked into his shirt, his collar smoothened. Patton wants to cry when he sees the dullness in his eyes, the slight tremble in his hands when they lean against the door. 

“Are you okay?”

“I am alright, of course I am. Thank you for the measures you took to ensure I did not hurt anyone.” He hesitated, then added, “I didn’t…hurt anyone, did I?”

Patton closes his eyes, remembering how he tore at Roman like a rabid dog– well not him , exactly, but it didn’t make things easier when it was Logan’s body. Thomas was horrified, so Janus took the reins and removed the memory from his brain, before taking control of the situation with a swift hand and a grave look. 

“Kinda? You hurt Roman, but it’s all impermanent. Jan stepped in before things got too bad.” When Logan sighs, turning away from him, he quickly adds, “I am sorry I had to tie you down like that, it’s not your fault–”

“I know. It is partly mine, though. I am more susceptible to his …attacks, because of this.” He motions to his general person, the dullness in his eyes quickly breaking into a vulnerable one. “I am going to hurt you one day, and it will be real.”

Patton’s hand instinctively reaches for Logan’s hand, but he stops himself, pulling his arm back. Boundaries, Pat. “Do you need help?”

Logan looks at him as if he had sprouted three horns, like he had just asked him a trick question, like when Patton had snapped at him to stop talking, a long long time ago. But then he looks down at his hands, taking a long breath. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he says very quietly, so quietly Patton isn’t sure he even said it. But then he looks up at him again and lets him in his room. 

He steps in tentatively, looking around. Papers and calendars are stacked in towers, sticky notes crumpled on the floor, and a dull white desk is shoved in the corner. Then he sees the knives. As the door clicks behind them, Patton turns back to Logan, pressing his hands together again. 

He wants to scold him for not telling him about this sooner. He wants to wrap him into his arms and whisper reassurance that everything will be okay. He wants to fall to his knees and apologize for leading him to this point. He does none of those things. 

“I’m sorry,” he starts, and winces. Patton has found himself saying those two words too often lately. “I’m so sorry for everything, Logan. You needed help, and we just…brushed you aside. We thought you would hold all of us up as we dealt with our problems, but we were never there for you.”

“I know you are,” Logan says, but his voice is still leashed, like he is trying to hold back his true emotions on the matter. “It frustrates me that I can’t control myself lately. I’ve always been…so good at it.”

This , Patton thinks, this he gets. The puzzle pieces fit together, not symmetrically, but like a broken mug, holding each other up after being shattered. He can see the loneliness and the isolation of feelings unsaid.

“I think I know the feeling,” he laughs sadly, his knuckles flexing as he speaks. “You tell everyone you’re fine, that the heartache and bitterness will stay inside you like blood because it’s where it belongs. You think it will just go away if it stays there long enough.”

Logan nods, his eyes so painfully hopeful. “Does it?”

Patton shakes his head, feeling tears press in the back of his throat when he sees Logan’s expression. The knives they hold look identical in the light. “No. You’re– you’re suffocating those feelings, burying them deeper and deeper until they kill you. You made a grave within yourself and locked the casket. You can’t keep repressing…you taught me that.”

Logan clenches his fists. “Then what do I do? The other option is purely destruction, and I can’t– I won’t hurt anyone.”

“I’m not asking you to. You can’t lock away your emotions, or they will eat away at you until there’s nothing left, kiddo.”

He sees his gaze twitch to the knives in the corner, and Patton shakes his head. He knows. The blades were meant to silence, and maybe it did, for a short period of time, but in the end, there is no relief, only guilt, only grief. 

“Blood does not quiet the pain, no matter how many times you spill it,” Patton says quietly. 

“I just want to make it stop. But I don’t want to give into that rage.”

“It’s the only way. You need to get it all out now, so that there’s less there when he tries to take the reins. He won’t have that ammo.”

Logan shakes his head, blinking back tears that involuntarily sprung to his eyes. “I’ve carefully maintained myself for so long, and now you’re telling me to just…give in? So what, the rage wins?”

“It’s okay to feel rage. You’re not giving into anything. You need to feel it, feel it in all its ugliness, and then let it out so you can let it go .” Patton explains vehemently, but Logan just shakes his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up on his face. 

“I can’t.” 

The illusion of stability is cracking between both of them, a mirror breaking beneath their feet. Patton is scared no one will be left to gather the remains. 

“I–” Logan stops at this, running a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes wet and blurry and devastating. “I don’t want to lose control.”

Patton sees him. He understands him. He sees his own terrified reflection in Logan’s glasses as he crosses his arms as if he could fold in on himself until he disappears. 

“Please.” He moves towards him, towards his folded body, and slowly places his soft hands on his shoulders. “You need to.”

Logan meets his eyes, his arms trembling as he uncrosses them. Finally, finally , he pushes Patton aside, as if he doesn’t want to hurt him. The anger burns in his eyes, but not flaming orange. No, this anger was deep, sad, blue. He takes a deep breath, turning away. He clenches and unclenches his fists. He stares at the bin of broken promises and sharp, temporary relief. 

Then, he screams.

-

Logan doesn’t want Patton to be there at first. 

He doesn’t want him to see his breakdown, the emotion more than he’s ever shown any of the Sides. He hasn’t even shown himself this level of vulnerability. 

“I hate you. I fucking hate you! ” He screams again, punching a pillow, his voice choked and raw. He doesn’t know whether it's aimed at Roman, Virgil, Thomas, or him.

He picks up the bin, the bin filled to the brim with schedules and lists Thomas promised to do. With a strangled cry, he throws it at the bedroom dresser. The mirror shatters, leaving him alone with thousands of glinting silver eyes staring up at him from the floor.

He wonders whether he has become nothing but an echo of himself, leaving behind ash and rage. It burns in his eyes, through his heart and legs and chest. He smashes and screams and hits and cries. But this, this is Logan’s pain. Not his , not Thomas’s. 

Logan’s .

He takes a textbook and throws it against the wall, the noise loud and disruptive. He hates it almost as much as he hates everything right now. The emotion is overwhelming, god , it’s so, so overwhelming. His hands tremble as he punches the wall.

“I– I wanna kill you all.” He sobs. “Do you have any fucking idea how you made me feel? How you made me feel for years ? I was nothing to you. I did everything for you. I just wanted you to listen to me.”

He grips his hair, his eyes closed tightly as he sinks to his knees. He can’t see Patton anymore, only the blurry image of his bed, of furniture trashed around him, of sticky notes ripped apart like snowflakes plastered to his skin. 

“I just– I just wanted you to listen.” 

He cries for hours, or minutes, or seconds, but Logan can’t tell. He just knows he stays pressed against his bed, his head buried in his knees for a long time. He’s so, so angry. 

Then, after an eternity, he feels Patton sit down next to him. His presence is comforting, until he realizes he had seen his entire meltdown. Logan wants to cry again. Instinctively he tries to wipe his tears away, but he remembers. 

Let it out, and let it go.

He lets the tears fall.

Loneliness had always been his crutch, a grave and an embrace that kept him company, tucked away behind numbers and data. Patton was right. It did feel like he had broken out of his casket. Losing control wasn’t so bad when it was his own anger– and he realizes with a start, that he hadn’t heard his voice the entire time he was breaking down. 

He finally raises his head, the unbearable weight that he had been carrying for years suddenly lighter. Patton is watching him closely, but with understanding, rather than malice. Logan is startled to see tears in his eyes too. He wipes his face, feeling his heartbeat slow, and his breathing grow steadier. After another silence, he asks seemingly no one, his face turned to the mess in front of them. 

“Does it ever get better?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Patton’s face looks rueful, his gold frames sparkling in the shadows of Logan’s room. He feels an overwhelming swell of gratitude for the man sitting beside him, who had witnessed him at his worst, who hadn’t touched him or tried any sweet words, which would have made his skin crawl with fury. 

Instead, he looks down at his hands, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

Logan knows. He knew, he has known that they were all falling apart. Thomas was heading down a horrible path, and he didn’t know whether he could keep him out for another month, even with letting go of all of his own pent-up anger. And yet…

“We’ll find out together.”

The words pass over his lips, determined. Patton turns to him, his eyes wide. It morphs into a small smile, and he pushes himself up, standing above him. 

“Yeah. We will.” 

There’s one more thing though…the thorn is still twisting at his side. Logan remembers how he had screamed so hatefully, how he genuinely wished Roman was dead. He never wants to feel like that again, but for that to happen, he needed closure.

“I need to apologize to Roman. And Virgil…I think I gave them both a scare.” He chuckles, his brow furrowing in worry. 

“You don’t owe it to them,” Patton tilts his head, but Logan can see that he was hoping he would say that. 

“I do. I’ve been too angry at Roman for a long, long time. I think I’ve just been repressing it. I don’t want to hurt him again.”

Patton nods once, outstretching his hand to Logan. “Come on then, we won’t let that happen.” 

He allows one smile to pass his face, taking a look backward at his room. The smashed furniture, ripped books, and tears staining his sheets, chains hanging off the bed frame. He knows that everything will be perfect the next time he enters. It always is. 

But he isn’t. He never has been. As he looks back at Patton and his hand outstretched, it almost feels like a sincere apology. It almost feels like a fresh start. 

He exhales, smoothing his hair back. “Thank you, Patton.”

Patton’s eyes are a deep ocean of possibilities and sunlight. He smiles, like they had just fit two puzzle pieces together, not perfectly, never perfectly, but like a broken promise, holding each other up after being shattered. “Anytime.”

Logan knows the problem isn’t going away, if it ever does. But as he steps closer to the doorknob, his hand waving over the paint and letting the blue star glow, he knows that for once, he might be able to let it out and let it go, one day at a time. 

[fandombead]

The Dancer

Hello!! This is my submission for Prinxiety Shipweek's prompt: Music.

Summary: Virgil is the small (like– 5'' tall) 16-year-old son of a woodcarver who crafts him a little dancer friend out of special wood he got from one of their regular clients. Imagine Virgil’s shock when the figure, his size, comes to life in the nighttime. (note: Fairy Tale-ish AU!)

WC: ~4.8k || It's on AO3!

@prinxietyweek !

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Music

Virgil stepped down and wandered out of his space in the walls onto his dad’s desk, trying to get a peek at the man’s latest project. 

Patton was extremely skilled at his craft, to the point he was renowned in all the land for his detailed, “impossible” works. He had learned from a great teacher and put in the work to always remember the lessons. It wasn't a miraculous talent he was born with, but a skill he cultivated. He liked to say he gave a piece of something he loved to all his precious creations. 

Virgil didn’t think much of it, but he was lucky. His dad often made everything he needed from scratch or tinkered out of something he thought would be useful, and it always surprised him how crafty and resourceful his dad was even when he wasn’t carving oak and cedar. 

Right now, Patton was bent in a way that surely would hurt when he finally got up, intently focused on his latest secret project that had captured Virgil’s nosey attentions entirely. It wasn’t near his birthday; that had passed a few months ago and he had gotten a new Violin (and it was incredible how good it managed to sound. Even better than the first model Virgil had learned to play with).

But Patton had been hiding this from him for weeks, and it was driving Virgil crazy. As it was, Patton knew where all his perches for looking out at the shop and people watching were, and had been very good at keeping the new…whatever it was out of sight.

Virgil had caught glimpses: Patton had chosen a rather expensive-looking hardwood that Virgil didn’t even recognize as any used before, which meant it either was for a top-paying commissioner or one of Patton’s major passion projects that would require a lot of detailing. He’d also ordered an odd mechanical base from Logan: the clockmaker several shops over who he often collaborated with. Having a custom part or apparatus from him wasn’t unusual, but the secrecy had Virgil more invested than he’d otherwise be. 

He tried to interrogate Logan from the counter when he’d dropped the boxed mystery device off a few days ago, but the man had simply smiled and told him to be patient and he’d surely get to see it soon. Virgil did not like that answer. It only kept him awake at night and more curious.

Virgil peeked out from Patton’s old design books on the desk, trying to see what his dad’s arm was blocking. There were interesting scraps of sparkly and sheer fabric littering the table and he could at least see that Patton was holding a paintbrush in his left hand, tongue out in concentration.

As Virgil tried to see, however, Patton cracked a knowing smile. “Heya, kiddo. Can’t help but want to peek, hmm?” Virgil ducked back behind the books guiltily before shuffling out at being caught. Patton set the brush down. “Well, it’s alright. I was actually just finishing the detail on this, he’s nearly done. I was going to introduce you at breakfast, but I think now is much more interesting.”

Virgil gave his dad a confused look. “‘He’?” 

Patton just grinned and told him to turn around for a moment which Virgil complied and did. Whatever just to get to finally see this…whatever it was Patton had created.

Virgil heard Patton shuffling and setting things down, then the light tap tap tap of his small mallet.

Something was set down again, closer behind Virgil and Patton finally let him turn to see.

Patton held an ornate little red box in the moonlight coming in from the window behind them. On top, poised gracefully on one pointed foot  was a figure of a beautiful dancer, with chestnut brown hair in waves that looked more soft than carved and a just as soft smile on a kind face. He looked similar to the dancer in the ballet Patton had taken him to last winter, in a shimmering long-sleeved shirt and embroidered gold vest. 

The figure in his hand was posed in a dance, as if captured right as he reached out his hand to a partner, waiting. His other leg was carefully positioned behind him, pointed rigidly. If not for his base, he’d probably be close to Virgil’s height. Virgil looked at the creation as he circled it in awe. Patton sat back and wiped the polish and paint from his hands, chuckling proudly. “So, whatcha think, Virgie? He’s pretty nice, yeah?” Virgil’s eyes were wide as he looked back at Patton, near sparkling. “How did you even make this?? It’s so– I’ve never seen you make anything this elaborate before.”

“Well, I was gifted a very rare and simply elegant block of wood from one of our regular clients, Sir Fraus. He says he got it during his travels but didn’t say what kind it was. Only that it was in thanks and that he thought I’d know what to make with something this rare. So, I figured that I should make something just as special. I'm excited to show him the next time he stops by. He’s got joints to be posable and everything– and just wait until you see this.” Patton reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a small gold key. Virgil watched, walking around to see as Patton stuck the small key into the back of the box and it clicked in. He turned it a few times, winding it up and then let go. The dancer began to slowly spin on his toe, the metal base he was attached to rotating.  

Virgil watched as the shimmery sleeves of his outfit caught the moonlight, unable to look away. Patton smiled, also admiring the dancer spun, dancing to an unheard tune as his arm that wasn’t poised moved up and down as he spun. 

“I’m only a bit disappointed I couldn’t add music to the box, but Logan didn’t have a comb the right size or the cylinder for the song I was hoping for anyway. Perhaps one day I can get one custom-made.” Virgil tilted his head as he watched, sitting next to Patton to watch as the figure slowed to a stop, arm down in rest again. 

“Did you…name him?” Virgil asked as Patton reached around his son to wind it up again.

“You know, it’s funny you mention that. I went to the nice woman who sells fabrics from her home in The Den– you know, that little shop district across town? She made the costumes for the play we saw. Anyway, I was explaining to her what I needed and asked for any outfit suggestions and somehow we got onto the topic of names being important for creations like this. She gave me a few, but I ended up liking one the most: ‘Roman’. What do you think?”

Virgil had to admit that was very fitting for the regal dancer. He liked it. “Roman,” he repeated, nodding in approval with a tiny smile he hid in his arm as they watched him spin again. “Suits him.” “I’d say his clothing suits him too.” Patton grinned and Virgil groaned, laying his head in his arms. “Baaad, that one was awful.”

Patton laughed, ruffling Virgil’s hair with a fingertip and a wide smile. 

“Hahaha, I bet Roman likes my puns!”

Virgil made a noise of doubt as Patton turned and looked at his colorful clock on the wall. “Ah, I stayed up far later than I meant to. You’re welcome to stay out here if you want, but I gotta get to bed. Early day tomorrow, as usual.” he hummed, standing. Virgil watched him and gave Patton’s hand a brief hug when it swept up to ‘hug’ him goodnight. “Don’t stay up too late, Virge.”

Virgil gave Patton a vague wave of his hand in acknowledgment, not taking his eyes off the dancer.

Patton made sure the shop was locked up and then left to his room in their home above the shop.

Virgil sat alone, going back to wind the box when it stopped. He really did think it’d be nice to see Roman dance to music. And then he realized that it was something he could provide.

Virgil got up and ran off to his room in the walls. There was his little workshop space Patton had carved out and covered for his privacy, with a little balcony, but he ended up having to go all the way back up to his bedroom adjacent to Patton’s. He could see Patton brushing his teeth out of his balcony but didn’t stop to chat as he grabbed his black violin case from the corner by his shelf bed. Then he was immediately headed back down. He jogged out onto the worktable again, his instrument case already open as he set it down.

Virgil spun the key as far as he could, which was admittedly difficult after 5 turns, but he used all his strength to get the coil as tight as he could. Then he picked up the violet violin and started to play the first song that his hands picked: one that he’d learned by ear from the record Patton liked to play in the shop the most. 

They’d heard this one at the ballet and it felt fitting for the dancer still diligently posed on one foot. 

The pretty tune filled the air around him and Virgil smiled as it looked like the dancer was moving to it with the one arm that shifted as he spun. He could almost imagine he really was playing musician for this dancer, Roman. His vest twinkled in the gentle moonlight, and it was mesmerizing as it created a shimmer around him. Virgil was so lost in the music and gazing at the stunning figure that he did not notice the soft click of the key stopping.

He finished the song out, the lilting drawn-out end fading gradually, and the dancer stopped turning with his arm down in rest. Virgil was smiling, proud, and a bit sheepish that he’d even done it. But it was nice.

And then the carve dancer blinked, and Virgil gasped, nearly dropping his violin. He froze, staring as the dancer’s pretty dark eyes seemed to focus on him. Then it moved again, head tilted curiously. Virgil dove behind the toolkit holding Patton’s chisels, the nearest thing. 

Virgil stared in awe as the figure twisted around curiously, gazing around the shop and tentatively looking over to where Virgil hid. He tried to get down, stumbling as he pulled his foot free and nearly fell off the box entirely, much to Virgil’s anxiety spike as he gasped. Thankfully he caught himself on the edge with his hands and was able to carefully sit and hop down.

The figure was alive…alive?! Enchanted?? He didn’t think Patton knew that, surely! He would have shown him– or at least mentioned it so that his anxious son wouldn’t freak out. Was he even awake right now? The wooden man danced a little about the table, wobbly for a few steps before getting used to moving rather quickly and happy about it. 

That was a wooden person smiling over at him. Virgil scrambled back, startled. “How—how are you moving right now?! My dad carved you out of a hunk of wood!!”

The possibly possessed wooden figure blinked at him— despite Patton having never created eyelids with which to do so— hands clasping in front of himself as he stood and appeared to be listening, and even just standing there he looked like he was posed perfectly to begin dancing.

Virgil was a little unnerved that he just kept staring but his eyes were curious rather than judging or belittling like a lot of people’s tended to be when meeting him. Though their being nearly the same tiny height probably made that observation moot.

And he was the first person Roman(?) had properly met. 

Virgil didn’t know what he was waiting for but the other suddenly spared him from needing to figure it out by hurrying off to some unknown goal.

Virgil jolted at the sudden movement, scrambling up to see where the man—figure— Roman was going.

Roman popped out from behind the bookend, nearly giving Virgil a heart attack. Though before Virgil could properly decide if he was running for the wall door, Roman held up what he’d retrieved, out to Virgil with an eager look.

He had Virgil’s violin and bow, carefully held out in offering. Virgil blinked dumbly as he slowly took it.

Roman bounced on the balls of his feet a little before splaying his arms out, standing on the tips of his toes again. He was looking expectantly at Virgil and the nervous teen clutched the instrument as he realized. 

Virgil lifted the violin to tuck under his chin, mind reeling for what to play. He watched Roman stand straighter still and send a dashing smile his way, and suddenly Virgil found it easier just to let the melody that felt right flow. They both anticipated the start of the music as Virgil played the first clear note. His hands did the rest on their own, skillfully guiding the bow along the strings.

And Roman…Virgil had no idea how he knew to dance in such a way. He danced like a man finally free of rigid demands, and it was more enchanting than the beautifully poised expectation of the dancer frozen in place on a spinning point. Despite the freedom to move, Roman seemed to enjoy the little fast turns and twirls, and he spotted Virgil to keep from growing dizzy. It was impressive and alluring, the thin ruffly tule at the bottom of his shirt waving around his waist even as he stopped, catching himself gracefully with a flourish.

This was a man unrestricted, flowing in sync to the timeless music like he’d practiced it a hundred times and now had his opening night performance. His vest glittered stunningly as he moved with more grace and freedom than a person made of wood should have been able to. But it was natural for him. Roman moved across the table elegantly, the resonating sounds working with him as he reached toward the streaming moonlight like it was where their unseen audience might be. Then he was stretching into a near bow as he stepped back, going into tight spins as he twirled away, arms tucked in.

Virgil was in awe, turning to keep the dancer in sight as he played his violin for him. Roman beamed in his exuberance for just a moment before tamping the pure joy to focus again. The smile never fully left.

The dance and song sped up in tandem, and Roman swept around Virgil close enough to reach out and take his hand. Virgil was captivated and almost stuttered to a stop as Roman used his shoulder as a support, hand barely applying weight as Roman leaned in with dazzling bright eyes. It was a long gaze and yet just as quickly as he’d appeared at Virgil’s side, Roman was flitting away as if carried off by the drifting tune as the song peaked. 

As the song finished, both Roman and Virgil stepped into their final poses, Roman’s not dissimilar to the one he took on the stand, with pointed feet and one arm curved high above his head. Both seemed breathless in their own way, watching one another as they stood still, just taking it in. Virgil moved first, lowering his arms and letting a little grin spread on his face despite himself. “That was amazing!! How do you know how to dance??? It’s like you just knew??” Roman let himself down from the pose, the bright smile back as he padded over to Virgil. He laid his hands over Virgil’s bow hand and bounced happily, trying to convey his own excitement. Up close, Virgil could definitely still see the wooden body that made up the dancer, and the little joints that allowed him to pose freely were visible through his sheer long sleeves. Virgil held his violin to his chest, looking at him in wonder. “Incredible…so..you’re Roman, right? Is that actually your name?” Roman tilted his head and then nodded happily. 

“Really? Because I doubt my dad’s just guessed that out of the thousands of names, right?”

Roman pointed to the stairs that led up to the living area of their home then back at himself. Virgil looked a little confused. “I’m guessing you can’t talk, since…no voice box?” 

Roman stilled a bit but nodded once more, unbothered by this but acknowledging it. 

“Oh…well, it’s nice to meet you, Roman. You’re an incredible dancer,” he stated, looking away sheepishly and couldn’t believe he was embarrassed right now to be talking to a magical doll person. 

Roman perked up at that though and insistently tapped Virgil’s hand, nodding hard as he pointed at Virgil. He clapped happily and Virgil’s face flushed. “I-I’m still learning, but thank–thank you– do you– uh, need to rest? Sit down?”

Roman shrugged but tugged Virgil’s hand as he walked to sit down by the red box he belonged to. Virgil went willingly, sitting beside Roman who tucked his legs to the side, probably limited in how he could move this way.

They were able to see the moon and stars through the window across the room. 

“Are you cursed?” Virgil suddenly asked without thinking and winced as soon as it left his mouth. 

He glanced at Roman, who very much seemed to be chuckling at him, even as no sound came out. Ro shook his head. Virgil relaxed a little. 

“Oh, good– so just a magical creation? Are you…aware…of things? Like when you were frozen earlier?”

Roman looked thoughtful, then reached around Virgil to point at the key in the box.

Virgil tried very hard not to blush at the closeness as Roman peered at him and then the key insistently. 

“T-The key? Okay, you–you know about the key??”

Roman frowned, then mimed turning it and dramatically opening his eyes. He pointed to his ears and the violin. Virgil’s tired mind raced.

“...you– you’re aware when your key is turned? The music does it? O-Or, like– you can see and hear and things…?” he tried.

Roman smiled and pulled away, nodding. Virgil wasn’t sure exactly what he got right, but he was pretty sure Roman could see and hear whenever the key was turned. He started to worry. “And when the key isn’t turned?? You aren’t–aware of that too, right?” Roman put out his hands and shook his head gently. He seemed to search for the right thing to attempt to communicate before he mimicked sleeping.

Virgil relaxed as he seemed to finally understand. “Oh. Okay, it’s like you’re not awake, then? …How do you even know what sleeping is.”

Roman just smiled and shrugged, but the look he was giving him led Virgil to think that was not all.

Virgil talked for what became hours with Roman. He ended up showing him around the shop using his bridges and walkways along the walls, holding his hand as they went. Roman seemed perfectly happy to listen, and he’d point and get Virgil’s attention when he wanted to know what something was. 

Virgil played him another song when Roman silently requested such. He had no idea how the night was over so soon. They were back on Patton’s worktable and Roman was standing by his box, trying to convey to Virgil that he had to go back. 

Virgil was disheartened as he watched. “Can I see you again soon? I’m sure Dad would love to meet you, and maybe then you won’t have to go back on that thing.”

Roman turned back to Virgil, interest peaked. He gave Virgil a soft look and hugged him, gentle and earnest as he tried to convey what he felt. Virgil was very still as he cautiously settled his arms around Roman’s back. 

Roman pulled away too soon, and Virgil let him go. Virgil watched as he settled his foot back on the support, and posed as he had been, confident and with a professional ease. Virgil didn’t know for certain when, but between one blink and the next, Roman was once again just a figure on the musicless box.

He would figure out what he had to do to see him again.

—-

The next morning, Virgil tried to show Patton when he woke up. He played part of a song from Swan Lake and watched, but Roman did not shift from his spot, much to Virgil’s confusion. Patton enjoyed his son playing, though seemed a little confused about what he was supposed to see. “That was lovely, kiddo! It really is lovely to watch him spin to music.”

But Virgil just sighed, shaking his head. “No, he– last night– he was dancing! To my music, and smiling, and…and…” his face grew hotter as Patton was smiling at him, hands clasped and Virgil quickly looked away. 

“I’m really happy you like him, Virgie! Maybe it’s a good thing we never found the music for his box. You playing whatever you want is a wonderful idea.” 

Virgil was dejected. Did it only happen once? Had he truly dreamed it? No, he had seen it, felt Roman’s cool hand in his. Was he shy to come out in front of his dad? But Roman had seemed genuinely eager to say hello when Virgil mentioned them meeting. Maybe it was just conditional? Roman wouldn’t likely know– he’d just been just as surprised as Virgil when it had happened the first time.

He brainstormed about this in his room most of the day, coming out occasionally to help Patton around the shop– he was very good at moving small things about and getting them for his dad, as well as ringing up customers– and to eat.

That night, Virgil went down to the shop after dinner. Violin in hand, he turned the key fewer times than before and started to play a pretty, upbeat tune. The wooden dancer spun stiffly, but as the song neared its end, the arm became less rigid as it lifted with more grace. The smile etched in place became wider still and Roman shifted, lifting his foot higher then back down as he bowed. 

Virgil grinned, stopping as Roman found him on the table nearby and waved. Virgil quickly pulls himself up onto the base. “Roman! You’re still here,” he breathed, and Roman gave him a bright look and eager nod.

Virgil offered his hands. “Here, let me help this time.” Roman gratefully took the help, holding Virgil’s shoulders as he carefully lifted his foot free of the metal stand. Virgil helped and was shocked at how easy it was to lift him for support. He wasn’t as dense as a flesh and blood being, and Virgil didn’t know what to do with the fact that he could easily hold Roman over his head if he wanted to. He let go of his waist before he got any more silly thoughts and hopped down from the box. He offered Roman his hands and Roman took them to get down easily as well, hopping with a grace he apparently always possessed.

It was another night of strolling around the shop and performing for one another as music filled the air. They ended up on the railed windowsill beside the door. Roman somehow made him feel like he was a part of the dance despite Virgil being his musician, dancing captivatingly around him. Even as the song ended, Roman danced in the silence, and the music was in his head as he enticed Virgil to join him. Virgil nervously set his violin down and couldn’t refuse that beautiful smile as Roman took his hands and danced with him. 

Virgil honestly felt like it was only Roman’s skill that kept them from tripping over each other. He certainly didn’t know how he’d become the lead in this soundless song that they both knew the steps for. But he twirled Roman easily and guided him into dips that he’d seen dance partners do on the stage. It was relaxed and free of any real form, but they were miraculously in sync together.

He got bolder and confident with the trust Roman put in him, and how had he ever earned that?? He settled his hands at Roman’s waist as the other guided them there and he lifted Roman with little trouble. Roman settled a hand on Virgil’s shoulder as he posed and Virgil turned with him, then let go to raise his arms high, trusting the person supporting him. 

When Virgil set Roman back down, Roman was giddy, hands waving at his sides as he jumped and did a little happy dance in place. He threw his arms around Virgil, and that time he really almost did knock him over from the force of the hug. Virgil laughed, letting himself go to the ground as one arm wrapped around Roman. “Yeah–yes, it was fun–”

Roman’s smile couldn’t get much bigger as he tucked against Virgil, happily nudging him and content.

Virgil had never danced with someone in his life; not like this, where their hand wasn’t his platform or partner. Not in a way where he was on equal footing, able to hold them close. They sat there together, catching their breath and gazing out at both the sleeping town and the stars above. Virgil must have nodded off because suddenly the sky was lighter and Roman was shifting next to him.

Virgil sat up straighter as Roman stood, looking back across the shop to the table. To his stand. He looked down at Virgil and offered him a hand, gesturing. Virgil’s at-ease expression changed to one of concern. “You want to go back?”

Roman looked off to the side with a small, sad shrug. 

“If you don’t want to, just stay, you don’t have to go back.” Virgil insisted, taking one of Roman’s hands in both of his own.

Roman gave him a gentle smile, free hand held to Virgil’s cheek. He stood on his toes and pressed a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, hoping it said all he needed for him. Virgil held his hand there for as long as he could before Roman began to pull away. Virgil squeezed his hand imploringly.

“W-Wait! What if you just don’t go back onto the box? Then you won’t turn back again, you could stay! I-I’d love if–if you could stay?” he practically pleaded.

Roman turned back slowly to him, holding his hand reassuringly but his expression was apologetic. He looked down at his foot: a simple cloth slipper that covered the wood and the hole to anchor him to his place.   

Virgil shook his head. “You don’t have to get back up there! Dad will absolutely understand once he meets you— please. Let’s just try it?”

Roman looked hesitant as he looked over at the growing dawn light filtering through the window. But he nodded obligingly and settled beside Virgil, resting his head lightly against Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil tiredly held his hand and they sat there against the window frame to wait together, though really it was just an excuse to not say goodbye again. 

Virgil was not truly surprised when Roman went still and rigid against his side, his hand losing its grip even as Virgil continued to hold it, gently stroking with his thumb. He felt disappointed tears brim for a moment, but he didn’t let them fall. Roman wasn’t gone. Virgil could bring him back in the evening. But it wasn’t fair that he would not get to see a sunrise.

As Patton found him and fretted about whether Virgil had been out here all night (and he didn’t ask why was Roman off the box), Virgil was devising a way to change that. As his dad gently scooped him up and took him upstairs to deposit him into his little bed in the wall, Virgil lay there vowing that he’d find a way to break the spell keeping Roman trapped to the night. He deserved to bask and dance freely in the sheer unreflected light of day. 

Virgil would show him all of life he could, beyond the shop and all the music he could dance to to his heart’s content. Virgil wanted to play all his favorite songs for him and to dance with him again. Roman would get to really live, and Virgil was determined to be by his side through it all. 

[emphasis-on-the-oopsie]

It is 2 am as I post this but my first ficlet for logicality week is here!

@logicalityweek2024

[aredlemon]

A Part. Ao3

Summary:

Sure, it was only obvious that the breakup would hurt Patton. But did no one think about love itself?

Or

The others forget Roman is literally love but his bro comforts him

Notes:

First fic! Pardon me if it isn’t up to par but I wanted to get something for you out. (Also some shit happens in my real life, oh and procrastination)

Cw: oblivious/ignorant sides, slight Patton bashing, descriptions of someone looking sick, Remus comforting his bro, Roman has self deprecating thoughts.

Pairings: none!

~~~

It had been only about a week since the breakup. Not that it mattered, the others were still furious. Rightly so. It was all his fault!

The window was open, a slight drift moving the curtains. The sun was setting, casting the room in a low, orange light. The floor was littered with tissues, an overflowing trash can not too far from them.

Roman lay on the bed staring up. His prince costume had long been discarded. His skin was pale, rosy cheeks stained with tears only accentuating that. His hair was disheveled, it looked to be less saturated than before.

“Why must you ruin everything…”

A chocked sob escaped Roman. His voice was barely above a whisper, throat aching after what must have been hours of crying. He let out a shaky breath before continuing his soliloquy.

“If only you had just…Done you *job*…”

Roman turned to his nightstand. There lay a letter. A love letter. Funny wasn’t it? How the one to call Thomas all those names was the same person who called him ‘love’. It didn’t matter anymore. Roman had failed at his sole purpose. Keeping Thomas happy.

———

Remus paced around his room. Not out of anxiety or worry. Janus had prohibited him from entering the living room after he brought in a second dead body. It wasn’t his fault the first one needed a friend!

“Wonder how he’s holding up…” he thought out loud.

Remus seemed to have been the only one to notice Roman’s sudden absence. He was his brother after all, plus Roman was his favourite person to annoy! The others seemed to be too preoccupied with Patton…That bastard. ‘Oh look at me so sad! I am feelings!’ Well, Roman was passion, love for fucks’s sake! It made Remus feel weird…He didn’t like Roman…but they were still brothers.

“That’s it” and with that, Remus quickly vanished from his room.

———

It was deafeningly silent. A tear made its way down Roman’s cheek. He didn’t even bother wiping it away this time, much too tired to move. He looked sick. White hairs had started appearing on his head, all colour having been drained from his eyes. There was no point in trying.

‘At least I won’t burden them anymore’, ‘It’s better like this’, ‘I deserve this’, thoughts like these were floating in Roman’s brain. His eyes slowly closed.

“I’m so fucking sorry Thomas.”

———

Few moments passed before Remus rose up. Morning star in hand, ready to cause trouble.

“Oh Ro-Bro~ Are yo-“ Remus was cut short.

The sight of his brother made his stomach churn, something not many things were able to achieve. No, that wasn’t his brother. His brother was lively, loud, happy…this…

A loud thud was heard as the morning star fell from his hands. Rushing to his brother he sighed in relief when the faint heartbeat and slight coldness of Roman’s breath against his hand alerted Remus he was still alive. He withdrew and placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder, shaking him lightly.

“Ro-Bro, get up.” Remus’ worries came back, since Roman didn’t seem to wake.

“Come on now,” he growled, “get up you fucker!” He shook him more violently, worry slipping into his voice despite his efforts to remain calm.

Why was he even so worried? Roman was still alive after all, and he probably would wake up…oh for the love of fuck! Remus allowed tears to spill from his eyes, voice coming out in a sob as he begged Ro to wake up.

———

Roman’s eyes slowly fluttered open. It must have been morning, perhaps early mid day? Whatever, it’s not like he really cared. His eyes took a bit to adjust to the light invading the room through the curtains. He felt light, almost as if he were floating. Was this a dream?

“Hmmmgg…Ro?” A voice startled him.

Turning his head ever so slightly he was met with Remus’ gaze staring down at him. It seemed as though he had just woken up, still rubbing his eyes. Dark circles framing them, still damp from tears cheeks accompanying them. He looked so…exhausted? Roman had never seen Remus like that, let alone crying. Roman looked at him, trying to ask what was wrong but his voice betrayed him. What came out was a slight whine, barely audible.

“Oh you fucker.” Remus dipped down and hugged him.

Resting his head in the space besides Roman’s head he wrapped his hands around the prince. He felt so relieved. Roman was ok. He quickly pulled back after a groan from his twin’s lips reminded him that he was crushing him. Sitting besides him, he helped Roman sit up on the bed, making sure not to move him too quickly.

Roman felt dizzy, as if his brain was melting in his head.

“What ‘re you doin’ here…?” He slurred out.

Remus stammered, bewildered. Was he really being serious? “You’re kidding right? Roman, you haven’t come out of your room in a week, I come in and find you barely alive, and you ask me why I am here!?”

He didn’t intend on sounding angry, let alone upset, but it happened to come out that way. But was he at fault? Roman was acting like such an idiot.

Roman jolted back a bit. He looked scared. Upset. Worst of all he looked sorry. Ready to break and start apologising, saying sorry for making Remus worry, sorry for being a burden, sorry for being a failure.

Tears spilled from his eyes. They had gained back some of their colour, same with his skin and hair, but he still looked sickly. He tried to speak, but all he could muster up was a faint “s-sorry”.

No, Remus must have misheard right? He all but lunged forward and embraced Roman.

“No. Stop. Just…it’s ok, I’m here” he said as Roman started to sob into his shoulder.

“Sorry for *hic* making you…w-worry” Roman’s words came out barely audible.

“Don’t be. You did nothing wrong, hear me? Nothing.”

Remus patted his twin’s back, humming softly to soothe him. Oh dear….He didn’t like seeing his brother like this. He missed the brave, annoying, over the top Roman. As he made a mental note to give the others a piece of his mind Roman spoke up, finally having calmed down a bit.

“You’re…not mad?”

‘Might as well have driven a dagger straight through my heart’ Remus thought. “No I’m not. Just…I’m sorry, I should have noticed sooner.”

Before Roman could protest Remus continued.

“Just, listen, you’re not a failure, a screw up, whatever. Thomas will find someone new. Shit happens ok? Just cause it’s a part of your job to be love doesn’t mean anything. That’s only a part of you. A part of the amazing Roman.” Remus chuckled. “The, very sadly, lesser of the twins~”

Roman chuckled and pushed Remus off of him.

“Fucker” he said while smiling. ‘Well, what did I expect?’ Roman thought. Remus was his brother after all, and as much as he wanted he couldn’t stay mad.

Plus, the teasing was a part of him, right?

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed! Again this is my first one so sorry for the bad writing. Also for the fact that it’s short, wanted to get it out this week.

-ARedLemon :)

[joseopher]

🍓

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

At eleven years old I created a tumblr account and the first thing I discovered was RPF porn, the rest is history!

[esmereldapearl]

Prologue

Matches and Figures

Words: 702

TW: Anger and Mental Health

“Far from the ones who abandoned you”

His mind started to spin, the room was dim and his inherited anger was no help. Nobody, not even his dad, would help with his feelings. In fact, they only made it worse. It didn’t help that he wasn’t allowed to display anger, be seen and not heard. The room was becoming darker and darker, before it could not be seen at all. His furniture was gone, and it was like he was in his own mind. The orange shapes around the room were only making it worse, they would move even if he wasn’t and were always out of reach. He wanted to scream, tell his dad off about keeping him so sheltered, even break something, but now there was no door. Unable to get out, and it’s not like anybody would be coming in.

“Chasing the love of those humans who made you feel wanted”

He thought about his distant memories, maybe they were dreams but nobody was there to confirm nor deny. A little girl, brown curly hair, just old enough to stand, walking towards him. He thought about who she was, had it already been 13 years? Does she know about him? Does she hate him? It wasn’t making his anger any better, the shapes multiplying. He sat with his head in his hands, covering all but his eyes as his fingers bent. Even worse, she stared at him, her blue eyes staring directly into his, when he shut his eyes and imagined her, the room was white. Just the two of them. In an instant, she was older. This hadn’t happened before. Thirteen now, she stared at him, she had round glasses and such a familiar face. She wore a long, dark blue dress and a white cardigan. Her hair was still brown and curly. She was angry, so angry. Is that why she was visiting him? Not many come to visit unless they’re so blinded with rage- he’s the only one who knows how to deal with it.

“You tried to be tough, but your armors just not good enough”

He had his old glasses on, broken still from his last bout of rage. A friend, his only friend, told him there wasn’t a point to wear his anymore and to get contacts but he was putting it off. Since he could remember, he couldn’t see out of his right eye- he was more insecure about it as a kid when it was still healing. She was walking towards him, a bit of a stomp to her step as she was so angry, and it seemed directed toward him. He opened his eyes in an instant, shocked, confused, and less angry. His furniture was back, the vanity, his bed, the picture of him and his father- it was all there. It was okay- for now. He couldn’t shake her gaze, she wasn’t there anymore, but she was so familiar. He took his glasses off, they were too similar and he couldn’t stand his own reflection to remind him of her.

“Atticus, dinner.” He heard his dad call, he always seemed annoyed lately. It wasn’t like when he was a kid- what changed?

“Got it dad, one second.” He wiped his face, had he been crying? That’s right, everything did change. God, it had been several years already, he’d be over it already you would think, but apparently not.

He walked out towards the hallway and down into the adjoining kitchen, tapping his finger across the wall as he walked and stared at the pictures he grew up seeing.

There it was, the reason for the mood, the abandonment that felt sudden and rocked the core of the entire house. His best friend's older brother, someone he had grown up with, someone he looked up to, and he just left. Hardly a word to him, no goodbye, and shook his father more than he had seen before. The other roommate of the house, basically his uncle, had pulled out a match that night and burned photos out of anger. How were they allowed to be upset but not him? Virgil had left him too, you know?

Song name: Shiny from Moana

WOOOOOO! First fanfic I’m ACTUALLY posting! Hoping this won’t be a kind of thing where jobs check your social media- I use a pen name so maybe it’ll be hidden haha. I like to write and I think this would be a nice prologue, an idea of what’s to come, and an introduction of a character and issue.

If you couldn’t tell, this character is a side who has a parent who is a side, so I’m going to explain how that works. It’s more of just they appear, if a new emotion happens, then it’ll just appear, and depending on what it is, it’s like a child to different sides. So, if a new side is needed, it’ll just appear out of thin air and be there. As this fanfic series goes on, I’ll explain it a bit more, I just don’t want to spoil all the plot twists.

Here, think of it like how Encanto has all those new doors when they’re old enough, when there’s a new side, a new door is there too. And depending on what it is, like how the twins are twins, it could be the “child” of a side. Nothing like the uhm, way. Can you tell I’m very sensitive to specific words I don’t want to say?

This is LIKE a human AU but not too- I’m so scared to actually post my first AU especially since I’ve seen so many AUs where one of the sides has a kid and they get judged HARD. I promise it won’t be like that. It’s more of a “oh look, a child has shown up, I’ll take care of it” thing because they know that if a new side is needed, it’ll happen. AHH PLS DONT JUDGE.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED LEAVE FEEDBACK PLS

(If you need more explaining about it, lmk)

[treenissanderssidesstuff]

Dumb Bitchitis

Summary:

Virgil and Remy sleep together and it takes Virgil a long time to get over it. He starts dating this cute guy named Emile who couldn’t be further from his old flame, thinking that this guy would be safe to open up to after it all.

Notes:

Cause I’ve got dumb bitchitis I might even be a side chick You take five hours, I reply quick   — Dumb Bitchitis by yung cxreal

Ship: RemyxEmilexVirgil

Ao3 Link

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Chapter 1: Fuck Feelings

The only light illuminating the room was the cold blue light of a phone bouncing off of Virgil’s pale skin as it faded outward into the encompassing darkness of the otherwise night cast room. He was laying on his hip, chin propped up in his palm with an elbow digging into the mattress while bouncing between three or four apps on his phone as he looked for some kind of distraction before his mind slipped into self-deprecation and blame. The only other movement in the room was a chest slowly rising and falling beside him and Virgil watched it from the corner of his eye as it was vaguely illuminated by the blue cascade dispersing from his crappy phone screen.

When would he fucking learn?

One fucking text message and he was at it again. He wasn’t even sure what prompted him to answer the sudden incoming text message from “Tall, Dark, and Dickish.” Virgil knew exactly what he was getting into when he answered the sudden “Hey” with a similarly vague “Sup?” Before he knew it, Virgil was getting into a familiar black car that he knew, but only as Remy’s car—he’d never been a car person, beyond color and general shape, they all looked the fucking same—that was inbound on an equally familiar route. They stopped at an apartment that he’d absolutely been to before and as good as the sex was, it never made up for how much he felt like shit afterwards in the quiet of it all. 

Virgil could see Remy asleep on his back, paying no mind to him, even with the little movements as he snoozed. No, Virgil had done his job and he’d known it. Honestly, he’d half expected Remy to have turned away from him by now and simply lay there, sleeping—for real or not—until Virgil left of his own accord.

There was just one thing… Remy was still on his back. It would be so easy for Virgil to just scoot in a little closer, nestle into the crook of his arm. Lanky and small, Virgil didn’t take up much room compared to the other man who dwarfed him by nearly a foot. Chances are that it would hardly disturb him, if at all. Virgil could just slip into that little space between Remy’s arm and hip, nestle in, and pretend he belonged there for a quiet hour in the early morning before he was inevitably sent on his way again. It was damn tempting. 

Nibbling on the inside of his lip, Virgil caved after a moment and shifted up to his knees, crawling on all fours to shift about a foot across the expanse of the bed. He was careful about making his way over the top of Remy’s arm, doing his best not to shift it as he nuzzled into the promised land of being cradled the way he desired. 

For a beautiful moment, he thought it worked. 

“What are you doing?” a quiet, pointed voice asked him, still heavy with sex and sleep. Beneath messy bangs, he could see dark eyes pointed in his direction with a laser-focus that made him squirm in place. 

“N-noth…” Virgil started, swallowing as he tried to push down the bile that had begun to creep up his throat alongside his panic. “Nothing,” he said, steadier, but no less panicked with him frozen in place. “I just… wanted to get cl-closer.”

Remy stared at him for a long moment, before extracting his arm from around Virgil’s back. “Don’t,” Remy said as he pushed to sit up. He didn’t even bother to look away as he bluntly told him, “You’re not really relationship material, Virgil.”

It had been five years. 

Virgil wasn’t sure why his mind was lingering on ancient history this morning as he sipped his tea in a coffee shop that felt frozen in time, sending him back to sitting at the same table during exam week as he tried to cram in another chapter’s worth of knowledge. Maybe it was the place, the fact that he was back in this little college town again, the hellhole he’d gotten away from with his graduation. Ending up here again half a decade never part of the plan; no, he’d gotten out of dodge at the first opportunity with a desk job. Data Entry. It was easy and mindless stuff where he could make up the difference and build his portfolio during evenings and weekends in hopes to land a graphic design role somewhere. He’d been trying at it for just as long and hadn’t really gotten anywhere, until he suddenly received a call, he hadn’t expected regarding an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. 

With single determination and a lot of dumb luck, one of his roommates had made it big in the game industry with an indie title after they’d graduated. After the hours spent pouring tirelessly over the game, wasting away years of his life trying to do every part of it himself, Remus started making calls for a bigger team for the sequel and Virgil had been at the top of the list. He’d wanted Virgil there first to take things all the way from storyboarding to in-game art and design. 

Who was he to turn down that kind of opportunity?

Five years and it was like a time portal, the counter hadn’t changed, the smell of coffee and the goldie slopping away at the bowl on the floor was a familiar sight in a community where dogs were usually served before a line of customers. Honestly, Virgil was pretty sure that if the freshman at the counter could swing it, she’d close the shop to everyone but dogs with the way the girl was doting over him. 

It wasn’t a surprise to hear another cooing voice enter the scene along with the sound of a bell as the front glass door swung open. Normally that wouldn’t have been enough to draw Virgil’s eyes beyond the normal, cursory, anxiety-driven glance at the new person that had entered Virgil’s general area, but broad shoulders and a bright toothy smile pulled his eyes for a prolonged look. Their hair was pulled back and neat, pink framed glasses sat on the bridge of their nose that only drew his attention in a bit more of just how pretty the person was in front of them with wide, bright eyes behind those lenses.

He wasn’t expecting rich sepia irises to catch him in his stare. Virgil ducked a little further into his hoodie, shrugging further into the fabric as a wink was aimed in his direction. Sure, that his cheeks matched the color of their glasses, he did his best to disappear into the corner of the sweet shop as the other person turned around to order. It was only too bad that the shop was too small for either of the two to be truly out of sight of the other. 

“I’ll take a large, iced vanilla latte, a medium hot chocolate, and… what pastries do you have today?” He heard them ask. Their voice was more chipper than he would have expected just looking at them, but with their upbeat aura and shoulders up like they were both willing and able to distribute hugs at any given moment, it helped complete the picture of a jigsawed savior complex. 

“Of course!” the cashier replied, queuing in the items to the register with a few clicks of her hand. “The eclairs are fresh, and the croissants should be out of the oven in just a couple minutes.”

“That sounds lovely,” they replied, looking far too joyful and sweet, even for a place like this, as if they should be stashed in the display alongside the other sugary confections. “One of the croissants when they’re ready and I’ll take two of the eclairs, thank you, ma’am.”

“Can I have a name for the order?” The cashier asked, and Virgil’s ears perked up even as he tried to make a point not to pay attention. His mind and ears were in some kind of standoff as he stared down at his chai and kept listening in spite of himself. 

“Just use Emile,” they said cheerfully, moving even closer as they shuffled to the delivery counter to wait on their order.

Virgil continued to watch them in his peripheral, making a point not to stare directly lest he draw attention to himself. Surely, they would only be a few more minutes, and then he could start breathing again. He figured they would start fiddling on their phone or something the way most people did, but instead Virgil saw them pull something out of their pocket. It looked as if they were scrawling out some kind of note, just in time for their order to arrive in front of them. 

Emile, as they told the cashier, smiled at the worker just as brightly as they had when they first entered, even as they reached for their items. It seemed that the drinks were easy enough, but adding the bag of goodies, along with whatever else it was the person had in their hand overburdened them slightly as they tried to balance everything in their grip while glancing forward at the door, as if they were plotting for it. 

Though he wasn’t really certain what prompted him to do it, but without a word, Virgil stood and pushed it open before they had to figure out how to juggle everything and the door atop of it. 

Whatever berating was pestering him from the back of his mind about being both nosy and perceived, melted when that stranger’s smile was aimed in his direction. It left him feeling rich and warm, like whip topped coffee as the cream started to melt into the otherwise bitter drink. 

“Thank you,” they said, their honey-rich voice sticky enough to catch his ears again as they gave him a polite nod, moving towards him and the open door. 

“N-no problem,” Virgil said, low and mumbled into his hoodie, but he thought they heard it anyway as their expression seemed to only grow warmer, something about the way their eyes crinkled at him, like they were sharing a mutual secret.

As they slid past, it was definitely only the tight fit that had them brushing against him as they made their way through the doorway. He held out a hand for them to balance on if they needed it down the entrance step, but instead he felt something placed into his palm as they gave him a little wiggly wave of their fingers, another wink, and that pretty grin before they turned and made their way down the cobble street. 

For a moment Virgil was frozen, trying to figure out just what happened, but when he finally tore his gaze away from their retreating, distant form he blinked and looked down to see a pastry in his hand, a fresh eclair with something sticking out of the side of the wrapper. It was a pale pink info card with a QR code on one side and contact information on the other. 

What caught his attention even more though was the messy, handwritten scrawl at the top of one side that just said. 

“Want to do brunch?”

“-it’s just a shame how quickly they had to wrap up the show with all the controversy. I think they could have gotten another couple of seasons out of it if they had really started to dive into-”

Chin in his hand and elbow on the table, Virgil was certain that he could keep listening to Emile explain their opinions on their favorite cartoons for hours and never grow bored of the conversation. They had a passion about their arguments, and he found himself easily agreeing with many of their points. Though, the rare disagreement had been even more fun as the two then were able to parse their thoughts out and debate back and forth with different perspectives until they reached some midpoint conclusion. 

“It would have been nice to see them go a little deeper into some of the character’s trauma,” Virgil agreed. “It would have validated Lapis’ journey and even Bismuth as a character overall.”

“Exactly,” Emile agreed, waving an arm in his direction in a way he knew he’d said something particularly right. “It’s just disappointing that the network was too cowardly to keep exploring some of those deeper themes and showed their hand by canceling the show when it came to displaying a bit of queer representation.”

“Bury your gays?” Virgil asked, though rather than it being a thematic character trend, it was literally the show being stomped to a close IRL.

“Unfortunately,” they agreed solemnly. “Still, I’m glad the creators took the stand they did, it opened new doors.”

Virgil didn’t say anything in response, just staring for an extended moment. He could feel a smile tugging on the edge of his lips as he watched them, certain that he must have had a dopey, doe-eyed, love-struck look on his face again. They were incredible. 

“What?” Emile asked, blinking at him, a nervous smile coming to their face as they looked back. “Do I have something on my face?”

Virgil shook his head as they started to pat around their cheeks, looking for some missed morsel of something or other.

“You’re amazing,” Virgil said after shaking his head.

Their mouth opened, then closed again, burying it in their hands. “How are you this sweet?” they asked, looking up at him with helplessness in their expression when they knew he meant every word. Of course, he did. 

They were both taking a chance on each other. Virgil was taking a chance on a relationship at all after the series of flings he’d been through. It was easier when there were no feelings involved and the last time that he’d gotten attached in any real capacity… it didn’t end well for him. From what he gathered from Emile; they were taking a chance on another relationship. He knew he wasn’t their only one, they’d had a long-term partner who they’d known since they were both kids. Though it sounded as if they only truly started a romantic relationship in the last few years, as far as he could tell the two had been mutually pining for the other one for decades before then. It was honestly sweet as hell and exactly the kind of situationship that Virgil could imagine Emile getting themselves into completely by accident.

Though Virgil only knew the gist of the situation, he didn’t even know the other partner’s name yet. Emile had been quick to reveal that they were poly and Virgil was quick to agree. He wasn’t looking to be the center of their world, just a moon orbiting their space, a partnership. In truth, it took off some of the pressure that came with perfectionism, the idea of being everything that someone needed was kinda a terrifying prospect, really. 

So no, he didn’t mind sharing. 

He couldn’t say the other relationship didn’t have an impact, Emile talked about it sometimes, even though thus far, they’d kept names out of the conversation as they were both gauging how seriously their relationship was progressing.

“You’re the sweet one,” Virgil insisted, “or were you not the one that refused to give up on that fair game until you won me a prize?”

“I did it, didn’t I?” Emile asked, sticking out a tongue, still giggling around it as they did. 

“Mothfrog and I thank you for it,” Virgil said, their laughter was contagious, “but even you have to admit you were terrible at that ring toss.”

“And you have to admit that it was rigged,” they countered.

Honestly with the amount they spent on new rounds, they probably could have just found the plush online for cheaper, but Emile insisted they wouldn’t be leaving the fairgrounds without the stuffie, simply because it had caught Virgil’s eye for a double take. But really, who could resist a mothman frog?

The laughing kept on for a moment as they both caught their breath and there were mutual smiles between them, that hadn’t quite faded when Emile turned to him with something serious coming over their face. There was hesitance that made his own smile faulter as he wondered just what could have suddenly gone wrong. 

“Can I talk to you about something?” Emile asked. 

“That depends, are you breaking up with me?” Virgil asked. Their eyes widened in panic, like they hadn’t expected that answer and he hoped that meant it wasn’t what they wanted to do. “Because if so, is it okay if I say no?”

“No!” Emile said quickly, holding up a hand, “w-wait no, yes, I mean-” 

They held up both hands, as if asking for both mercy and a slowdown. “Please listen.”

Virgil nodded, even as anxiety started to knot in his stomach, at least it didn’t sound like they were trying to suddenly leave him on the roadside like an unwanted house cat that had gotten too needy. 

“You know I’m in another relationship, right?” Emile asked, waiting for Virgil to nod. 

He did immediately because of course he knew, it came up in conversation between them on their very first date together. 

“I was wondering if the three of us could maybe go out somewhere as… friends maybe?” They said, casting pouty eyes in his direction that made Virgil realize that he’d never be able to deny them anything. “It’d be nice to know that my partners at least get along amicably.”

Virgil thought about it a moment, he and Emile had mostly been going on outings together, it’d felt just as much of dates as any other actual relationship he’d had in the past, but even he could admit that it would be nice to be able to swing by their place without a sense of awkwardness of some random stranger being there that could potentially end his and Emile’s entire relationship if he disapproved. Truthfully, he didn’t know if that’s how it worked, but Virgil figured he had to probably get the boyfriend’s approval at least to some extent, considering how close the two were. 

Though, the prospect of meeting him didn’t lessen that possibility necessarily, instead it just sped up the process. Still… for his own anxiety’s sake, he’d rather know than not. At least having an idea of where he stood could help him get a game plan for what might come next. 

“Can you tell me a little more about him?” Virgil asked. 

“Oh! Absolutely,” they said, reaching for their phone as they started to scroll through it for a minute. “Let me just-” they suddenly frowned, and Virgil’s head tilted to the side as he waited to hear what was wrong. “Oh shoot, sorry Virgil. I forgot I never transferred over my data from my old phone.”

He was about to reassure them, before something lit up in their eyes and Virgil already knew them enough to know some kind of idea had clicked its way on in their mind. 

“How about this, when I get home, I’ll send some pictures and we can talk more about some of the details?”

They looked so hopeful, staring up at him from over the bridge of their glasses. What else could he do but give them a slightly awkward smile and a nervous “Sure, why not?”

And so it was, their date continuing from there as the topic switched to activities that would be appropriate for three people trying to get to know each other. When it was time to go home, it always left him a little warm that Emile sent him a text when they made it home safe, sending cute, animated gifs of cheek kisses and hearts when he’d confirmed that he’d made it back alright too. 

It wasn’t five minutes later that he heard his phone blowing up with a stream of messages and Virgil smiled, hearing the familiar ring-tone he’d set for them specifically playing on repeat as he reached through his bag. 

Though, as soon as he clicked it to life, the image that stared back at him made the phone slip from his hand and clatter back into the heap of his bag. Virgil had to grab for it and double check he hadn’t just been seeing things as he unlocked it a second time. 

No. 

Staring back at him was a picture of Emile and Remy standing side by side, Remy’s arm was wrapped around their shoulder as the top of their head nestled into the round of his cheek. It looked new, they were wearing the same outfit that they’d worn out today and though it could have been coincidence, Virgil thought it was more likely that the picture was just taken. 

“Virgil, sweetheart, meet Remy, my other partner,” the message beneath read. 

Notes:

I don’t wanna fall for you now But it already happened, don’t know how Now I gotta ghost you Can I can’t keep too close to you And I’m not trying to fall for you now   —Fuck feelings by Oliva O’Brien

[author-chan06]

hello!! i dont know if you'd like to write more poetic/interpretation-heavy reros, such as the heat focused fic that i really loved, but if you do would you consider writing a fic about the split? post-split, or mid-split, or maybe even about a metaphorical split, but basically a fic about remus and roman and the fact they were torn apart like that. i think it could be really fun!!!

maybe there could be an arts-and-crafts symbolism, e.g. about how their insides were so easily molded they resembled clay and such. maybe their desire to fuse back together is described as 'glue', or the way that their fate was written by outside forces (that made them into two separate beings) is metaphorically a pen pressing so hard against a sheet of paper that it tears right through it. anyway yes, if you want, it could be descriptions of their bodies being ripped apart in a cutesy sort of style, but that's just an idea!!! basically my request is: remrom split!

Ok so! Heyyy, :D! This is totally inspirational for me honesty and the work you sent also gave me a couple ideas! And since I’ve been meaning to write about the Split, I’m definitely going to be writing a longer story about it soon! But for now, I’ve written a smaller piece— the idea hit me like hammer and I wrote it all in one go, so it might not be amazing, but I had to write it— and it is inspired by a line in one of the parts you sent me! (You’ll probably be able to find the line easily) So I hope you like this smaller verse!

Skin and Muscles

By Author_Chan06

When we were torn apart you took the skin and I took the muscle. It left me an aching and burning thing in the sun, nothing to cover and hide me from anyone to see. Any poke hurt and any prod made me bleed. But I muscled through. I crafted finely made masks and adorned myself in cushioningly crafted outfits; I hide myself away, while you do the opposite. With skin nothing skin deep hurt you, though you were hollow. Bones and skin and organs do not make a whole. Anything you try to make falls apart, with nothing to hold it together, your disjointed body strung together by spite and vitriol and a love that burns to talk about and burns to expression. Neither of us are whole anymore and pushing us together should hurt.

But it doesn’t. Skin and muscle pushed together soothes, and lips on lips feels like a fusion of a full self. Of a full us. With no hurt to intrude on our hope and wonder and creative ideas. Together nothing can hurt us. It is such a shame, isn’t it, my other half, we are not whole. It is such a shame we are not together.

[intrulogicalweek]

Intrulogical Week Prompt Semi-Finals

All the polls below…

[writingsoftheghost]

First Dinner Together

(Takes place right after AA)

Virgil didn't know what to do. He'd gone over every possible scenario in his head of how this would go, and they all ended horribly. He really wanted to back out, but he promised Patton he would try to be more involved and present. And Virgil knew this was the easiest way to do that., but the sound of all of them laughing in the kitchen made Virgil more anxious to interrupt than anything else he'd ever experienced in his entire life.

Ok, while that was probably not true, it felt true in the moment. Virgil was just about to accept defeat, resigning himself to eating later after everyone else had gone to bed again, when Logan turned the corner and bumped into Virgil, nearly knocking him over.

"Apologies, Virgil!" Logic said, surprised, "I wasn't expecting to see you down here."

Virgil cringed and began to turn tail, "Sorry I was just-"

But Logan grabbed his arm, "Wait!"

Virgil jerked away at the sudden contact, but halted his escape attempt.

Logan had a sheepish look about him, embarrassed by his reaction, but he wanted to encourage Virgil to stay. "Would you like some spaghetti? Patton made a lot so there's plenty extra?"

Virgil relaxed slightly, an invitation from two out of three of them helped tremendously, he wouldn't hold his breath for Roman, but maybe Princey would tolerate him for a few minutes. "Yeah, sure."

Logan suppressed a sigh of relief, he had pulled it off.

"Virgil!" Patton rushed to give Virgil a hug.

"Easy, Pat." Virgil fights to keep his lungs full of air.

"Sorry, sorry. Just so happy to see you, kiddo. You come for my spaghetti? Best in the Mindscape!" Patton rushes back into the kitchen, "I'll make you a plate! Go sit!"

"Anxiety?" Roman is suddenly staring at Virgil way too much for comfort. "Hm- a-Virgil." He corrects. "You're joining dinner tonight?" He tilts his head with the question.

Virgil feels like shrinking into nothingness, "Uh, yeah, I guess. Unless it's like, not, uh, good? For me to do that I mean-I don't-like-it's okay if that's not-I don't have to..."

Virgil is about to make a second much more urgent escape attempt, when Roman stops him.

"It's alright."

Virgil stares at him for a moment, attempting and failing to read Creativity's thoughts. Was he really sincere?

"Oh, uh, yeah? Alright, cool." Virgil anxiously moves toward the table, he doesn't know which seat to pick, and he absolutely can't handle the idea of sitting in someone else's seat.

Patton quickly comes to his rescue though, setting an almost overflowing plate of spaghetti down on the table. "Here, Virge. Sit by me."

The parental side gives Virgil the warmest smile he's ever seen. Virgil's face heats up at the kindness from the other side. "Thanks, Pat." He takes a seat. Patton sitting down directly next to him with his own plate.

Virgil jumps slightly as Roman sits down on the other side of him.

Roman gives him an awkward slight smile, his eyes land on Virgil's plate, which Patton had piled impossibly high with spaghetti.

"Good god, Pat. That's a mountain!"

Patton smiles sheepishly, "Sorry, Virge. I just wanted to make sure you had plenty to eat."

Virgil chuckles, "Thanks, Patton. I'll be all set for the week."

Logan laughs, "Careful, Virgil, if you manage to eat it all Patton will try to give you seconds."

Patton swats Logan's arm playfully, "Is it a crime to make sure my family is fed?"

Virgil laughs, his heart warming at the implication that he was family. He was easing more and more into the idea, and even beginning to hope that this wouldn't be their last shared meal.

[southerndragontamer]

Egotober Day 21: Shadow

It wasn’t the first time Janus had been in the background while Thomas was busy during the day. He had been here longer than most of the other Sides realized, he wasn’t just Deceit after all, but as Thomas had had it shoved down his throat that Self Preservation was selfish, wasn’t ‘good’. That if he looked out for himself that he was a bad person almost all his life. The snake like Side had been in the shadow for a very long time.

He wasn’t at all an umbrakinetic but he could navigate in it as well as the animal he shared scales with. He watched Thomas joke around with friends, his reptilian gold eyes narrowed as he accepted an offer to hang out and reassured his friend he did want to. The lie tasted bittersweet to his senses, like semi sweet chocolate. Not a complete falsehood but not entirely true either.

Thomas still wasn’t taking full care of himself, wasn’t letting himself realize that being selfish sometimes wasn’t a bad thing and it made Janus want to hiss. Snap his fangs in frustration because they’d already talked about this. He could see better than anyone that he was stressed from doing so much already, that he was stretched thin from multiple angles. Oh he knew that Thomas wanted to be a good friend and didn’t want to make it seem like he was ignoring them if they needed him, but that was the whole crux of the problem.

Thomas needed time for himself, whether that was playing a game, reading, or even taking a walk or nap. Just something Thomas enjoyed that was only for himself, his batteries needed a recharge before he crashed. Before they experienced another meltdown.

Time for his shadow to come to the light, so to speak. Janus waited until Thomas was physically alone and then pulled him into the mindscape, he stepped out and cleared his throat.

“Thomas, we need to talk.”

He just hoped that he would be listened to this time, he really did have Thomas’ best interests at heart, Dark Side or not.

[edupunkn00b]

Remus

Remus, a sophomore, attends a first year Law School party under false pretenses.

Janus leaves said party, drunk and annoyed that his friend Jack has yet again deserted him as he chased some tail.

It's a storybook meet cute, right? ---

WC: 4918 - Rated M - alcohol, underage (19 yo) drinking, heavily suggestive, kissing, swearing, angst (with comfort) - Celebrating Remus' birthday by exploring some mature content ---

It was a gorgeous day. It was cool without being cold and the clear, bright autumn light made the entire campus glow. Remus had his sketchbook and pencils and slowly made his way to the Quad outside the dining hall. He was early to meet Roman for dinner, but he wanted to capture all the colors before the setting sun—and impending Seattle rain—leeched them all away.

He had nearly gotten to his favorite tree, the giant gingko at the center of the Quad, when a smiling upperclassman approached him. "Oh, Roman, thank god I found you! I've been looking for you everywhere! Are you free tonight to help block the stage for my play?"

Remus smiled back and tilted his head with a little shoulder shimmy. "Well, hello, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, but I'm not Roman." He pressed a hand to his chest, and bowed. "I'm Remus, his twin."

The man's face fell a bit. "Oh, sorry to bother you. Um, well, if you see Roman, will you let him know Nate's looking for him?"

Remus nodded and opened his mouth to reply but the man had already started off in the other direction. Remus shrugged and resumed walking.

He camped out under his favorite tree along the path he knew Roman would have to take on his way to the dining hall, pulled on his headphones and started drawing. After several minutes, he was interrupted by someone tapping his shoulder and waving a hand in front of his face. He freed one ear. She was smiling broadly, "I said, Roman, I didn't know you were an artist, too! Does that make you a quadruple threat?"

Remus grinned as wide as he could and spread his arms as if to say 'tada!' "You've got Roman's one and only brother Remus this afternoon!" He pretended not to notice the fractional dip in the girl's smile when he said his name. "You like art? I've got other sketches here..." He reached out as though to shake her hand, "You know my name now, what's yours?"

Her smile had shrunk to a small and polite closed-lipped ghost of its former self. "Oh, hi, Remus..." She gave the tiniest of shrugs. "I thought you were Roman. Uh, my name's Debbie. It's nice to meet you, but I should be getting to class." She started to turn. "See you around."

Remus kept the grin pasted on his face, "Sure, see you around..." He’d swallowed and replaced the headphones and returned to his drawing when he was interrupted yet again.

"Oh, Roman... just the man I wanted to see!" Remus' shoulders knotted and he sucked in a deep breath, ready to once more with feeling explain that he was sorry to disappoint the world but he was not, in fact, the dashing actor/singer/dancer Roman Prince, but only his identical-but-still-somehow-lesser-twin brother, Remus. He lifted his eyes and saw the hottest guy he'd seen all year—or at least that week. 

Fuck it. If they all wanted him to be Roman... then he'd be Roman.

"Well, hello there. And you’re just the man I wanted to see..." Remus dragged his eyes up and down the body of the tall, muscular man standing before him and grinned. "What can I do you for this lovely evening?"

The man laughed and offered his hand. Remus grabbed it and pulled himself up. “I’m throwing a little get together at my place tonight,” he smiled. “You should come.”

Remus bit his lower lip and smiled. “I’d love to come… to your party.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he laughed again and took Remus’ hand and scrawled the address of a building just off campus. He closed his fingers over his palm then brought his hand up for a soft kiss. “See you at seven, Roman?”

“I'll be there, baby.”

~~~

If Janus had to listen to one more cover of Hey Baby he was going to take a fucking mallet to Jack’s stereo.

He nursed his second scotch and scowled out at the buzzed party goers bouncing against each other in a gross approximation of dancing. It seemed like their entire first year law school class was jammed into that apartment, along with a dozen or so googly-eyed undergrads readily downing the potluck punch on the counter.

And Jack? His so-called best friend Jack who’d somehow convinced him to come to this third-rate tribute to the cult of Dionysis was wrapped around that sophomore he’d picked up on the Quad.

The younger man laughed again, a loud, almost nervous cackle, then rubbed up against Jack like they weren’t in the middle of a crowded party. Finally, Jack seemed to get an ounce of sense and disappeared with the guy into his bedroom.

Despite the pounding music, the room was quieter without them and Janus sat back in his chair, lifting his now empty glass to his lips. Fuck.

The bottle he’d snagged from the kitchen sat empty on the little table at his elbow. He knew where Jack had more but it would mean relinquishing his seat. One more, then he’d head home.

True to his prediction, the moment he stood, a couple swooped in, wrapped around each other and trying to swallow each other's faces. Rolling his eyes, he fished out the bottle at the back of Jack’s cereal cabinet and poured himself another healthy serving.

As he sipped, his eyes cast over the party. Surely there was someone here worth meeting, if only for a night. A shrieking cheer burst from the makeshift dance floor when Can’t Take Me Home played for the third time and everyone paired up to find new ways to drunkenly grind their genitals together.

“Prescient,” he muttered and drained his glass.

“You sick fuck!” Jack’s shout rose above the din but the rest of the party goers didn’t seem to notice. “You thought I wouldn’t care?”

“No, Jack, baby…” That obnoxious undergrad’s croon churned uncomfortably in Janus’ stomach, the voice was wrong but the tone…. Janus shook his head and swallowed back his first thought. “Of course you’d—” His voice cracked. ”It’s why I said something. I—”

“Just get the fuck out.” Jack didn’t even yell. He’d dragged the guy, half-naked, out to the living room and Janus watched from behind the kitchen island. The guy had stopped, struggling to button up his fly, when Jack shoved a bundle of clothes and a grungy pair of boots into his arms. He opened the door, barely waiting long enough for the guy to leave before letting it slam shut.

Jack caught his eye. “Jan!” His half-drunken smile returned as he slunk through the crowd to join him in the kitchen. “I see you found my Ballantine’s,” he laughed and swiped Janus’ empty glass and the bottle, refilling it. He gulped down half of it before returning it to him.

“What was that all about?” Janus asked, looking pointedly at the door.

“Ah, nothing worth worrying about,” he shook his head. “Hm, but that ”—Jack winked at a senior dressed in leather pants and a cropped mesh tank that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. “Now that’s something I’d like to concern myself with. Excuse me, mon ami. You’re good for a while, right?” he asked, clapping Janus’ back and walking away before he could answer.

He hadn’t yet finished his drink by the time Jack was leading a replacement conquest back to his room. Janus knew he wasn’t really one to judge but at least he bothered to let his sheets cool before he pulled someone new into his bed.

Slamming back the dregs of his fourth—fifth?—and last drink, Janus left the glass in the sink and took the bottle with him before slipping out into the hallway.

The door closed behind him with a heavy thunk and the quiet hallway swallowed up the echo of the party. He leaned against the door, relishing the moment the ringing in his ears faded away, leaving only the hum of machinery from the elevator.

And quiet sniffling from the stairwell.

Janus stepped closer, toe-heeling his way down the carpeted hall until he peeked around the corner and spotted Jack’s sophomore from the party, now fully dressed and sitting on the steps. His back was turned to Janus, but his auburn hair and faded Green Day tee shirt were unmistakable. Sitting two steps down and curled against the wall, he’d tucked his feet up on the same step and hugged them to his chest like a lost friend.

It felt rude to pretend he wasn’t there while he waited for the elevator, so Janus cleared his throat and stepped closer. The guy bolted upright, scuffed Docs skidding down a step and he craned his neck to look over his shoulder.

Pater, you asshole. Don't talk to him. Don't talk to him, don't talk to him, don’t—

“Hey,” Janus murmured, fishing in his pockets for a tissue. “You, uh… You alright?” He set down the whiskey bottle and finally found a little packet and passed it down to him. “Are you hurt?”

A sharp smile cut across his face and he scrubbed his eyes dry with one sleeve even as he struggled to pull out a tissue. “Of course, I’m fine, cutie.” His gaze danced over the banister, up and down the steps, everywhere but Janus’ eyes. “I’m doin’ just fine. How are you doin’?”

Janus frowned as he tried to meet his eyes. He had a tiny scar in the outer corner, just below his eyebrow. Gabe had had a scar there, too. But bright green eyes peeked through auburn curls instead of that familiar warm ebony. 

They carried the same sadness, though. 

He shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you for asking,” he murmured, smoothing his mask back on. “Weren’t you at the party with Jack?” he asked, deflecting his flirting. He was certain the guy hadn’t noticed him there, and it could give him an out at least.

“Yeah, I was, but…” he looked away but not before Janus saw his smile disintegrate.

“That bad, huh?” C’mon, man, save us both some face. “I always suspected Jack was a selfish lover but I figured he’d at least give you a reach around,” he tried to joke.

The guy barked out a wet laugh. “I wouldn’t know. We didn’t get that far.” He scrubbed away more tears with the heel of his palm and shrugged before he again hugged his legs close to his chest. “Jack had me confused with someone else and, once I told him, he…” his voice cracked, belying his earlier wicked grin and sultry little wink.

“You have a doppelganger around here?”

“Yeah…” he whispered, “My twin.”

“Ah.” Janus squinted at him. For all his obnoxious innuendos and loud flirtation at the party, the man now sat hunched on a dirty step, arms wrapped around his shins, practically the fetal position. He looked like he wanted to sink into the floor and Janus’ hands twitched, nearly overwhelmed by the desire to wipe away the fresh tears slowly trailing down his cheek. He’s not Gabe, he’s not Gabe, he’s not Gabe.

A thought seeped through his tipsy mind and went straight to his mouth. “But, wait… you didn’t realize Jack had you confused with your twin?”

He shifted on the step, chewing at his lip. He looked like he’d eaten something rotten.

“Ah,” Janus said again, quieter this time. The man somehow shrunk further into himself. He stepped a little closer, drawn by something he couldn’t explain. “So if you’re not your brother, who are you?”

He looked up at Janus, trying—and failing—to hide the wobble in his lower lip. “You won’t laugh?” Janus raised a hand with a wink.

“Never.” 

“I’m Remus,” he said quietly. “And not from that fucking book.”

Janus sat down next to him. “I’d never laugh at the founder of Rome.”

Remus’ lips twitched with a surprised smile, eyeing Janus from the corner of his eyes.

“Besides, Remus, I’ve got you beat.”

He smirked. “Oh, yeah, where’s your paddle, Daddy?”

Janus threw his back and laughed. “I prefer ‘Sir,’” he said, shaking his head and pretending to stand.

“Okay, for real,” Remus grabbed at his sleeve, a flash of genuine warmth in his smile. “Tell me? What’s your name?”

Not Gabe. That same mix of soft spice. But different. Alcohol sang through his veins, muffling the alarms in his chest. “My name is Janus,” he said at last.

Remus’ eyebrows jumped up and his grin broadened. “Latin?” Janus nodded and a smile slowly spread across his face.

“Hm… I really do need to brush up on my Latin studies.” His eyes dragged over Janus’ body as he licked his lips. Janus felt his face and chest flush and Remus only pouted, sliding a little closer. “The only thing I know how to say is cum magna calor.”

“I don’t believe that word means what you think it means.” 

“Maybe you should give me some lessons.” He let his palm rest on Janus' knee. “I’m a quick study.”

He’s not Gabe, he’s not Gabe, he’s not Gabe. It’s just a fucking scar, Pater. He’s not Gabe.

Remus’ hand slid up his thigh, his hot palm burning through the thin material of Janus’ slacks.

“I might have something for that back at my place,” he finally purred, staring back into those bright green eyes. “It’s a bit of a walk, but… you look like you've got some stamina.”

Remus stood, taking Janus’ hand. “I’ve got an even better idea.”

~~~~~

The night had turned cold since the party started and Remus curled one arm around Janus’ waist as they walked. “We’ll keep eachother warm,” he murmured, tentatively sliding a hand into his back pocket. Janus just smiled back and took a swig from the bottle he’d apparently stolen from Jack’s party.

“This’ll keep us warm, too,” he almost slurred, pressing the bottle into Remus’ empty hand.

He watched Janus’ eyes as he drank, the whiskey burning far more than the punch had at the party. Janus hadn’t even flinched as he drank and, though Remus tried to hide it, the other man noticed.

“Oh, a light weight,” he grinned, capping the bottle and pulling him closer as they walked. 

“Cut me some slack, baby,” Remus shrugged with a little smile. “Nineteen year olds don’t usually drink a lot of whiskey.”

He was sure he’d made a mistake when something flashed across Janus’ face but the wrinkle in his brow soon smoothed and he drank the last of the bottle before dropping it in the grass.

“That’s littering,” he smiled.

“Mm-hm,” Janus hummed back and stopped walking. He drew Remus close and nuzzled against his neck. “Add to that public drunken disorderly conduct, supplying alcohol to a minor…” He nipped at the soft flesh just above his collar bone. “Wanna add public lewdness?”

“Be gay, do crimes?” Remus chuckled, scanning the Quad over Janus’ shoulder. Raindrops splattered against the grass. It was light for now, but… “How about we go somewhere warmer?” he whispered, slowly pulling away. He searched the other man’s eyes. His gaze was fuzzy, not focusing on any one spot for long. No matter what they did, he needed to get Janus indoors.

Janus nodded. “Lead the way, Remus Caesar,” he bowed, leaning heaving against Remus’ side as he straightened.

“It’s Prince, actually,” he chuckled. “Just through here,” Remus whispered, pointing to the far side of the science building and pushing away the unease in the pit of his stomach. He slipped his arm free and crouched down in front of a dark window at ground level. Grinning up at Janus, he turned the latch and laughed as it easily spun in place.

“The lock’s been busted since at least last winter and they still haven’t fixed it.” Swinging the window open, he rolled onto his stomach and shimmied partway down. “I’ll jump down, then help you through,” he said, fresh warmth filling his chest at the surprised gleam in Janus’ eyes.

He grunted as he dropped down to the floor and fell to one knee, but quickly recovered. “Just a sec!” he called and spotted a sturdy desk to shove under the window. He clambered on top of it and whispered through the window. “Come on. It’s a short drop.”

“Isn’t the prince meant to climb the tower, not sneak through the basement?” he chuckled, crawling after him and sliding his lower half through the open window.

“Whatever works.” Remus’ hands were warm and steady on his hips as he guided him down until they stood together on top of the dusty desk. Still gripping Remus’ arm, Janus looked around at the room. Three old skeletons, each missing limbs, were gathered in one corner, the green exit light spilling through the door cast long shadows across the floor. A dozen or so rolling chalkboards were tucked in the opposite corner, and the center of the room was crowded with cracked lab benches and half-broken equipment.

“How’d y’even find this place?” Janus frowned at the slurring fuzziness in his words, but Remus didn’t seem to notice. Or care. “I’s here as an undergrad fer two years an’ never came across it.”

“Never underestimate the power of a bored Art Major,” Remus laughed, picking up what had to be a replica of a WW II gas mask. Janus leaned in to inspect it but stumbled against a lab bench. His hands flew up to steady himself but he only ended up pinning Remus against the hard marble surface as he fell into his arms.

Remus peeled off the mask and let it tumble to the table behind him. He threaded his fingers behind Janus’ neck and pulled him closer. “Hmm…” he purred near his ear, hot breath sending a shiver down Janus’ spine. “I suppose we should never underestimate the power of a thirsty law student, either.”

That damned mix of softness and heat swirled in his eyes as he looked up at him. Eyes squeezed shut, Janus curled over him and sucked hard just under his jaw. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he growled and pushed back just enough to let him up before hitching himself up onto the lab bench. 

Janus slid back and watched Remus strip off his shirt. His chest was littered with mostly faded hickies and nicks and marks. He held his left arm close to his belly, but Janus caught a flash of scars running up and down his inner forearm as he worked open the top buttons of his jeans.

“No.” Janus shook his head and leaned forward to trace the faint marks on his chest. He smiled as he dragged both hands down his bare skin until he reached Remus’ hips. “C’mere,” he slurred and tugged him closer.

“One mark’s not enough for you?” Grinning, Remus climbed up and straddled his lap.

“Is ‘t fer you?”

Remus was eager and warm in his arms and every little gasp he let out sent shivers up and down Janus’ spine. The kisses he gave in return were tender, softly mouthing along Janus’ jaw and below his ear, sweet whispers of his name. 

The heavy scent of spring magnolias filled his lungs tears pricked the corners of his eyes. It had been so long since he’d felt this, this soft passion, the warmth and gentle kisses. “Tell me what you want,” Janus murmured after leaving a particularly dark mark on his chest.

“I want you,” he whispered. Gripping his shoulders, he ground down hard against him. “How about you catch up and get rid of some of your clothes, Jannie?”

Dizzy from the whiskey, Janus nodded but pulled him closer. He didn’t want to let go. “Anything you want, Gabe…”

“I’m not Gabe .” Remus pulled back, a tremble in his chin even as he glared. “I’m me . And if your Gabe’s so great, why isn’t he here grinding up against you instead of me?”

Stunned, Janus blinked at him, vision blurred in the darkened room as reality crashed down on him. A chilly breeze blew in through the open window, kicking up the scent of fallen leaves and a hint of woodsmoke from the line of houses next to campus. Sniffling, Remus climbed off his lap and picked up his discarded shirt. “I’m no replacement. Go find your fucking Gabe. Tell him I said ‘you’re welcome’ for warming you up for him.”

“Gabe’s gone,” Janus shot back, the lingering buzz stripping away his filter. “He’s in the fucking ground. He’s jus’… gone,” he muttered and then slid off the lab bench, swaying as he struggled to regain his footing.

“Shit, Jan, wait—” Remus grabbed his wrist, barely Janus’ sloppy roundhouse. But he didn’t let go.

“Wai’ what?” he shouted. Yanking his arm back only succeeded in pulling him closer.

“I didn’t know,” Remus said with a softness Janus couldn’t understand. “I’m sorry.” He traced calloused fingers over his cheek, leaving a wet trail across his skin.

Janus’ knees wobbled as his adrenaline fizzled away and he dropped down to the floor. He hung his head and watched the tears sprinkle against the hands—his and Remus’—in his lap. When had he started crying? 

“I didn’t know,” Remus whispered again after he knelt next to him. His free hand reached out and gently turned Janus’ head until he faced him.

He stared back at him and Janus trembled as he fought to pull his mask back on, but Remus wouldn’t release his gaze, bright green eyes demanding his attention, his story.

“No-one knows,” he whispered, words spilling out before he could stop them. “Not here at least…” A sob threatened to push up from the back of his throat and he clamped his teeth down on his lip. Remus brushed a thumb over his mouth, the unexpected tenderness unclenching his jaw. “It was… I los’ Gabe back home…” 

Tears chased his words and Remus pulled him close, cooing softly. He buried his face against Remus’ neck and cried.

~~~

“I sh… I should head home…” Janus didn’t want to let go, but his eyelids were heavy and swollen from crying, his head stuffed with cotton. He was miles from his earlier giddiness, but hours from sober and it was a long walk home.

”Oh, Jannie, you’re all the way down Broadway,” Remus drew him close again. He still hadn’t put on his shirt, but Janus had a hard time minding the warm, bare skin under his palms. “That's too far to walk.. how about you crash at my dorm. I’m just across the quad.”

“I… I can’…” Janus shook his head but couldn’t make himself pull away. “I need t’ sleep this off,” he finally managed.

“I’m not trying to fuck you,” Remus muttered, squeezing the arm crossed over his back. “Not anymore, at least,” he added with a little eyebrow waggle, but his face quickly shifted back to that soft, concerned look. Janus stared back at him, confounded and… comforted by the rapid change. “I just want you to be safe.”

“Why?” Remus frowned at his question and started to look away, but Janus cradled his jaw and turned his head back. “I mean… Why care about me? It’s not your fault I’m drunk and…” And called you another man’s name…

Remus shrugged. “I guess…” He rubbed his cheek against Janus’ palm, a soft, catlike gesture. “I guess anyone who cared enough about someone to mourn them… Needs some care,” he finally smiled.

The room spun around them and Janus’ head wobbled, a little nod. Rising slowly, Remus lifted him to his feet and pointed at the door. “It’s only locked from the outside.” He curled an arm around his waist again, a similar pose to how they’d walked here from Jack’s party. “Ready?” he asked, then pushed through the door.

The rain grew heavier as they walked and by the time they’d reached the dorm, they were soaked.

“Shhh… my brother’s asleep,” he whispered when he poked his head through the door. Stifling a curse, Remus stubbed his toe on Ro’s chair as he moved around in the dark, looking for clean-ish towels. He gave Janus the softer one. “Not to be all ‘you should get out of those wet clothes,’ but…” he whispered, peeling off his shirt. “You should get out of those wet clothes.”

Nodding, Janus fumbled with the buttons on his shirt before stepping back and almost falling against the wall. “Shit,” Remus hissed, looking over his shoulder. Ro had his headphones on, probably listening to his textbooks. “Lemme help you, Jannie,” he whispered and quickly undid his buttons and pulled off the sopping shirt. 

Working together, they undressed in the dark, towels wrapped around their waists. “Last week was laundry day,” Remus shrugged as he peeled back the blankets, grateful Janus seemed too out of it to even notice. He’d never actually had anyone in their room before and he was kinda disgusted with himself. 

“Thank you, ‘mus,” Janus muttered as he climbed into the bed. Remus started to cover him, he could sleep in the bean bag nest by his desk. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep there. “Wai—” Despite his stupor, Janus’ hand snaked out from the blankets and gripped his wrist. “Please, stay?” He looked up through half-lidded eyes. “I won’—” Janus’ head lolled against the pillow but he didn’t let go.

“Okay,” Remus finally nodded and curled around him. Janus was almost completely out by the time he’d covered them both with the blanket, moving just enough to nuzzled against him.

“‘Nigh’ ‘mus…” he muttered, one arm draped over his waist.

“Good night, Jan…” Remus rubbed his cheek against his hair. Even through the sour stench of the whiskey, his hair smelled like mint and earl grey tea. Scrunched together in the bed, their towels had loosened, leaving Remus very aware of how vulnerable he was in this virtual—and drunken—stranger’s arms. He didn’t even know his last name. 

Everything about this was wrong. So why did it feel so right?

“Sleep well,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss into his hair and drifted off to sleep.

~~~

Roman stretched and sat up at the insistent beep of his alarm. It had rained in the night and Re’s hamper smelled… wet. Raising an eyebrow at his brother’s sleeping form, he sighed. At least he came home last night. Roman had considered waiting up for him, but the last time he’d done that, Re had just laughed at his overprotectiveness. And frankly, with an audition right after his morning shift, he couldn’t afford the missed sleep today.

He got up and clicked off his alarm before stripping off his pajamas and grabbing his day’s outfit and a robe, thanking the universe for the small miracle of separate closets.

“So you really are identical,” a man mumbled in a low growl, golden blond hair and  two sharp eyes just barely peering out from under Remus’ comforter.

“Jesus Christ Superstar!” Roman’s face burned and he pressed his folded clothes against his groin. Re’s head soon poked out from under the covers, as well. “Dammit, Re! Warn a dude next time you bring someone home!”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, Ro Bro. I got lucky last night.” He winked at his boyfriend and the man snorted. “You were asleep when we got in. Didn’t want to wake you.” Remus propped himself up on one elbow and yawned. “Ro, this is Janus. Janus, meet my brother Roman.”

“Janice?” He began to smirk.

Remus pulled a scowling Janus closer to him, laying across his chest. “Hey, Ro, you’re peeking.” Roman looked down and tried to adjust the bundle of clothes to better cover himself. He fumbled his way backwards to the closet and pushed his arms through the sleeves of his robe and tied it tight around his waist.

Collecting his shower caddy and a fresh set of clothes, he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a half an hour. Please be dressed when I do.” He let the door slam behind him.

Remus waggled his eyebrows at Janus. “Half an hour, huh? That’s enough time to pick up where we left off, if you’re… up for it?” He shifted under the covers, and his grin grew when his hands brushed a little lower against Janus’ hip.

“I, um…” Janus’ breath caught in his throat, still not quite over the way Remus had curled over him so protectively, slashing back at his brother at even a hinted mock of his name. “I have a class…”

“So do I…” The hunger in his smile softened as he looked back at Janus, warmth and longing in his eyes. One hand drawn through his hair, he brushed tender kisses along his jaw. “But wouldn’t you rather stay here with me?”

Pulling back, he nuzzled against the warm, rough hand now at his cheek, and his gaze trailed up from the love bites he’d left on Remus’ chest and neck to the stubble sprouting across his jaw and upper lip. His full mouth curved up in an impossibly shy smile, like he feared Janus might just push him away. Finally, Janus met his eyes, sparkling green with flecks of gold even in the thin streams of light spilling from the edges of the drawn blinds.

Janus smiled. No, he’s not Gabe. He’s Remus. And he’s wonderful.

He pulled Remus closer and fell into their kiss.

---

The story continues in

[amateurmasksmith]

Astronomy - WIP

"Despite what the Internet might speculate, Logan doesn't actually know much about Astronomy."

Author's note: Originally for @loceitweek, but I ran out of steam before I could finish. If anyone wants to continue this, please do! (and @ me so I can see!)

Summary: Logan isn't just Logic. He's also Curiosity, but recent events have led him to stop acknowledging that part of his role - Except when he's alone in his dreamspace. So, what happens when a certain Side confronts him in the one space he allows himself to simply "be?"

Warning: This is INCOMPLETE, and cuts off very abruptly.

Despite what the Internet might speculate, Logan doesn't actually know much about Astronomy.

That's precisely why he was so fascinated by it - Aptly nicknamed the "Final Frontier," space and its contents are so vast and uncharted as to provide an endless fuel for Logan's curiosity.

Logan doesn't know much about Astronomy - Not for lack of trying, mind you.

He once suggested that Thomas major in Astronomy, but Thomas was more interested in Chemistry. That was a perfectly suitable career choice, as far as Logan could tell.

Astronomy could remain a hobby. A passing interest.

He later suggested that Thomas consider taking an introductory course in Astronomy - It was considered, but… nothing came of it. Thomas was busy with more important things, Logan understood.

In spare moments, he would ask Thomas to look up videos about the Solar System and beyond. And, occasionally, Thomas would - Tilting his laptop so they both could see as they watched.

Together.

But, as time went on, Thomas lost even this mild interest in the stars.

And Logan was left to stargaze alone, in his own dreamspace, carved out from a portion of the metaphysical space his room takes up.

Alone on a high mountain plateau, with nothing but a telescope, a chair, his (prized) notebook, and the mostly-empty sky.

Mostly-empty, due to his incomplete knowledge. Sure, he could just wave his hand and scatter a random assortment of lights across the sky - It was his dreamspace, after all.

But, that wouldn't be accurate. That wouldn't be right.

It wasn't accurate, now, but at least it was his. His dreamspace. His dream. And his alone.

Sometimes, that was enough. When the others were being too… extra, it was good to have a place of solitude. And since the others couldn't just appear in his dreamspace unbeckoned, this was truly a place where Logan could simply… be.

No pressure to enforce unenforceable schedules. No reminders of the "otherness" of his function.

Nothing for anyone else. Just him, and him alone.

So, then, why was someone else here?

In his room?

In HIS dreamspace?!

"Janus," he said curtly after appearing in (what was supposed to be) his dreamspace. The caplet-clad side didn't move from HIS chair, looking through HIS telescope, holding HIS notebook.

"Oh, good evening, Logan," Janus drawled, "lovely weather for stargazing, isn't it?"

(of course it is, I designed this entire area!) Logan stared for a moment, trying to decide what to say.

Curiosity got the better of him. "How are you here? This was supposed to be my dreamspace."

"It's a bit odd, isn't it?"

"…Which is why I was asking-"

"The sky usually has more stars, doesn't it?"

Logan bristled at the question, but didn't bother answering. Janus finally turned away from the telescope's eyepiece, and oh-so-calculatedly-casually turned in the chair to face Logan.

(you know this - why are you asking me?) And stared, waiting for a response. "Yes," Logan replied, "in reality, it does."

"Why? Or, rather," Janus corrected, "why does your sky have so few?"

(why do you care? what are you planning?) "Because I am taking the time to ensure their accurate placement," Logan replied - truthfully, but not accurately. "Now, did you need something?" he asked, reaching to take back the notebook (HIS notebook).

Janus pulled it back, just out of reach, smirking. "Falsehood. According to your notebook," he gestured with it, "You haven't placed a new constellation in…" he flipped through many blank pages before finding the most recent entry and sighing, "Quite some time now."

[itsatechreel]

Corrupt Clues (A Sanders Sides x Blue’s Clues AU)

Last night I, inspired by a friend, decided to do something random I never have before and invent an AU (alternate universe) mixing two of my favorite series, Sanders Sides & Blue’s Clues 🐾

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Brief Summary: With stress reaching an all time high, Thomas gets Roman’s help in order to transform his daily life and the Sides themselves to fit the format of a comfort show from his childhood: Blue’s Clues. Is this a good idea? Is every side on board and comfortable with these changes? Will Thomas ever allow this to stop?

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It’s a silly AU, but I’m weirdly very happy with it, and if nothing else it was a very fun writing excercise 😅 And if you read through it and decide you want to make something based on it, then go for it! Whether it’s fanart or a short story/full fanfic or any other piece of media based on this AU, I’d love to see it! All I ask is to be credited and also tagged so I could see any creations 💙

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👇 Click through to read more specific details about this AU 👇

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Lately, the stress has been hitting Thomas more so than ever. Days are long, motivation is low, anxiety is high, etc. One day Thomas decided he’s had enough and something needs to change. He goes to Roman, begging him to provide some fun and fantastical change to his routine, something that can distract him from the darkness of the world. Roman thinks about this and devises a plan, and the next day Thomas’ life is transformed to fit that of a show he once found great comfort in: Blue’s Clues. All the sides awake that morning to find that their forms (with one exception) have been changed to fit this new vision.

🌈 Thomas takes on the role of Steve/Joe/Josh. He can now spend his days doing little else but singing and dancing, drawing, playing games, eating snacks, and helping his friends with very simple tasks. And of course now he can enjoy the stress-free activity of playing Blue’s Clues with his own version of Blue. He’s absolutely ecstatic about the changes that Roman brought on, ready to fully indulge in a seemingly ideal yet childish life of acting out his days as extended episodes of the show.

💙 Patton finds himself as Blue, and is very happy about it. He’s still able to talk as normal despite the new puppy form, but Thomas tends to prefer he barks like Blue to keep up the illusion (which Patton often forgets and is corrected on regularly). Games of Blue’s Clues are started up a few times a day, at least one time each day dedicated to wanting some form of cookie. There’s never a doubt in his mind that this is the best thing for Thomas, although that could just be because he’s having too good a time to see any potential issues.

👓 Logan is forced into the role of the child audience of the show, mainly due to Roman expecting that he wouldn’t participate at all if he was made to look silly. He decides to participate as, even though he knows Thomas hiding from his issues may prove to be worse for his mental health, he figures he won’t be listened to if he protests. Hoping in time that Thomas will realize the errors of this decision, he reluctantly follows Thomas in his adventures. He consistently questions the illogical nature of Thomas asking such simple questions he would normally know the answers to, or where clues are that he should plainly see, and even the notion that Patton leaves clues at all when he could simply tell Thomas what he wants. It’s all very confusing and very patronizing to Logan, but he does his best to indulge Thomas, for now.

🛡️ Roman decides to make himself the fabulous Rainbow Puppy, as he feels it’s the only character that could truly embody all that he is. A character that constantly sings and performs is a perfect fit for him and he fully plays the part (which truly isn’t much different from how he existed before this change). He occasionally finds himself jealous and wishing to switch roles with Patton, as Blue is a more important character to this new daily narrative by far, but he does his best to let Patton keep his well-fitting role. He, like both Thomas and Patton, see absolutely no issue with this new way of existing. Roman is plenty content to keep it going as long as Thomas desires.

🌩️ Virgil has been cast as Tickety, given that Roman felt that someone who experiences a great deal of alarm should be the alarm clock. He’s definitely one of the least interested in this new way of life, less regarding how it avoids the real issues and more because he doesn’t fit the kids show vibe. He hates being a small silly clock, the constant sound of ticking coming from his own face, and the fact that he can’t get too anxious without setting off his loud bells that manage to scare himself every time. On the other hand though, he recognizes that life was very stressful and while being a clock is obnoxious it is a bit easier. There's a lot of bouncing back and forth between whether this is worth it to avoid the stresses of reality, or if Thomas and the others are slowly losing their sanity as they continue to pretend like this life can be the new normal. Virgil’s anxiety is everywhere as he reluctantly plays along, which is rough for him but definitely provides Thomas’ morning alarm bells quite well.

🗑️ When it came to the Dark Sides, Roman decided they needed to be as harmless and out of the way as possible, starting with Remus being nothing more than a snail (the classic pink snail seen 3 times in every episode). But to Roman’s dismay, Remus doesn’t mind this one bit, he’d much rather be a slimy slithery creature than any cute animal or appliance. True Remus can’t be as effective as normal, but once in a while he’ll cross paths with Thomas and others as they engage in their various activities, always ready to mess with them quickly before they go about their business.

🐍 Last, but certainly not least, Janus was sentenced to the Felt Frame as a Felt Friend. Though he may be stuck in there for the time being, he manages to make images to fill out the frame in order to grab Thomas’ attention and remind him of what he’s avoiding. Janus knows that Thomas is lying to himself, pretending that he can live forever in this childish charade, like the world around him doesn’t matter and his problems will just disappear. He’s limited in what he can do, but he does his best to try to get through to Thomas.

And this is how life is for Thomas now. Days fueled by Roman’s powers of creativity, the Dark Sides shoved out of view as much as possible, Virgil constantly between wanting it to continue and wanting it to end, songs and games of Blue’s Clues with Patton as Blue, and Logan being treated as a captive audience who grows ever closer to joining forces with Janus to get through to Thomas. This can’t go on forever, but will Thomas allow it to stop? Can anyone get through to him? 👀

[ak357]

Checkmate

As Logan opened the door to his office he can't help think back on what brought them here.

-------------It was a day like any other when he met him.---------------

Logan had a routine, he woke up at precisely 7:00 and put on his glasses got dressed in a black polo shirt with a pair of jeans with a black belt and a blue tie. And went down to make breakfast and say goodbye to his mom who's going to work. After eating breakfast and cleaning up he went to the bus with his backpack. He went to sit the same seat he always sat the second last row to the left by the window. Next to him sat James reading a book about flora and fauna. And they chat idle for a bit.

When he arrived at school everything seemed normal until he went to his seat only to find a boy sitting there. "Excuse me, you appear to be sitting in my seat. "The boy turned around to look at him with his hazel and brown eyes looking at Logan. "There is no assigned seating and I quite like this one." As the teacher walks in Logan huffs and sits next to him. "Everyone I have an announcement to make we have a new student, Janus Serpentine please welcome him with the same respect you would give to your other peers, Janus you can come up here and tell a bit about yourself." Janus stood up and went to the front of the class. "Hello I just moved here from Catania, Italy. I like snakes and reading. I used to be apart of the debate club at my old school and I didn't like moving to a different country"

"Okay why don't you sit back down and we can find you someone to show you around school." Janus sat back down next to Logan. "Logan why don't you give Janus a tour of the school." Logan sighed and stood up and went to stand by the door, "are you coming?" Janus stood up to follow. Logan and Janus spent most of the tour talking about whether or not the school system is a good thing the tour lasted until lunch. Janus ended up joining Logan & James for lunch. "Who's this, Lo?", asked James. "This is Janus Serpentine he is in my homeroom, and will be in my English, geography and PE this year." James nodded. They spent the rest of the day together.

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Logan sighed as he went to sit at his desk. He began pulling out paperwork as Thomas came in. "I brought those case files you wanted, sir" Logan looked up at Thomas. "Thank you, Thomas. Did you interview Miss Havenwoods?" Logan said while he sorted out the paper work. "Yes sir, but she refused to talk to me" Thomas said a bit ashamed. "Did she mention why?" Logan said looking back up. "Yes she said she already lost one son she didn't want to lose another." Logan's brow furrowed as he puts the paperwork down "Dammit she was our only lead to taking down the mafia" Logan groaned in frustration. "Thomas, I need some time alone to think about our next step." Thomas nodded and left through the door.

Logan stood up and went to his file cabinet and began pulling out several files. He went to sit back down and started looking through the files.

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"School is so annoying!!!" yelled Jessica as the librarian shushed her. "Why are you complaining your always in the top 5 without trying" James said as he rolled his eyes. "Well just because I am naturally smart doesn't mean I don't have to love school!!! Janus back me up" Janus looks up from his book. "Yes of course I would love to be included in this childish debate, instead of doing this project that's worth 50% of our grade" Jessica lightly pushes Janus causing him to huff dramatically. "Since when do you care I'm pretty sure you cheated on the exam last semester." Janus playfully shoved back "Oh, how sure are you?" Jessica rolled her eyes. "Like 90% sure" Janus mockingly squinted his eyes at her. "Really how sure are you?" Jessica laughs "Okay 75%, but I know you didn't study, so you must've cheated" Janus smirked "Not in any way you can prove" Jessica shoved Janus again while he's laughing...

"Hey, Logan, you spaced out, are you okay?" Janus asked giving a gentle tap on Logan shoulder. Logan suddenly looked at Janus startled. "Yea..ye..es yes of course, just thinking." Janus hummed "About what, do tell me." Logan avoided Janus's gaze instead looking at the wall. "I'm merely thinking about the project." Janus narrowed his eyes "Well-" Whatever he was about to say got interrupted by James and Jessica bickering. As librarian came over to shush them. "So are we doing this project or not." Janus turned his attention back to James. "Yes, if the both of you can stop bickering." They spent rest of the time doing the project.

As Logan packed up his school bag, Janus suddenly grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the library and into a broom closet. "Is there a reason for you to drag me in here?" Janus rolled his eyes "You lied back there, what were you thinking?" Logan tried to look anywhere but his friends eyes. "You know we care about you, we'll always be there for you no matter what and you can tell me what's wrong I'll help even if it means thrashing the principle car" Logan snorted "What we both know he deserved it, he had no prove that Jessica cheated" Logan smiled and shook his head then looked back up towards Janus.

"I...my mother...our home was trashed..."Janus looks surprised. "And we've been starting to get death threats about money....I confronted my mom about these and she....she then admitted to borrowing money from the mob." As tears started showing in Logan's eyes. "How....how much does she owe...?"Logan shakes his head. "She still owes them 5000.She said she needed the money for grandma's surgery...I don't know what to do we don't have the money to pay it back..." Logan breathing turned rapid. "Logan look at me, everything is going to be fine, take a deep breathe for 4 seconds." Logan breathed in. "1...2...3...and 4, your doing good. Now hold for 7, and now breathe out in 8."Logan breathed out. They repeated this a few times until Logan clamed down. "Now listen everything is going to be okay. I'm going to help you with the money."

Logan shook his head. "I couldn't possibly take that much money from you...I'm not sure if we can even pay it back." Janus placed his hands on Logan shoulders. "You don't have to pay it back..." Logan looked shocked. "Bu...but...you don't have to do that.." Janus smiled "Logan you're dear friend to me and I know you can't pay for it." Logan smiled at Janus. "Thank you..."

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The traffic light finally turned green. Logan drove his car forward and towards the first crime scene. He turned on the radio to help calm his nerves in the middle of a song a call interrupted .Logan answered the call. "Logan we've might have found a lead on who's the mafia's boss" said Thomas on the other side. Logan turned his car around to go toward his office. Thomas was already waiting in his office, when Logan enter it. "Hello sir." Logan nodded towards Thomas. "Who's the suspect?" Logan said when Thomas handed the file to him. "Janus Serpentine" Logan dropped the file in shock. "I'm sorry... I didn't think I heard you right..." Thomas looked shocked "I.. said Janus Serpentine"

Logan remembers crying in Janus bedroom. He remembers Janus voice saying "It's gonna be okay Logan... Maybe I can get my parents to take you in." He remembers looking up to Janus in a sort of disbelief mixed with suspicion. Janus nodded knowingly "Do you want to talk about it" as he wiped the tears from Logan's eyes "What should I talk about that this is probably the last time we see each other or that I have to move to a different country with an aunt that I barely know or maybe the fact my mother died" Janus hugged Logan "it's okay one day you'll figure out what to do, whether that is to avenge her or honor her wishes that'll be up to you, but until then you just need to try healing." Logan remembers that was the last time he saw Janus.

Logan didn't want to believe it, the first few weeks of investigating was a blur to him, but after the first few weeks his emotions began to clear up from anger, confusion and sadness to determination. After months of investigating more and more evidence came to light each one more incriminating than the last until finally there was enough evidence to arrest Janus Serpentine, most of which is circumstantial

It had felt like a long drive to Janus mansion. Logan never wanted to believe it but there was too much evidence supporting it. And besides looking back it made sense, after all Janus never told anyone what his parents did for a living that made that much money. It explained the strange men that visited his house and the strange look in his eyes whenever there's a mafia related death, how he had known how Logan's mother had died without being told and without it being in the papers first. Why the cop looked the other way the only time he had convinced Logan to skip a class and they went to an abandoned library that was being remodeled. "We're here!" a loud voice knocked Logan out of his thoughts.

"Thomas stay in the car if I'm not out in our agreed time call for backup" Logon told Thomas as he was getting out the car. "Shouldn't I go with you, we're not allowed to go in alone" Logan shook his head. "I'll be fine, I need to do this alone" Logan closed the door and began walking towards the mansion gates. Logan pressed the intercom's button, it buzzed and a gruff voice answered "Who's there, and could you state your business with Mr. Serpentine?" Logan responded "Could you inform him that Logan Berry is looking for him."

After a few minutes there was a buzzing noise and then the gate opened. Logan steeled himself and walked in and towards the mansion front door. It open as Logan reached for the door a tall bald muscled man in a black suit greeted him. "Follow me" the man in the black suit quickly turned around and begun walking, Logan followed him. After a while they reached a large ornate door. The man in the black suit knocked on the "he's here" he walked away as the door opened. Logan walked in and was greeted by a tall blonde man with burn marks on half of his face, his were amber and brown, he smiled to Logan. "It's been a long time we last saw each other, would you like some tea?"

"Your apart of the mafia..." Janus smiled weakly as he poured a cup of tea for Logan. "Why don't you sit down" Logan hesitantly shook his head "No I won't I am here to do my job" Janus cocked his eyebrow "Really than why did you come here without a partner or backup" Logan narrowed his eyes. "Why didn't you stop them" Janus seamed surprised by the sudden question. "I'm sorry but your mother was barely able to pay the first debt I couldn't get my parent to agree me paying off her debt a second time, besides I think they knew she couldn't pay them off, I belief that they just wanted to use her as an example." Janus said expressionless. "Why didn't you call the police" Logan said in anger. "I couldn't betray my family like that, no matter who had to get hurt."

Logan hand clenched into a fist. But he took a deep breath to calm down. "Janus you and both know you're guilty so it would be beneficiary if you'll confess and turn yourself." Janus studently angerly stood up "YOU DARE, come in my home after we haven't spoken in years and accused me on circumstantial evidence, and you and I both know you'll never find enough evidence to even get a warrant so, if you so please leave my home before I'll have your fiancé sleeping with the fishes, as they say." Logan looked shocked "How..." Janus rolled his eyes "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you poking around" Logan's face morphed into one of anger "You have no right to threaten him, or-" "Or what are you going to be doing, nothing, so I suggest you skip town before you end up just like your mother." Deep seething anger boiled in Logan's chest, so much that he pulled his pistol from his jacket and year of determination of looking for a way to bring his mother killer to justice, years of being lied to and unanswered questions, months of dead ends and false herrings and a decade of pent up emotions fueled his actions, as he aimed his gun towards Janus and then-"

"Bang"