#janus-centric

[tssidesfics]

Mirror, Mirror, Scatter Me (Janus' Requiem)

This idea has been percolating for a while. I watch compilations of Sanders' Sides cosplays and I saw a really awesome video by @salem_orchid on Tiktok. I do not watch Tiktok on that accursed app. You could never pay me enough to go on that cursed app. So have the link directly to the video in the compilation I found it in. https://youtu.be/zfcY0lYix7I?t=42 (Sound from "Echo" English Cover by Jubphonic)

This is set in what is effectively an AU of the A Story of a Soul in All Its Stripes series, where the events of Morality Is Grey happened and basically nothing else because I wrote a hundred thousand words on the gradual degradation of Virgil's relationship with Janus and I cannot not be loyal to that interpretation. What am I gonna do? Write another slow-burn platonic dissolution of affection and trust? I'm busy. It is very angsty.

*

Janus is not woeful. Despite the void in his chest beside a porcupine heart of mirror shards, he does not grieve. He is a mastermind. He is whole despite the parts of him Virgil fled with without remorse. He is defiant and strong and he does not grieve. Grief is weak. He does not grieve.

Never mind how he clutches a hoodie that is not his to his chest and weeps.

Infiltration was slow, calculated, and scorched with wrong turns. Relying on Virgil to leave the door open for them had gone to shit, something Janus should have predicted--a coward cannot be trusted to remain loyal--and it had taken weeks before Janus found a new pathway, stumbled upon by accident. Behind a mask, Janus found himself in the glaring light of knownness, and from that place weaved a new plan: strategic, gradual capitalization, exploitation, and manipulation paving the road, a cobblestone at a time, for the others to claim their place among the bastards that had thrust them into twilight so long ago.

For so long, that had been his one goal. His only objective. Convince Thomas that he could not divide himself by arbitrary lines of right and wrong, reprogram the years of Catholic brainwashing, and build thrones for the others where traitors dwelt.

And in the end, he had succeeded. Now came the aftermath. It should have brought peace, relief.

But there is still a void beside a porcupine heart, mirror shards endlessly reflecting the faces of those around him. Janus' soul is a fun-house of mirrors without the fun, each Side distorting through them, just a piece at a time, copying over and shifting, reflecting over on itself ad infinitum. It had been an advantage for a long time.

Now it was a haunting.

"When are you going to drop the mysterious act?" Roman asked during breakfast one day, lacking tact but not friendliness. A loathsome sentiment to regard Janus with. "You won. We're all fine with you now. Let people actually get to know you."

Janus arched an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, elicited this?"

Roman shrugged. "Nobody knows you. I mean, obviously Patton, Logan and I aren't running around hiding anything about ourselves. Virgil stopped being brooding and mysterious ages ago and now he's just brooding."

"I am not a YA love interest. All I am is tired of your bullshit."

"Nah, Logan claims that one."

"I am willing to share with Virgil. You are all exhausting."

"Shut up, Pocket Protector."

"It pleases me to notice that while you seem endlessly capable of creating new nicknames for Virgil, I remain so impossible for you to intelligently insult that you reuse the same tired nicknames every conversation we share."

Roman glared at him. "I will misspell every word in your filing system."

"Attempt it and you will cease to be an annoyance entirely."

"Kids..." Patton chided. "Play nice."

Roman and Logan both emphatically rolled their eyes, returning to their breakfasts--Roman, a heaping pile of pancakes marinating in butter and syrup; Logan, eggs and ham.

Janus allowed the conversation to derail without interjection from him, knowing such a thing would only redirect attention back to the original recipient. What Roman asked was simple enough. Janus had no more need to hide. Their place at Thomas' side was assured now.

But to be honest about himself with others required that he know something to be honest with.

Janus is not a stupid Side. He is among the best educated of them, bested only by Logan who he believes has never spent a single moment entertaining self-care or downtime, rather intent on burying himself seventeen feet deep in work. He understands philosophy well. He can argue it for hours and he will win most arguments he initiates on the subject, including with Logan (though Logan maintains an imbecilic distaste for the whole concept). He concocted multiple plans that inevitably paved the way for a more complete Thomas. He was not an idiot.

But that said nothing about his sense of his self, his identity.

He can name things affiliated with him. Deception, self-care, selfishness. A shapeshifter, duplicitous. Untrustworthy, manipulative. He maintains pride for those things (although as time reaches ever-forward certain traits among that list tint a darker and darker grey, some days appearing almost black). But associations, correlations are not definitions.

A lack of definition was easily used to one's advantage. When you lacked a cohesive sense of yourself, it was easy to slip into whatever skin best suited your objective. While not all faces were made equal and not all souls were easily emulated, nonetheless such adaptability, when it had brought them so much, Janus refused to slander.

For years Janus had gone without any name, dubbed only by a color that now drenches him in acid every time someone dares spite him with it. Something Virgil does frequently, having not yet forgiven Janus for the slights he'd imagined committed against him in their time as allies. Janus tires of it and such instances always escalate into impassioned, vitriolic arguments where no weakness is left unexploited. Every foul piece of laundry hung out to poison the air, every bystander horrified to shock.

"You've never been anything but whatever you needed to be to get what you wanted, Janus," Virgil spits. "You can't trust something that can't even decide what the hell it is long enough to give you an honest fucking answer."

Janus stares at him. The shards buried all around his heart reflect Virgil's hateful glare and plunge deeper. Without a word, Janus sinks out.

Within minutes there's a knock at his door. Janus stands in his bathroom, staring into the mirror, straight into it, which he never does. Even glimpsing it sends shards barreling toward him, but now he's standing at its mercy. There's no room left for the shards. Some are falling out to make room, others are making themselves at home past the external wall, deep into the inner valves. His heart tries to pump around them but fails. Janus' eyes burn, unblinking while dams hold back moisture.

"Janus?" Patton calls inside. "I'm...sorry about Virgil." He sounds like he usually does after such arguments: like he feels drawn to take a side but can't decide whose. "What he said was really mean. You said some mean things too, but obviously what he said really hurt you, so...do you want to talk about it?"

Janus opens his mouth to call back to him and his throat snaps closed. No sound escapes. He strains to push out air and fails, gripping his throat.

After a moment of struggling to no avail, Patton takes his silence as an answer. "Okay," he says. "We're here if you need anything. Virgil went back to his room, so the commons are open."

Janus hangs his head and his hands fall limp to grip the sink. He notices then that his hands not only lack their gloves but are decidedly paler than his natural, if faint, tan. Moreover, they are both human, no scales to be seen blemishing either. He frowns and lifts his eyes to the mirror, jolting.

Virgil's purple and brown eyes stare back at him.

Alarmed, Janus gropes his face. When did he shift? Why? It wasn't intentional. It was usually intentional, except for--times when he was emotionally compromised.

Shit. He willed himself back to his typical visage. It had no effect. He tried again. Still no effect. Worse yet, instead he shifted to look like Roman instead. Another attempt brought force Remus' visage, then Logan's and Patton's and back to Virgil and Rage's and endlessly he cycled through until it was happening at dizzying speeds.

Janus couldn't breathe. He had no control. It hurt, shifting so many times, over and over again, body warping, shifting, hunching, lengthening, shortening. He couldn't scream. He wouldn't call for help regardless. He wouldn't debase himself like that. Despite his pain and fear, he would never stoop so low.

Janus sinks to the floor, gripping his hair as it endlessly shifts in length and color. Finally his eyes moisten, weeping never mind the face he wears. He's exhausted, but while he continues to shift he can't sleep. He prays for mercy, knowing it won't come. He doesn't know how he'll help Thomas like this.

He doesn't suppose it matters. Thomas has united the discordant parts of himself. Janus' purpose has been fulfilled. There is no further need for a monster.

Hands grip his wrists. Janus lashes out but is easily restrained, gaze settling on Virgil. Janus stares.

Virgil's face is moist and streaky. He doesn't look hateful for once. He looks...regretful.

"Focus on your name," he tells him. "Just your name. Why you picked it. Focus on that."

Janus doesn't understand, but out of ideas, he obeys. He remembers searching for one, the never-ending frustration until he stumbled across the name for the two-faced god of choices. He is an existentialist, so it was fitting, especially his visage being what it was. As he always guarded the doorway to the forsaken, it couldn't fit much better.

The horrifying switching ends. Janus stares at his gloves, finally back on his hands.

Virgil smiles slightly and releases his wrists, resting back on the tile floor rather than crouching there. He crouches most places so he could certainly afford the strain, but Janus suspects it's his way of relaxing. Of acknowledging trust.

Janus stares.

Virgil stares back.

Janus shakes his head, searching for words. He finds none, not that he imagines they would have come if he had.

Virgil's face tangles in on itself and he averts his gaze. "I'm--" He strains for a moment. "I'm sorry. It--fuck."

Janus continues to stare.

"I know I fucked it up when I left," Virgil admits, forcing himself to look back at Janus although it seems like the eye contact hurts him. "It was a huge disgusting mess and we all said a lot of shitty things, but I'd been scared out of my mind for years. I was having constant panic attacks and it was affecting Thomas. I blamed it on all of you, but I never said shit. I didn't know how. I found out way too late after being here for long enough after a lecture from Logan that it's shitty and abusive to expect people to guess your boundaries when you won't fucking tell them what they are, but--fuck, I was hurt, and I don't deal with that well. It was a lot easier to hate you and use everything I'd ever loved about you against you and the others, especially you because you were the one who trained me to lie and I fucking hated doing that. I fucked it up. I fucked it up really badly and I should have just fucking owned up to it but I am very, very good at digging a deeper and deeper hole for myself. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like that, it was shitty. I'm sorry."

Without words, Janus can't answer.

Virgil takes that as his answer and sinks out.

*

The next day, Virgil finds a piece of paper on his desk in his room.

Mirror, mirror, scatter me. Take my shards and bury me. I'm the apparition of nightmares realized, the incarnation of your shame. I haunt myself with all my failures. All I know is my own name.

Shards of you are buried deep, a jagged shield that shreds my soul. All I've left are memories and shames of what I can't control.

I spurned you and turned my gaze when you would die for mercy shown. I chased you off with defiant pride and in that pride I lie alone.

The fault lies not with you, dear Brutus, but with the man power claimed all. I plead with you, forgive me, brother, as I am left alone to fall.

Virgil comes to sit with him in silence, and eventually, Janus reenters the world. He still does not quite know himself, but we are reflections of each other; only in being known can we define our souls.

Forgiveness is a fountain. Have your drink.

[creativitwincest]

oh now I'm super curious. who's the author who made you like remrom but doesn't write remrom?

Not going to name names because they're on tumblr and we talk and I don't particularly feel like comitting a social suicide, but if you know what my main is, it's very easy to guess

[jungle321jungle]

False Dawn: Two

For his entire life, Janus Ekans had done whatever he could to prove himself and rise in the ranks of his father’s court, but it was all worthless in the end. Now, the only path to survival is to rely on his father’s killer, Duke Logan Ackroyd, even if it means discarding his pride and blood ties. It might not be freedom, but at least it won't be his head rolling on the floor next.

~~~~

False Dawn:

Idiom: A situation that looks like it is beginning to improve when, in reality, it is not.

Read on Ao3 - All Chapters - Masterlists

The days of travel to the capital were long, to say the least. And things weren’t exactly improved by the fact that he hadn’t seen the Duke since he had demonstrated his magic. It made sense of course; the Duke had said he needed to speak with his emperor before anything else, but the passage of time had caused the seeds of doubt within Janus to grow like weeds. But it was too late to escape. 

It was more than clear to see where the border between the two nations lay. Even if the large wall and gate weren’t here, it was quite easy to determine. Because moments ago they had been paraded through a border town past all the commoners who looked on in shock, awe, and worry. Moments ago Janus had heard their chitters and felt their gazes as he kept his head hanging low. Moments ago there was so much going on, and now there was nothing. On this side of the gates, the grasses appeared dull in color, or they had withered entirely. The trees were trying and failing to sprout their leaves, and silence rang loud. As they went on into the dying forest, he couldn’t even hear a sound other than the convoy itself. No birds singing, no wind blowing, no animals scurrying. The air itself felt heavier than air ever should, and the smell of death pierced his nostrils. 

This was the curse his father had placed. 

He had only ever known a few things about the curse. First, he knew that his father had gone to war against his mother’s homeland in order to get what he needed to cast it after they had refused involvement. Second, he knew that the blood of the former kingdom of Osteria had served as a catalyst for the curse. And third, that it had crippled The Angoro Empire. He had asked questions in the past, how it managed to take down an entire nation, he had asked how people had let his father do this, and he had asked why The Empire was believed to be a threat… and yet now, seeing its effects with his own eyes, he realized he had been asking the wrong questions all along. Now he knew that it crippled them by seemingly sucking the life from any and everything. People had let his father do such a thing because they were too cowardly to stand up to a tyrant- but that was a feeling he knew well. And his father’s greed had been the reason to do this, not because they were a threat but because it was what the tyrant king had chosen to do. He knew all of these answers, but he still never asked until now what he could do to help? Before, it had just been a fact of life that The Empire was cursed. But now that meant something different, and he knew the lump of guilt in his throat meant nothing to anyone here. 

The feelings of guilt only increased the next day as they rode through the first village on this side of the border. 

They rode through slowly, but Janus couldn’t tell if it was due to the Duke choosing to parade them through or if it was due to the village’s condition. The village seemed as if it had been bathed in gray. The homes were small, and many were in different forms of disrepair. Some spots were crumbling, other homes were caved in, and some looked like they had been repaired over and over and yet still it hadn’t worked. The villagers themselves looked starved, but given the dead and empty fields they had passed, Janus supposed it made sense, but it didn’t make it any easier to see. He never knew skin could sit that close to bone, or that a person could be so skinny, or how hollow a person’s face could look. 

His siblings seemed to be thinking the same, as Janus’ youngest brother asked, “What happened to them?” 

The boy was quickly hushed, but his question went unanswered as none of them wanted to speak the truth in front of the victims. But given the silence around them- the silence in which a normal village would have shouts of joy, anger, chatter, laughter, or the sounds of various animals as opposed to this horrific silence- given the silence around them Janus could hear the words spoken in the wagon ahead of them. 

“It’s horrible,” someone had said quietly. He wasn’t sure who, but he heard the Crown Prince respond. 

“Idiot! It’s their own fault!” he spat, drawing Janus’ gaze. The Crown Prince’s clothes (much like the rest of them) were soiled and ripped, his hair was matted to his forehead and sticking up at odd angles, and despite his dirty appearance and his hands bound, he still seemed as proud as the crown askew on his head. He sat up straighter, seemingly knowing he had the attention of everyone within a mile, and looked out at the villagers with a sneer. “They were going to use their magic to destroy us. Don’t waste your pity on those who get what they deserve.”

The silence was suffocating. Janus waited a moment, and then another, and another. Waiting for someone- likely one of the knights to remove his brother’s head, but the swing of a sword never came.

The former Queen gave a slight yet still visible sigh of relief before she spoke, “You can’t say-”

 A sword swing never came- but the rock did. 

Janus only noticed it the moment before it knocked the crown off the smug man’s head. It fell to the wagon floor with a clatter, and as the blood began to fall down the crownless Crown Prince’s face, so did more rocks. All at once, they seemed to come through both sides of the bars, and yet all Janus could do was use his arms to cover his face. The silence was gone now. Now was the sound of rocks hitting skin and shouts of pain that were drowned out by the screams of anguish the villagers let out as they let the stones fly. He kept his head down and covered as he scanned his siblings in the wagon with him. The three younger ones had made their way into the middle, and the others were trying to block the stones with their bodies. Janus squeezed his eyes shut momentarily as a well-sized stone struck the center of his back, but ultimately, he scooted forward to circle them as well. And as the pelting continued and blood began to trickle from his head, his arm, and his back- he ultimately chose to undo the progress he had made as he began to undo the bonds from the three youngest children. He wouldn’t fully free them. He couldn’t go that far… but at least he could give them a chance to protect themselves. Janus’ gaze drifted behind him to the shouting and jeers, and he couldn’t help but notice a child who appeared to be on his last leg- and yet, with the little strength he had, he threw pebbles at the wagons. 

Janus closed his eyes as he looked forward once more as guilt and other emotions he had repressed seemed to bubble to the surface. He could almost laugh at himself- what had happened to his perfect mask? What had happened to his unaffected gaze? What had happened to his false confidence? He had been full of it back in the ballroom when the Duke was a hair's width away from taking his life- but here and now… Janus squeezed his eyes tightly as another stone slammed painfully into his hand, and yet he refused to let a tear shed. He had no right to do so, not here… not in this Empire. Not after all his family had done. And not after what he- what he personally had done. 

~~~~

His family kept their mouths shut throughout the next stops on their journey. The locals they passed either watched in silence or cursed in loud whispers, but no more rocks were thrown- but he didn’t doubt that some had considered it. Throughout all of it, the soldiers had paid them nor their wounds no mind, the closest thing to concern being allowing them the choice to dunk their bloodied and dirtied bodies into a river they crossed, which was a color far from blue. Upon looking at the gray and thick water, Janus instead had negotiated to use a bit of the drinking water he was allotted to wipe some of the blood from his face, to which a soldier had simply told him not to complain about it later. But thankfully, none had beat him or even shouted at him for freeing his younger siblings from their bonds, likely assuming that they were no threat. But then again Janus refused to get complacent in his assumption that this wouldn't come back to haunt him later. 

A thought that was perpetuated by the convoy’s sudden halt one afternoon and the Duke’s approach to the prison wagon. His eyes had scanned them all with disinterest before his eyes locked with Janus’ and he stepped back as his knights moved to unlock the bars. Janus was slow to climb out as his muscles ached, but the moment his feet were touching the ground the man was leading him away. Janus followed as closely as he could as the Duke led the way up the hill they had been riding beside until they were far from sight of everyone else. 

“I’ve found another use for you,” the Duke stated simply as he came to a halt. “The scout I sent ahead didn’t return. Nor did the one I sent after her. I need someone who can follow their trail and get out quickly to tell me what’s ahead. Turn into a bird that should suffice… preferably one that’s small and fast.”

Janus would never admit how much he hated the fact that he wasn’t given an option, so rather than agreeing, he asked a question. “Why do you need scouts in your own empire?”

The look the Duke gave in response screamed he was wondering if Janus’ intelligence had plummeted to a depth below zero, but he answered nonetheless. “Monsters were part of our well-deserved curse.”

Janus couldn’t hide his grimace at the man’s sarcasm, “I can’t stay in non-human forms for too long.”

“Then be quick about it.”

“But I-”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, Prince Janus.”

“I understand that,” Janus tried slowly. “But Duke-” Janus tried to hide his anger and surprise at himself as it suddenly struck him that he didn’t know who he was speaking to. He knew well that there were three dukes of the empire and one archduke underneath the crown, but of the three, he had no clue which this man was. The man wore nothing to identify his house other than the navy and black color armor he shared with his soldiers, and while Janus had spent time learning the crests of the Empire, color had never been that important. Ultimately, Janus took a deep breath, attempting to make himself appear as if he was simply considering his phrasing as opposed to being the idiot he was. “What you’re asking of me is more than I think I can do. I won’t lie and say that I’m not concerned for my own life, but also, I think there needs to be more to this plan than simply, ‘turn into a bird and go check it out.’”

The Duke paused, considering before he seemed to give a nod, “I never said there wasn’t. I was going to explain further once you transformed. The road forward is a clearly marked one, but that doesn’t mean it’s without danger. I have some chalk in a pouch. I’ll tie it to your leg and periodically, you can stop and mark a tree for us to know it’s safe up to that point. Simply come back if your mana runs out, but if there are issues and you need to run, drop the pouch near the dangerous area, and we can use that as a marker as to where the battle will take place. Does this plan suffice?”

“Y-yes, it does.”

“Then transform and get moving. We’ll follow after some time.”

Janus nodded once and began to focus on the image he held of his mind of a crow and how it looked compared to his own body, and what he had read about the animals in the past. It was a form he didn’t particularly like, but clearly, it was one which was necessary. The Duke reached down with an unaffected gaze and bent down, and Janus watched as a small sack was tied to his leg. He gave a few experimental flaps as he lifted off the ground, happy to find it didn’t weigh too much. 

If the Duke was pleased, he didn’t show it; rather, he simply gathered Janus’ grimy clothes and tucked them under his arm. “Then you should get going, Prince Janus.”

Janus gave a curt nod as he began to fly upwards out of the trees, but he nearly fell back to earth in surprise and embarrassment when the Duke spoke again. 

“Ackroyd. I am Logan, the Duke of Ackroyd,” Janus glanced back to see the man’s arms were crossed and a slight smile played on his lips. “But you knew that, of course.”

Rather than reply, Janus let out a caw as he took to the skies.

The feeling of wind in his feathers was something he always enjoyed when he took such a form. Transforming into a bird and feeling the sensation of flight was something that never failed to entice and excite, but now was not the time for the luxury of having fun. From here above the trees, there wasn’t much he could see beyond the tops of barely living trees themselves and the dirt road they were meant to follow. So, without having much choice but to do as he was asked, he glided down towards the road and began to fly above the trees beside it. He flew a slight distance and around a bend where he knew the convoy would not be able to see, and he picked a tree visible from the road. But as he approached the tree, he silently wondered who exactly he was supposed to get the chalk on it. Yes it was tied around his ankle, but who was he supposed to leave a defined mark on it without reaching a finger into the bag? His wings didn’t have the kind of dexterity to do as he pleases while keeping aloft. 

He paused for a moment before, ultimately he decided to try something. He picked a low-hanging branch that was clearly visible from the road, and after backing up a bit, he flew just barely over it so the bag of chalk would bump into it. The bag did so- thankfully without snagging- and upon flying backward a bit, there was a mark of chalk left on the branch. It wasn’t much, however, so he could only hope the knights had good eyes. 

He moved quickly to get the job done, but also because his nerves were rising with each passing moment. He knew he didn’t have long in this form- but he wasn’t sure how long that was. His magic had been something he had honed to take the form of others to aid in lying for whatever he had needed (which, more often than not, was simply to sneak out of the castle from time to time). This was something he simply wasn’t used to, and yet he had no choice but to continue. Janus flew on, trying to focus on the sound of anything other than his quick beating heart and the sound of his wings. He marked tree after tree with ease, but his anxieties only grew- if the scouts had truly been attacked by monsters, he should’ve seen or heard something by now, right? Or was he simply being impatient? He landed on a branch briefly and forced himself to take a deep breath, and then another, and another. Panic would only make this worse. He needed to keep calm. To remain unaffected. That is what he had learned to do in the past, and it’s how he would remain in the future. He had already learned the hard way what had happened when he let his mask slip too far. 

He took off. 

Flying and marking trees, as time progressed, his mana began to trickle away. He wasn’t sure how long he had been at this when weariness began to creep into his mind. He flew along silently, noting how the bag felt lighter than when he had started and wondering how much further he could make it before he needed to turn back. Upon marking another tree, he sat atop the branch he had marked and gazed at the road ahead. It looked the same as when he started, with dying trees on either side, but it seemed that a small amount of other plants had increased. It was nothing in comparison to a normal forest, but here, with the occasional bush, flowers, or trees that dared to have one or two green leaves, it only looked “healthier,” where the road curved around a bend to go around a hill. The bend didn’t appear too far, but it was hard to gauge in a form so different from his own, but ultimately he chose the bend as his final marking. After that, he’d fly back, or if he couldn’t make it all the way, he’d perch on a tree until the Duke caught up. Janus gave his wings a stretch before he lifted himself in the air. He soared ahead, honestly just ready for this entire day to be done with. He was ready to just go back to the prison wagon and sleep for two days straight to recover his mana when he rounded the bend. 

The first thing he noticed was the intense greenery. Yes, he had seen it improving, but now it felt as if he was in a real forest. The grass was tall and lush, the trees thicker and flourishing, and the wind that blew through even felt clear and kind. It was as if he had gone somewhere else entirely. It was curiosity that pulled him further in than he initially intended to go, but it was the second thing he noticed which stopped him from progressing much further. A lack of animals. It stood to reason that an oasis such as this should’ve had many animals within it as they tried to survive- but it would make sense that only the strong would. Only the predators- perhaps something like monsters. As panic rose within him once again Janus turned and began to fly back the way he came. He’d fly around the bend and then perch and peck off the string around his leg. He’d then go back and explain his worries. He hadn’t made it ten feet before he saw the third thing he hadn’t expected- a woman. She was short and sitting high up in a tree, but she wore the same colors as the Duke’s knights. One of her eyes frantically looked about as she searched for something Janus couldn’t see. Her other eye, meanwhile, was closed tightly as a stream of blood from her head kept it shut. One of her hands held a dagger close to her chest, which rose and fell quickly in panic. Her other hand held the tree so she could steady herself as she shifted slightly, but Janus watched as her face contorted in pain. Adrenaline had never felt so cold in his veins as Janus quickly perched himself on a tree beside hers and began to make work of a string holding the chalk. He pecked at it again and again, wanting it to fall so he could mark the place the soldier was for the Duke, but the woman herself kept drawing his eye in worry. She shifted again, and from this angle he could see as she tried to move one of her legs up onto the branch instead of simply dangling. But the three bright green protrusions that pierced her protested. Janus held in a gag at the sight of her bloody leg with the green things bored through- but he managed to get the chalk bag to fall. The moment he was freed, he leapt from the branch into the air to go find someone who could actually help- when he noticed the fourth thing. 

He had seen something move out of the corner of one of his eyes, and he barely had time to register the giant green blur- before it pierced his wing. A scream of pain escaped his lips as he fell- his body transforming as he did until he hit the ground, forcing out what little air he had within him. He couldn’t even muster up a groan as his arm screamed in pain from what he could now see was a giant green needle or thorn piercing his left forearm. The pain was searing- greater than anything he had ever felt, but he drove his teeth into his tongue, too afraid to move or even make a sound. But his eyes, wet with tears, did drift to the soldier in the tree and the pitying look she gave him. Sure, she wasn’t in a great place, but at least- unlike him- she was hidden, and she was clothed. 

Janus took a deep yet shaking breath as he tried to muster what little mana he had yet to turn into something that would allow him to flee just around the bend he had come from- but he couldn’t muster a single ounce of the power. He couldn’t feel his mana at al, as if it had been sealed off… he could almost laugh at the stupidity of it- of himself. And as the sun above him felt cooler as shadows looked over him and the sound of something approaching grew louder as the soldier stiffened in place, Janus couldn’t stop the tears in his eyes from falling. Nor could he stop the panic from making it harder and harder to breathe. He couldn’t stop the pain he felt. He couldn’t stop the creature from approaching him. He couldn’t do anything- but with the last of everything he had- he let out a scream.

~~~~

All Chapters

[sanderssidesaddamsfamily]

a library visit

a visit to the library … and a lil smooch

[sanderssides-angst]

What a great and comprehensive analysis of a bad relationship between good people. I really enjoyed this. I related to Remus a lot and it’s an interesting fic

Preventable Yet Inevitable

Summary: Remus knew from the start that Roman and Janus dating was not a good idea.  But neither of them seem to want to listen to him.

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[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Role Reversal

Roman kept mentioning that he doesn’t like transformations and it kept reminding me of Patton turning into a giant frog and Janus disguising himself as other sides. It would be very cool and epic if you could make some Roman angst based off this concept (no pressure obviously) – anon

The song "I Am in Great Pain, Please Help Me" by Crywank reminds me so much of Roman (specifically, your brand of Roman angst). I was wondering if you had the spoons for it, to write something inspired by it? No pressure to, ofc! – anon

Perhaps something where Roman is comforting Logan and then after Roman leaves, Logan is like, “Wait, shit, I should have been comforting YOU!”. You know the scene in What Makes A Perfect Gift where Logan asks for Roman’s input and Roman looks genuinely surprised? The angst potential for Roman not thinking he’s needed at a BRAINSTORM is so slept on. I know you’ve had a lot of Roman angst asks lately so I understand if you don’t want to do it, but I definitely wanted to ask just in case! – anon

Roman angst disguised as Logan centric. Logan Sherlock fic about him trying to figure out why Thomas’s mental health is so bad. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: roman being insecure, logan being insecure

Pairings: logince can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3143

Logan feels stressed about Thomas's mental health and goes to Roman for help discussing a possible upcoming video, only for Roman to accurately guess that Logan's feeling insecure about his own role in keeping Thomas happy and healthy. Little does Logan know: there's more going on than meets the eye and it isn't until later that he realizes Roman's far more fragile than anyone could've guessed. After that, well, there's really only one course of action.

If Logan had not been paying very, very close attention, there is every possibility that he could have missed it.

He almost did; despite being entirely focused on his goal, he has to admit that it wasn't something he saw as necessarily related, and as such, dismissed initially as not relevant to solving the problem of why Thomas's mental health had been in a steady decline since the wedding. However, upon further reflection, he can conclude that not only was the sudden tightening of Roman's expression related, it was most likely the strongest indicator he's seen since he began.

"Sorry, Specs, I think my hearing cut out of a second there." Roman scratches the back of his head almost sheepishly. "Can you—can you say that one more time?"

"I believe it would be helpful for Thomas for us to do another 'low-key' video, as it were, and for you and I to work together."

"Yes, I heard that part."

"As we want to focus on recapturing some of Thomas's whimsy and zest for life—" here Roman's expression quirks towards amusement— "it would be apt for you to try and recreate some of the dreams Thomas has held onto in the past."

"Right, but not like—"

"Including transforming into those he aspired to be or the roles he aspired to fill," Logan finishes, frowning when there's that momentary tightness in Roman's smile again, "do you concur?"

"I—so I'm all for helping Thomas fall in love with his dreams again, you know, but, um…" He twists his fingers together. "I'm not sure that this is…the best way to do it?"

"You are the embodiment of Thomas's Hopes and Dreams. Who else would be better equipped to help me?"

Roman blinks as if he hadn't been expecting the comment. Which is in and of itself a little odd; Roman typically never passes up the opportunity to remind them of his standing in Thomas's psyche, nor to claim credit for half of the things Thomas does even when it's far more of a group effort. "Right, but I don't see how me turning into various things would be helpful."

"Thomas is a very visual learner. It's been proven in the past via various theater productions and other activities that he thrives in environments where he can immerse himself in what it is he's doing. By having you, his Creativity, directly mimic the dreams he wishes or wished to obtain, we draw a more substantial connection between the Thomas that he is now and the Thomas he aspires to be."

Roman's mouth works. Logan frowns.

"If you have something you want to say, Roman, by all means, speak your mind. This brainstorm won't be nearly as successful if only one of us is contributing."

"Where is this coming from, Logan?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"This." Roman gestures back and forth between them. "This sudden need to 'fix' Thomas. You've been pretty clear with the rest of us that you don't think staying 'in his head' would be helpful, not when you're working so hard on your lists that you want him to do."

"Well, it's been pretty clear those aren't working, so—"

"But they have been. You know they have been—we all celebrated when Thomas finally managed to clean his kitchen and you were right, he did feel better afterwards. Your methods were working, are working."

Logan swallows. He did feel very accomplished after the last bowl had been placed in the cupboard, and no one had been happier than he when Thomas not only made himself dinner but cleaned up afterwards, but this was different. "Thomas deserves the drive to go after what he wants as well as doing the maintenance required to sustain his current lifestyle."

Roman nods. "And what sorts of things are those?"

"Roman, I don't understand—"

"Please," he interrupts, holding up his hands, "humor me?"

"You're the one who's Hopes and Dreams," he protests feebly, "you're Creativity. I'm not going to be good at coming up with them."

"Just try. You're better at it than you think."

"O-oh." He blinks. "Thank you, Roman."

"Of course."

"Uh—well, I think Thomas has a passion for filmmaking that he hasn't fully realized in shooting the YouTube videos due to the constraints of the channel."

"Okay."

"He's been enjoying doing the modeling shoots for Instagram as well. And he has a few shows that he wants to catch up on—not a dream, I know, but something he wants to do."

"That's good, Logan. What else?"

"Does he still have the dream of being an actor? On a more professional level?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Well, there you are, then."

Roman nods. "And if we go off of your transformation idea, what—what exactly would I be transforming into?"

He furrows his brow. "Well, you would be—if you were doing—I suppose you—ah. I see your point."

"It's not that there's something Thomas isn't that we need to make him into," Roman says quietly, "we can just remind him of the things that are already inside him that he can chase and pursue."

"…that is a very valid conclusion to have reached."

"He doesn't have to work all the time—I think both you and I know the dangers of letting yourself believe you can," he says with a gentle nudge to Logan's shoulder, "he can give himself time to rest and work on things that he wants to, not things that he has to."

"And I suppose making another video would be counterproductive to this aim, as it requires a level of work that would not be outweighed by the reassurance it might provide."

"I don't know if I would've said it nearly as well as you, but yeah, pretty much."

Logan sighs, closing his notebook with an almost despondent flap. "Then I suppose I have nothing else to work on."

"Good."

He frowns at Roman. "'Good?'"

"Well, now that means you can do the things that you want to do."

"M-me? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Did we not just go over how important it is to not be consumed by work all the time?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Did we not just talk about how it's necessary to rest and do the things you want to do from time to time?"

"I don't—"

"Did you not just say that you have nothing else to work on right now?"

"I know what you're doing," he says, meaning for it to come out accusatory and missing dreadfully, "it's not going to work."

"Me convincing you to take time for yourself and enjoy spending your time how you want to spend it isn't going to work?" Roman grins, leaning forward onto his elbows, propping his chin on his hands. "Are you sure?"

"Roman," he warns.

"What? It's not like I was the only one who came to this conclusion about Thomas a second ago, you were instrumental in figuring it out, Specs."

"Roman."

"And we all know that you're way smarter than I am, so if you're going to take your own advice—which you should, then—"

"Alright!" Roman laughs as Logan buries his face in his hands, trying not to smile too obviously at the praise or blush from how many compliments Roman's just given him, "you've made your point, you can stop now."

"I think you mean I've just reiterated your point, but that's alright." A warm hand pats his shoulder. "You're doing great, Logan. You don't have to stress out about this right now. Thomas has earned a break and so have you, okay?"

"…I suppose there are a few things I've been waiting to do that could occupy my time."

"There you go!" Roman claps his hands and gets up, affectionately ruffling Logan's hair and dodging his attempts to swat him. "Let me know how it goes, I'd love to hear about whatever you're working on."

Logan aims another swat at his shoulder and misses, watching Roman sink out. He shakes his head, unable to keep the growing smile off his face as he thinks about his own projects. Yes, there are several things he could do, he could work on refining the data for the experiment, he could read that study he's been eyeing for a few days, he could look over the manuscript he's drafting…

It isn't until he gets back to his room with a different notebook open on his desk that he pauses.

Why had Roman been upset at the suggestion of transformation?

They had agreed upon resting and doing what they wanted, letting Thomas do what he wanted. They had agreed that resting was good, pursuing one's own passions was good. What about transformations had rankled Roman so? He hadn't directly addressed it—something virtually unheard of for Roman. Perhaps it had been something to do with the act of transforming itself? But no, Roman had always been among the first to thrill at being someone else, or pretending to be someone else. What had caused such a dramatic shift?

What sorts of transformations had they done recently? There had been the whole thing with Remus—Logan suppresses a shudder as he remembers Remus's song and everything that happened in it—but Roman had been unconscious for most of it. Aside from that, it had been…

Well, Janus had been transforming into them more often than not, but that was him, mostly, not Roman. And Patton had become the giant frog, but that hadn't really affected Roman that much either. No, the last time Roman had been the one transforming, it had been…for…

Logan stands up, eyes still fixed on a point in the distance as his mind races.

Roman hadn't transformed for himself. It had always been at the whim of someone else. Roman was Hopes and Dreams—Thomas's Hopes and Dreams. Roman did things for Thomas. He was Thomas's wants. Despite how often they all called him selfish, he…he didn't really fight for the things that he wanted.

Could he name a single thing that Roman wanted that wasn't something for Thomas?

I think you and I both know the dangers of believing you can work all the time.

There's nothing that Thomas isn't that we need to make him into.

"Oh, Roman," he whispers into the quiet room, "when did you get so good at hiding?"

He doesn't want to know the answer, but his mind is already coming up with a helpful list of every time he can remember where Roman let himself get pushed to the side, overruled, scolded, overlooked, for the sake of someone else. He thinks about the times where Roman had been obviously uncomfortable with what they wanted him to do, and then did it anyway. He thinks about how long it's been since he's actually heard Roman say what he wanted, not what Thomas wanted, not what Patton or Janus or even he wanted.

How long has it been since someone wanted Roman for Roman?

He looks back down at his desk and pulls out a different notebook. He's underestimated Roman. He won't go into this upcoming conversation unprepared.

***

He knocks on Roman's door as softly as he can, waiting for the quiet come in to push it open. Roman looks up from his—

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"Oh, Roman," he murmurs before he can stop himself, crouching next to Roman's slumped figure and carding a hand through his hair, "I'm so sorry."

"N-no, I'm sorry, 'm sorry, I can—" he scrubs a hand harshly across his face— "it's fine. What, um, what do you—"

Another sob interrupts him before he can finish asking if Logan needs anything, which only makes his chest ache all the more. He eases himself down next to Roman's buckled legs and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulders, pulling him close enough to wipe a thumb across his cheek.

"Shh," he says when Roman tries to speak again, "don't stress yourself. I'm not here for anything other than this, little one."

The pet name rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, but at the slightly wounded noise that leaves Roman's lips, he resolves to use them as often as he can. He scratches his nails lightly against his scalp, shushing him again when he tries to stifle another sob.

"I'm here because I realized I'd hurt you earlier," he continues, still speaking gently, "and I did not attempt to comfort you in any way. No, no—don't pull away from me, dear. Shh, don't fret, don't fret, I'm not upset—look at me, Roman, do I look upset?"

Roman's eyes, still filled with tears, roam frantically over his face. Logan keeps his expression as soft and open as he can, letting the concern write itself plainly over the furrow in his brow. After another moment, Roman sniffles and he's already reaching for the tissue box he can see perched haphazardly on the end of the desk. He takes it with a grateful mumble and blows his nose with a honk.

"You were right. You don't need to change to be worth something, or to be fixed. You don't need to become something you're not—oh, darling, hush, now," he says when Roman's eyes grow wide with distress, "I'm not angry, I'm not—oh, you poor thing."

For Roman had begun to sob in earnest, trying in equal parts to pull away from Logan's embrace and push himself near into his chest. Logan slides an arm under his legs and pulls them into his lap, tucking Roman's face into the crook of his neck and kissing the crown of his head. There's a moment where Roman tenses and he fears he might pull away, but then he all but collapses into him and buries his nose in Logan's shirt.

"There you go, little one, shh, it's alright. You can cry, crying is good. You're alright, you're safe, I'm right here." He runs his hand up and down Roman's back. "Shh, shh, that's it…that's it, my dear."

"Sorry—'m so sorry—"

"Shh-shh-shh, no apologies from you, not about this. You're overwhelmed and overworked, it's perfectly alright for you to be emotional right now. You can let it out, I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm here to help."

"Help?"

"Mm. You took great pains to comfort me earlier, even when I did not ask, and you," and here he gives Roman a little shake, "have not let anyone comfort you in quite a long time. So yes, I am here to comfort you, to help, and if that means letting you cry in my lap for as long as you need, then that is what I shall do."

"It's so hard," comes the sniffling whisper from under his chin, "I keep—I keep trying to be what they want but they don't know what they want and then it's my fault and I can't—they keep changing and wanting me to change and I can't—"

"Shh, shh…hush, my dear, it's alright. That's right, just let me hold you…"

They spend a great deal of time like that, curled up on the floor. Logan keeps carding his hand through Roman's hair, soothing away the more violent of sobs with gentle touches up and down his back or patting his chest. How long has Roman been holding this in? How long has it been since their prince has let himself fall apart without remorse? And how long has it been since they took pains enough to notice?

He pulls himself from his own thoughts when Roman's head turns, bumping slightly against his chin. He tilts his head to press a kiss to his temple, leaning back just enough to see the blotchy face come into view. Taking another tissue, he carefully dabs up the last of the tears he can see, holding it so Roman can blow his nose again.

"…thanks, Logan."

"Of course, my dear." He raises an eyebrow at the little shudder that goes through him. "No?"

"N-no, yes. Yes. Very much yes. Sorry."

"None of that now, my dear. Do you feel any better?"

"A little bit."

"That's excellent. Shall we sit here for a little longer, or do you want to move somewhere a little more comfortable?"

"C-can we just stay here for a little longer?"

"Of course we can." He runs his thumb over Roman's cheek again. "I am truly sorry it took me so long to figure out what was going on, little one. But I'm here now."

Roman averts his gaze and once again Logan is struck by how different Roman is right now; no longer does he see their fiery prince who so eloquently made him take his own advice mere hours ago, instead he sees a shell of a Side who shies away from a gentle touch like a dog too scared to eat. The comparison alone is enough to coax him to lean forward and kiss his cheek, cuddling him against his chest.

"I'm here now," he repeats, "let me look after you."

"You will?"

"Yes, Roman, I will. I'm right here—" he pulls him a little closer— "I've got you, little one, you're alright."

"I don't know what to do."

"Right now?"

"…anymore."

Logan's heart clenches in his chest and he forces the ache away, running his thumb over his cheek once more. "Well, what do you want to do right now?"

"I want to stay here."

"Then we shall stay here. And when you're ready to figure out what you want to do next," he says, adjusting them until they're both comfortable as can be, "I will be here to help."

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[edupunkn00b]

Happy Birthday, Remus 🎂🐙

Life got in the way of a Remus-centric thing I’m working on, but his introduction in 2019 (holy fuck, that really was five years ago) marked the moment I went from, ‘wow, Sanders Sides is really cool,’ to

Holy fuck I’m seen

Remus (and Janus, and later Logan and Patton) resonate within me—like a tuning fork—in a way I hadn’t experienced since Kira in DS9.

Thank you, @thatsthat24 for sharing your characters with the world. There are not enough words in the lexicon to express how much these bois mean to me.

[tsspromptmonth]

Hello! I would like a boba with a spill guard and starfruit syrup, please. If the barista thinks it would taste good, perhaps a ristretto base and/or crushed animal crackers, with just a sprinkle of a cinnamon-adjacent spice

translation: Janus-centric space au with a language barrier, and optional gt, animal traits, and enemies to lovers friends

and for an actual prompt...

Acclimatizing my cats to each other has made me want to read a fic with humans and aliens with similar Human Acclimatization Protocols, with Janus as the established cat human who's not so sure about this newcomer to the ship.... these are his aliens, and his ship!

meanwhile the aliens are like, please stop threatening the new baby, even if you don't mean it, this is why you're not allowed in the same room without a physical barrier and supervision yet

comments are on you can't go back by @delimeful

archiveofourown.org/works/31222502

Order Up!

In the Arms of the Angel by @edupunkn00b

(perhaps a little more Logan than a strictly Janus-centric story. Janus still gets all the best lines.)

[nandysparadox]

proud parent tears my babygirl... leaving the nest.. 🥺

tomorrow ill post the last chapter of awyhm on ao3 and i have so many feelings about that :')

[audreyscribes]

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·ABOUT ME· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Hi! I'm audreyscribes. This was and is still just a place for me to write stuff whenever and whatever I write, whenever inspiration comes to me; usually fanfiction work. I generally answer asks but I also make the choice if I don't feel like I can write it or not. I also do art mainly but those are usually on my art blog @audreycreations OR @sketchykitty_art on INSTA. I have written for so far, but am not limited to: [Percy Jackson and the Olympians], [DC Comics]

💻 Tumblr Blogs: OC-centric Blog || 🎨 Art Blog || ☕Ko-fi || 📕 Ao3

Frequent Tags: #askthescribe || #scribe's note

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • LIST OF MASTERLISTS:

Percy Jackson and the Olympians MASTERLIST: List of all PJO works

PJO MAJOR GODS MASTERLIST: List of headcanons of demigods of Major Gods (I.e. child of Zeus) \\ {Ao3 Link}

PJO MINOR GODS MASTERLIST: List of headcanons of demigods of Minor Gods (I.e. Child of Hecate) \\ {Ao3 Link}

PJO MISCELLANEOUS MASTERLIST: List of headcanons of demigods of other gods (i.e. child of Thanatos) \\ {Ao3 Link}

PRIMORDIAL GODS MASTERLIST: List of headcanons of demigods of the primordial demigods (i.e. Child of Gaea) \\ {Ao3 Link}

PJO ROMAN MASTERLIST: List of headcanons of demigod of Roman gods (i.e. child of Janus) \\ {Ao3 Link}

AO3 COMPILATION OF PJO TUMBLR ASK

DC COMICS + Naruto MASTERLIST

DEMIGOD WHAT IFS? A series of asks feat. demigods of certain gods and if they were in the story of the PJOverse books. Usually starting the Lightning Thief by Rick Riodan.

[st7arlights-side]

im currently studying for my art history exam and it has me thinking so hard about the different sides and their art periods of choice. Ofc, there's likely some more modern stuff or even older stuff in there, but going from periods i'm either studying now or have studied in the past, I've got some headcanons lined up!!

Janus: Surrealism (Rene Magritte especially), Quattrocento, Baroque (specifically Carravagio), perhaps Byzantine? Roman: Romanticism, some Baroque (more mythos-centric than history-centric), Renaissance Mannerism, Art Nouveau Logan: enlightenment period, classicism, some cubism Remus: baroque and romanticism but the fucked up kind (especially Goya's black paintings), Bosch, George Grosz Patton: Rococo, Impressionism, Virgil: cubism (Picasso especially), expressionism

feel free to suggest things as well, i think Patton and Virgil's especially could use some more work

[naminethewriter]

Foreign Help

Hello! I'm a barista at the Sleepy Bean Fanfic Café run over at @tsspromptmonth and this is an order for @kieraelieson! It involves Janus centric angst, a happy ending, only one bed and a language barrier. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Janus came along to his future stepfathers' cousin's wedding in hopes of getting to visit Germany and see some interesting things and not to have to share a bed with another cousin's son. Especially since they don't speak the same language. Literally.

Content Warnings: Human!AU, Angst, Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Nightmares, Language Barrier, German

Read here one Ao3!

German translations at the end.

~~*~~

“I didn’t agree to this!” Janus growls into his phone. His future stepfather sighs on the other end of the line.

“I know, Jay. But there’s nothing I can do about it! The hotel’s booked out, there are no other rooms. It’s just one night,” Remus tries to reason. Janus can hear the dull sound of more voices in the background.

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem for you to switch with me. I can sleep with my dad, and you can sleep with him!”

“Look, I know you’re frustrated, but you can’t actually believe that it’s appropriate for me to sleep in the same bed as my 15-year-old nephew who I hardly know. Especially since we’re out at a bachelor party right now and will be back late and intoxicated. Neither you nor Patton want to sleep next to us afterwards, I promise you.”

“Who thought it was a good idea to have the bachelor party the day before the wedding anyway? Aren’t you all just going to be hung over tomorrow?”

“Never mind that, we’ll deal. Now, you said you’d be okay earlier, what changed? I may not know Patton super well but he’s a good kid. I can’t imagine him doing anything that would upset you this much?”

“It’s the fact that the dude doesn’t seem to speak a lick of English! How am I supposed to tell him what not to do if he doesn’t understand me?!” Janus glances inside through the glass door that leads from the balcony back into the room. Patton is sitting on the bed with a DS in hand, concentrating on whatever game he’s playing.

“He can speak a bit of English, and I taught you a bit of German, you can figure out the rest. Plus, you both have phones, use google translate if you must. Patton knows how to politely share a room, it’ll be fine.”

“Siblings sharing rooms isn’t the same, Remus.”

“He’s an only child. He’s—” Remus breaks off and for a moment Janus thinks the line died. “Look, I don’t want to go into detail, but Pat’s been through a lot. He’s been sick since he was young and spent a lot of time in the hospital. That’s also why he doesn’t speak English all that well, he’s been homeschooled and his parents reasonably decided to focus on other subjects. He’ll be cordial, you can do the same, I’m sure.”

Janus doesn’t say anything but groans maybe a bit dramatically.

“I promise you, Jay, I talked with my cousin, and she made sure that at the wedding venue tomorrow you’ll have two beds. One night. That’s all I’m asking of you. Go to bed early and it’ll be even less of a problem.”

“Urgh, fine! But you owe me.”

“Sure thing, champ. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Janus hangs up, though not before he hears Remus chuckling on the other end. The guy is so lucky that his dad’s infatuated with him or Janus would hit him in the morning. He lets out another sigh before returning back inside.

Patton looks up from his game at the sound of the door sliding open.

“Okay?” he asks, his head tilted to the side.

“Yeah. Has to be apparently.” He mumbles the last part under his breath and ignores the confused look on Patton’s face. Instead, he tries to recall what little German phrases Remus had taught him before they came here.

“Dein,” he says, motioning towards the side of the bed Patton is sitting on. “Mein.” This time he points at the unoccupied side. “Kein fassen.”

Patton blinks at him before repeating the gestures.

“Me. You. No touch?”

Janus nods.

“No touching my stuff.”

“Natürlich. Would never.”

“Good.” With that, Janus decides to ignore his reluctantly accepted companion and gathers his stuff to go take a shower. Thankfully, the bathroom door locks.

~~*~~

He smells the fire first. Then he feels the heat.

Oh no.

His eyes snap open.

The smoke is surrounding him from all sides.

Not again.

He can’t do it again.

Wasn’t once enough?

What kind of sick joke is this?

He tries to call for help but the air, thick with ash, chokes him before he can muster up a single sound.

Where even is he?

He hears wood groaning and splintering. Something crashes to the ground.

“Janus? Janus!”

A voice he doesn’t recognize rings through the dark. It’s calling his name, but the pronunciation is off.

“Janus! Wach auf! Komm schon, wach auf! Du musst atmen!“

He doesn’t understand. What kind of a language is that?

He has no time to dwell on it as something next to him falls. He flinches away but that only leads him closer to the heat. He turns around and is face to face with the flames.

“No. No. Please. I can’t,” he whimpers, unable still to raise his voice. His knees give away under him and he falls to the ground.

The air is thick down here as well and he starts coughing.

Is he going to die this time?

“Janus? Tut mir leid, aber Remus hat gesagt das würde helfen…“

What is the voice saying? He doesn’t—

Suddenly there’s something cold on his hand and Janus gasps.

His eyes fly open, and he sits up as if stung.

“Oh, Gott sei dank.”

Janus is still trying to get his breathing under control as his eyes find Patton sitting next to him, a water bottle in his hand. A drop of water is running down its side.

Ah, so that was the cold thing.

“What—” He gasps for more breath. “What happened?”

“Oh, uhm… Moment, please.”

Janus watches as Patton sets the water bottle aside on his nightstand and grabbing his phone instead. He types on it for a moment.

“You niktmare?” he asks, holding out his phone for Janus to see. It takes him a moment to get his eyes to focus on the screen, his breathing finally calming down. Patton has pulled up google translate, one side reading Albtraum and the other nightmare.

Oh yeah.

That would explain things.

His scars itch at the memory but he pushes the sensation away.

Patton is still looking at him, concerned.

“Yes,” he nods. “Nightmare.”

“Guessed. Called Remus. Coming here. With Logan.”

Janus sinks back down onto the bed with a sigh. So, his dad and soon-to-be stepfather were on their way back to check on him. He doesn’t like to admit it but he’s glad. He likes to pretend that he’s 16 and totally independent but staying in a foreign country with a guy he doesn’t know seems to have stressed him more than he thought if it brought back the worst memories of his life.

“Danke,” he says and Patton smiles.

“Kein Problem. Ich hoffe es geht dir bald besser.“

Janus can only guess what that means but he doesn’t press.

It’ll be okay.

A tap on his shoulder makes him flinch and he looks to Patton who’s holding the water bottle again.

“Drink?” he asks.

Janus wonders for a moment where the bottle had even come from but then he remembered the mini fridge. They’d have to pay extra for using it, but… He could really use a cold drink right now.

He nods and Patton brightens, eagerly unscrewing the lid.

Janus watches him and thinks that maybe the next few days aren’t going to be that bad.

~~*~~

Natürlich - Of course

Janus! Wach auf! Komm schon, wach auf! Du musst atmen! - Janus! Wake up! Come on, wake up! You need to breathe!

Janus? Tut mir leid, aber Remus hat gesagt das würde helfen… - Janus? I'm sorry, but Remus said this would help...

Oh, Gott sei dank. - Oh, thank God.

Danke - Thanks

Kein Problem. Ich hoffe es geht dir bald besser. - No problem. I hope you feel better soon.

[maddragonfruit]

❤️ Favorite side

💔 Least favorite side

🎬 Favorite episode

🕸 Opinion of Virgil

🐸 Opinion of Patton

🐀 Opinion of Remus

👔 Opinion of Logan

👑 Opinion of Roman

🐍 Opinion of Janus

Favorite side is Roman, I relate to him a bunch and he's literally my transition goals.

Least favorite side is a hard one, I don't dislike any of them but if I had to choose I'd probably choose Logan. He's really interesting and I do like him but he's just the side I think about and write about the least.

My favorite episode is absolutely Accepting Anxiety Part One. It's so silly and funny, and seeing Roman, Logan and Patton try to corral Thomas and also figure out what's going on with him is real entertaining.

I think Virgil's such a cool character, I need to know more of his backstory with Janus and Remus and possibly that orange side. But I think his redemption ark was great, I do wish he was still a little more mean like he was in season one though.

Patton is a character I don't honestly have too many strong feelings towards, I think he's a great character and he's quite interesting too. I think I'm quite intrigued by like the idea of child Patton, if that makes sense, like what he was like when/before Thomas's morality gained it's values but otherwise I don't have too much to say.

Remus is a character that I do think is cool, I really enjoy him whenever he's on screen and I want to learn more since he's only been in a few episodes, granted he did have a main role in two of them.

My opinion of Logan is a like Patton's, I don't have too many opinions on him. I think the Orange side thing is really intriguing and the fact that in the first episode he was quite silly compared to how serious he is now is also something that I like the angst of, but I just don't think about him too much.

God, Roman is such an investing character to me. He's so silly and goofy and I love the entire aspect of his character. His angst is so interesting too, I think he's quite insecure about the fact he's only "half a side" which he isn't, and I think at some point he did/he does want some sort of relationship with Remus, even though it just couldn't happen because they were made to be opposites. He clearly likes the "black and white" idea of fairytales and real life, he looks up to Patton a bunch and it's clear their relationship was fractured in SVS redux because he looks to him for guidance but Patton isn't sure how to guide Roman or Thomas or anyone anymore, and the fact that he now thinks he isn't Thomas's hero? It's so great. His relationship with Virgil is great and I love how it's developed over the series. I can't wait for the season finale because as far as I'm aware it's Roman centric? Correct me if I'm wrong though.

Janus is such an interesting character, I want to know what happened between him and Virgil so much because there is absolutely such an angsty backstory there. His entire thing of being Deceit and Self-preservation is great, lying to Thomas because that's what Thomas wants to hear? So good. Really interesting.

[jungle321jungle]

False Dawn- Ongoing

For his entire life, Janus Ekans had done whatever he could to prove himself and rise in the ranks of his father’s court, but it was all worthless in the end. Now, the only path to survival is to rely on his father’s killer, Duke Logan Ackroyd, even if it means discarding his pride and blood ties. It might not be freedom, but at least it won't be his head rolling on the floor next.

~~~~

False Dawn:

Idiom: A situation that looks like it is beginning to improve when, in reality, it is not.

Ao3 - Other Masterlists

Chapters:

One

Two

Three

[sanderssidesaddamsfamily]

A monster post

This is a collaborative story told by three friends, as a patchwork of one shorts and short stories. we update once a week, and have about two months of scheduled content as of making this post, and intend to continue this post schedule if nothing goes awry. here are all the links to the A03 stories. A new tutor.

Roman loves his boys. So much. But they do go through teachers rather fast...

Completed.

A funeral, A date.

Patton escorts Logan to a funeral to comfort. Logan is thrilled Patton agreed to a date. They are confused, your honor.

Completed.

A Library Visit. some interesting activity in the library. Completed.

A raven.

we meet inkblot, the main character, the best bird, and my beloved. Oh also, plot or whatever - Logan asks Patton a question.

Completed.

A new look.

they swap vibes. no plot just fun.

Completed.

A beau ideal.

we see the story of this families OTHER happy couple.

Completed.

A question.

Going to the chapel and we're gonna get - wait. No?

Ongoing (3/6)

A Helleborus bouquet

Set during a question. Logan is frustrated and sad... Patton grows flowers.

completed, but may be edited. Cabbage Patch Kids

1/5 in progress.

If you like our works, but wish this story was completely different, set in space and based on doctor who (though friendly to readers who don't know anything about who) that exists, and can be found at @hearts-thru-time-and-space. it is completed, and updates about once a week at the moment - though as life becomes more and more busy this may change.

As time goes on completed works may be edited for grammar.

[not-sure-what-im-feeling]

Let’s say, hypothetically, one were to make an angsty animatic (Virgil centric) to Rät by Penelope Scott. And let’s say, hypothetically, it’s about conflict between Virgil and the “Dark Sides”. Maybe Logan Janus and Remus are shown in the “scientists, atheists, and white men who kill god” line.

Theoretically, what might one have for the “they make technology” line? Suggestions are welcome (if they’re hypothetical of course)