#my Sanders Sides writing

[not-sure-what-im-feeling]

Hc that even though Virgil is red/green colour blind (specifically like a dog) and even though he can’t see purple, it’s his favourite colour.

He had just recently broken things off with Janus. It was messy, and loud, and he would rather die than have anything to do with Janus ever again in his life.

He went to the only person he could think to help him with it. The romance extraordinaire, creative prince himself, Roman. He went to him for a distraction.

“Uh, what’s your favourite colour?” Roman asked after Virgil’s sobs had died down for a bit.

Virgil looked up from the tear soaked satin pillow he’d been wailing into, Roman just a blurry grey mess in front of him.

“I don’t— fuck. I don’t *know*!” He almost screamed, shoving his face back in the pillow.

Roman’s hand rubbed his shoulder, and he muttered to him softly in his efforts to comfort him. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. Do you want to pick one now? Hm… which colours *can* you see again?”

“Uh… blue, grey, and—“ Virgil’s voice came out muffled until he choked on tears again. “Fucking yellow.”

“Ah.”

“What’s the farthest away from *yellow* that I can get?”

Roman didn’t even hesitate before he answered. “Purple. It’s on the other end of the colour wheel.”

“*That*. Purple’s my favourite. Anything that isn’t close to *him*.”

Roman nodded, barely stifling a laugh. “Purple’s a good colour. The colour of royalty!”

Virgil’s tears stopped for a moment. “Are you purple?”

“No— No, I wear red and white.”

Virgil pulled his head back up, a broken grin on his teary and mascara stained face. “You’re a prince and you don’t wear purple?!”

[lefaystrent]

"I want to tell you something."

Thomas speaks the words into the quiet of the kitchen. He stares down at the pot of water sitting on the stove. The burner has been lit, and the heat rises. Soon, the water will boil.

"And it's- it's something that I've thought for a long time now. Years. But I've never said anything."

The smallest of bubbles rise to the surface. Over his shoulder, Thomas can see Patton sitting at the bar.

"It's okay. Take your time," he says. His nose scrunches up as he smiles. His glasses reflect a scattering of kitchen light.

Thomas snorts. "I think years is enough time." He breaks a bundle of pasta in half, letting them fall gently into the steaming water. He adjusts the temperature, then shifts on his feet. "I've just...never said anything," he repeats.

"You don't have to say anything at all." Janus sits at the bar instead. He wears a frown, and he's leaned over the surface with his chin in a propped palm, but the patience in his gaze belays his bored demeanor. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I certainly won't force you."

Want to? No.

Thomas shakes his head and stirs the pot. "I think I need to."

"Do you?" Logan sits at the bar. His arms are folded over his tie, but it's not an intimidating pose. It's careful. Considerate. "I'd like you to take a moment to 'check yourself before you wreck yourself', as they say. Is that how you use that phrase?"

Thomas rolls his eyes, and yet he's smiling. This is a heavy topic, but it's not constricting. He stirs the noodles easily and they begin to fold together like they were made to. "I'm okay. I don't need to think about it more. I'm not anxious, not really."

"Yeah?" And now it's Virgil sitting at the bar. He stops as if he had been caught in the middle of playing with the string of his hoodie. Then he smooths down the front of his clothes. No ruffles here. He nods. "Good. That's good. That's good, right?"

Thomas still smiles. "Yes, that's good." The pasta softens as it swirls around the water. Round and round it goes. When will it stop? Nobody knows.

"Well don't just keep me in suspense!" Remus slams his hand down on the bar. And then he does it again and again, maybe just to hear the smack, smack, smack. He's not grinning maniacally or anything. Just a quirk of his mustache. A glint in his eyes. A cocked brow. "You know I love a good tease... but this is playing too coy!"

Thomas heaves a huge sigh. "I guess I just..." He trails off. He knocks the spoon against the pot's rim to shake off the water. He sets it aside. "I just don't want this to change anything."

The warmth of the burner blankets his face. The stove vent thrums above his head, and distantly Thomas hears the air conditioner click on. A light sheen of perspiration beads across his face, but its not wholly unpleasant.

Would it be bad? If this did change anything?

Roman sits at the bar. His shoulders are low, like all the breath has left him. He watches Thomas calmly with sad eyes. "What have you got to lose?"

In the pot, the pasta swirls and swirls until it's ready.

"I love you," Thomas finally says, and he turns to look over his shoulder to find that it's himself who sits there.

The other him beams proudly. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Satisfied, Thomas flicks off the stove burner and drains the water in the sink. He stirs together noodles, hamburger meat, and red sauce, until its in perfect measures, just the way he likes it.

After making himself a plate, Thomas sits at the dining table. He is alone with himself, and he's alright with that.

[logan-the-artist]

does it ever get lonely up there on the wall?

to be looked at but never to hold

mister porcelain doll

[kieraelieson]

Virgil wasn’t usually the first one awake, but this morning his body had just decided it was done with sleep an hour or so before it usually would have to coaxed awake. The sun was just up enough to provide a gentle light, diffused through their window by the autumn leaves of the tree outside.

Virgil’s eyes were caught by his husband, laying there still asleep. Logan’s glasses were off, and his face relaxed, all his usual angles softened into roundness. His hair was a little messy, tousled by sleep and by the soft touches Virgil had given it the night before. He looked younger, vulnerable, soft.

Virgil reached out, tenderly tucking back a strand of hair that was tickling his lover just under the eye. Logan didn’t stir, just continued his smooth breaths. His head was tilted towards Virgil, his cheek slightly squashed by the pillow. It was utterly endearing, how he would lean towards Virgil even in his sleep.

Logan shifted, one arm coming up to provide shade from the growing sunlight, a soft half snore escaping him. Virgil couldn’t help a little fond smile. His Logan. His husband. Only he got to see him soft and true like this, without any of his protections and guards up. He was so gorgeous. Virgil loved him so, so very much.

Virgil leaned in to give him a soft kiss on his temple. Logan made a sleepy sound, a smile just barely tugging at his lips before he drifted back into sleep. Virgil slipped quietly out of the bed. He would go make some coffee to surprise Logan with when he woke.

[delimeful]

how easy you are to need (redux) (7)

warnings: misunderstandings, feeling trapped, unhealthy thoughts about an assumed situation, death and injury mention, discussion of debts, unreliable narrator, virgil horribly misinterpreting yet another normal conversation, literally embarrassing levels of thick-headedness

-

Letting his guard down around the humans was far, far easier than it should have been.

He still eased his defenses down slowly, bit by bit, of course, he wasn’t a complete fool. An understanding between him and Patton didn’t necessarily mean that the others felt the same.

They were humans, not shifters, after all, and while he could see the shape of a pack in their closeness, that didn’t mean he could assume the same principles would apply. They all took on equal responsibilities in maintaining and protecting their home, and none of the three had shown any particular indication that they were a designated envoy, meant to speak for the entire pack.

Frankly, with it only being the three of them, a lack of envoy wouldn’t have been too surprising even if they had been shifters. Some smaller packs forewent assigned roles, rotating them as needed, or were close-knit enough that they essentially acted as one whole, any individual able to speak for the pack.

The humans loved to bicker, though, and it would have been like a slap in the face to trust in Patton’s promise and then have them argue about it right in front of him. Instead, Virgil tested the firmness of the new ground he’d been offered with slow, tentative steps, like a deer crossing over a frozen lake. Better to take his time and test the ice than plunge right through.

Irritatingly, the humans made it far too easy for him to forget how precarious his standing was.

Even the simplest of interactions seemed to please them. When he’d responded to Patton’s friendly greeting for the first time, the morning after their midnight conversation, the human’s expression had lit up like a lightning bug at dusk. When he’d finally answered one of Logan’s questions during a meal, the scholar had blinked a few times in quiet surprise before smiling in a way that made his entire face look softer. When he’d pursed his lips and snapped out a sharp retort to something annoying Roman had said, the hunter hadn’t hesitated to needle him right back with friendly delight, the same as he did with the other two.

They were keeping him trapped here, because they were human and they knew better than to let a monster roam free in the woods around their home, but they didn’t want a starved prisoner or a ticket to easy riches. They wanted to offer him comfort and belonging in the time that he had left.

He’d saved them, and they were repaying it in the only way they could afford to.

It was pathetic, how relieved he felt. How genuinely grateful he was for the simple fact that he wasn’t being forced to relive the unending torment of his first imprisonment. How such basic offerings of food and warmth and companionship made it possible to ignore or even briefly forget about the executioner’s axe hoisted over his head.

He’d been on his own for a long time. Returning to that solitude would be its own kind of death, a slow and painful relearning of what it meant to be alone. He knew this, but tried not to dwell on it. He’d survived it once before, and he would again. Better to endure the loneliness than lose the safety of isolation.

So, he forced himself to keep focusing on methods of escape, on the ways this slowly-growing camaraderie would offer lapses in security, on the new freedoms he could take advantage of, and didn’t think about what he would do afterwards.

With this goal in mind, he immediately decided to test his luck by poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

He’d regained some mobility after another week of healing, though he kept his walking pace to a slow shuffle out of caution, and the humans still tended to hover like agitated honeybees whenever he was on his feet for too long. The cabin was small enough that he had mapped out most of it within a day or two, and now he approached the only room he hadn’t yet entered or peered into.

When he pushed the door of Logan’s workspace open, the human’s head snapped up immediately, wearing the beginnings of a frown. Once he saw that it was Virgil who stood in the doorway, though, the displeased turn of his lips faded away, replaced by eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Hello,” he said, voice polite despite the interruption. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Of the three of them, Logan had been the most respectful in his formality, and so Virgil impulsively tested the bounds of that patience by not answering right away, instead letting his gaze drift over the room and its contents.

There were far more plants scattered about than he’d expected, though perhaps he should have expected as much from the dedication Logan tended his garden with. Pots of different shapes and sizes were settled on every inch of the window ledges, and planters hung from shelves and hooks on the ceiling alike. There was an entire corner of the room dedicated to racks of drying herbs and flowers, both wild and homegrown, which lent the room a pleasant dusty floral smell that almost covered up the sting of ink and chemicals.

There was a table against one wall, the shelves around it packed full with bottles of miscellaneous ingredients, all of them labeled in neat handwriting. The table itself was covered in neatly-organized supplies, with protective sigils carefully carved into the outer edge of the wood, keeping any experimentation contained. It stank less than he’d thought it would, for human magecraft, but then he hadn’t yet seen Logan doing any of the typical dissection and harvesting of supernatural creatures, either.

After the full moon, it would have the bitter tang of magic made through unwilling sacrifice, the distant preserved rot of bottled blood. Virgil would recognize the stench of post-harvest ingredients anywhere. Not that he’d be there to smell it, at that point. He forcibly pulled his attention away.

The last section of the room was less orderly than the rest, primarily due to the heaps of books that were stacked and shoved wherever there was space. Logan’s desk was the only semi-clear spot, and even that had a few precarious book towers sitting atop or alongside it. It was also covered in stacks of parchment, with lines and lines of writing or intricate diagrams sketched on the paper.

Logan sat behind it, still awaiting a response, those keen eyes watching him right back.

There was no sign of the lodestone for the ward around the cabin at first glance. He had known better than to think it would be that easy, though.

He hadn’t known that he would actually get this far, assuming that they wouldn’t want their magic prisoner sticking his nose in the most likely place to find a way out of their wards. Even Roman and Patton didn’t tend to disturb Logan too often when he was working in this space, so he’d assumed he’d only get a few moments to glance around at best.

“You haven’t been to the leyline crossing,” he said, because the silence had begun to grow awkward and he’d panicked and they really hadn’t, even though it was well past the usual time of the month they went.

Logan’s stare sharpened, which was probably a bad sign, but he only stood up to clear the books off of a second chair, and gestured for him to sit.

This had been a bad idea. Virgil slunk forward with extreme reluctance and sat.

“We haven’t,” Logan answered affirmatively as he returned to his seat, adjusting his spectacles. “It didn’t seem wise to venture into the woods, seeing as that is where the bear headed, last we saw it.”

That was… a really good reason, actually. Virgil shuddered at even the idea of them running into that creature again in the dead of night, without him to help.

“I take it that you’ve been familiar with us for a while, then, since you know of our routine offerings?” Logan continued, sounding more curious than angry.

Virgil froze up, regardless. He should have known better than to hope he could make it through a conversation without giving anything away. He hadn’t even managed to make it through the first sentence.

“I am not upset,” Logan offered, glancing down at the open book before him in a gesture that seemed designed to give Virgil a moment to breathe. “On the contrary, I am… rather relieved, to have my suspicions confirmed.”

“Relieved?” Virgil echoed dubiously, his voice a low croak. It tended to go raspy and hoarse if he wasn’t focusing on speaking, probably the result of not using his human vocal cords to speak to anyone in literal years.

“Indeed,” Logan answered. “I will admit, my initial impression of you was made hastily. We had never seen you before, and yet you didn’t hesitate to defend us, and you earned a significant injury in the process. It was worrying to unexpectedly incur such a debt.”

Virgil managed to shove aside his embarrassment in favor of confusion. It was strange to mention a debt, especially one owed to a shifter. Humans didn’t consider shifters worth trading with in any fashion, in his experience, and even other supernatural beings knew that wolves weren’t fond of holding debts or grudges. Really, the way Logan spoke about it sounded more like…

“You see, I was aware that it is rather rare for a shifter to reveal themself to humans for any length of time, as I’m sure you know, and I was also aware that the fair folk are often deft hands at taking on wild shapes of their own, particularly when interacting with humans, so…” Logan trailed off, looking a bit flustered at the admission.

“You thought I was fae,” Virgil completed the thought, feeling a bit taken aback at the idea. He certainly would have done a fair bit more against that bear if he’d had the sort of natural power that faeries so often courted.

Of course, things also would have turned out a lot worse for the humans if he’d been a fae, more likely than not. Humans who had fallen under the attention of one of the fair folk frequently met an unfortunate end because of it. Whether the faery in question was maliciously fixated or lovingly obsessed, the human would be lucky to come out irrevocably changed. They’d be lucky to come out alive at all.

“It was a working hypothesis,” Logan said primly, turning a page in his book despite the fact that he almost definitely hadn’t been reading while they spoke. “It was disproven easily enough, and so my precautions weren’t needed in the first place, but seeing as my haste has gotten me and those around me in trouble before, I thought it best to perform them anyhow.”

Precautions? Patton had said that Virgil saved his life, if not all of theirs. To the fae, a life debt like that could only be paid off one way, whether they’d been tricked into it or not.

Oh. He had wondered why Logan had been so uncharacteristically careless before, carrying an agitated and injured shifter back with its teeth only a handspan from his neck. If Virgil had been fae, if he’d chosen differently and torn out Logan’s throat, that would have been the end of any debt between him and the others. A life paid for a life owed.

“Did you run that plan by the others, first?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Logan waved a hand dismissively, not bothering to pretend at regret. “They traveled out here on my behalf, in the first place. To let them suffer for my mistakes would be a poor repayment.”

From what he knew of them, Virgil thought Patton and Roman would disagree. Loudly.

“…Right,” said Virgil, in his most dubious tone. “On your behalf?”

“I’m cursed,” Logan explained shortly. “I don’t have the constitution required to perform magework without damaging my health. It was intended to make me choose between my health and my passion, but I was willing to give up neither, and found a third option: proximity to powerful natural magic, which would prevent spellwork from being as taxing.”

“Huh.” It was a clever solution. Logan might have been the one to propose their solution to Virgil, too. Offering a shifter a peaceful last few weeks certainly wasn’t an option he would have expected from any normal humans.

Right. He’d almost forgotten that his plan had been to push against the boundaries of his cage, to force them to acknowledge that he was stuck here, to remind himself that no amount of kind company was worth the pain of how this month would inevitably end.

“Well, you don’t owe me anything,” he said, a little too sharply. “And in that case, there’s no point in me staying.”

Logan sat up straight, posture stiffening as he frowned. “You’re still far from healed. I understand why you don’t wish to shift, but surely, leaving is a bad idea for the same reason?”

There it was. In the end, that was the biggest flaw in the arrangement the humans had come up with. If Virgil attacked them or tried to leave, they’d be forced to kill him immediately. He would lose, but so would they; killing him in his human form would make his corpse far, far less valuable.

“You’re only making things more difficult on yourself,” Virgil told him, crossing his arms as tightly as he could without jarring his wound. “I’m not fae. There’s no worth in being hospitable to me.”

It certainly wasn’t going to convince him to stop trying to escape. He might be pathetic, but he wasn’t that pathetic. Honestly, it’d probably be easier for everyone if they just cut their losses and killed him now.

Logan closed his book, folded his hands over it, and met Virgil’s eyes squarely. “We offered you our hospitality because we wanted to. It is freely given, no matter the ease or difficulty involved.”

Virgil couldn’t help the way his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. That implied that they would keep on offering him this kindness even if he did get caught attempting to escape.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t ever been truly punished for that first desperate sprint to the wards, had he? None of the things he’d believed to be threats or punishments had ever panned out the way he’d assumed. Ultimately, they hadn’t so much as directly scolded him about the escape attempt, as though the act was hardly surprising. He hadn’t been drugged, and he still wasn’t guarded.

He couldn’t be certain unless he got caught again, but… the signs were all there. They were confident enough in their cage to indulge him even when he was caught gnawing at the bars. They were underestimating him.

“Don’t blame me if you regret it later,” he said dismissively, but he couldn’t help the disbelieving half smile creeping onto his lips.

Logan returned his smile with an encouraging one of his own, apparently unfazed by Virgil’s renewed determination. “I very much doubt I will.”

He snorted and left the human to his work, not cowed at all by the arrogance. Logan could doubt all he liked. Virgil had beaten much worse odds before.

[loganslowdown4]

Can I just gush for a quick second?

My right-brain boy still writes with his right hand, that’s alright 😙👌 ❤️🤍

When I sAY I LOVE THE DETAILS— 🥹

Note: Thomas is left handed.

[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

[kingcreativityau]

Hi, I was wondering if, because you aren’t planning on working on this any time soon, you would be willing to release any notes you had on the story. I’m curious about how the story ends and so if you had anything on that it would be really appreciated.

Hi!

I'm willing to spoil a bit of the story for your curiosity, so here you go!

So what I planned to do was to do a bit of more backstory bits and the Split itself (personally one of my favourite moments)

And then to go on with the main story. Some main bits:

Virgil's nightmares terrorizing them all. Turns out baby Patton has some power over them though. Also, Janus can fight them.

King pitting Janus and Virgil against each other. Manipulating Virgil, having lots of talks with him. There's one moment where he pretends to be twins 'breaking through' and throws some shade about Jan, so Virgil (already being on the edge) actually goes to fight him.

Lo keeps staying in the middle. Being the glue to hold it all together.

There's still some doubts about our local snake though.

Then King separates them for a bit later on. Lo stays on his own with Pat and King steals baby Patton to, well, torment him a bit. Some stuff ensues. (also one of my personal favourites). Anyway, Virgil goes to attempt to rescue him later.

Let's say Shadow Virgil plays some role in there. And that kickstarts the plot of there actually being hope to fix this mess :)

And then there's the second half of the story. Which I like even more but I think that's enough spoilers for today :)

Hope you liked it!

[oliviaischillin1204]

Imagine Pre-Accepting Anxiety Virgil walking into the common room and seeing the Light Sides having a tickle fight. Now he has to find a way to keep his tough guy act while dealing with being a secret lee!

HAPPY TICKLETOBER EVERYONE!!! we're starting off strong with this ask, sent to me on jun 18 2020 lmaooooooooooo. if this prompt seems familiar, it's b/c it was also sent to @why-not-a-tickle-blog around the same time! (link to her story here!) and when i tell you've literally been working on this wip on and off ever since i got it,,,,, i am such a wip harder AJDFHGHDJ

and now, without further ado, let's let tickletober 2024 begin!

tickletober day 1- "anticipation"

word count: 7,580 words

So... the Light Sides were weird.

Virgil knew that way before he’d started hanging around their little group. From movie nights to sing-alongs to family dinners, they were overall obnoxiously chummy and irritatingly comfortable with each other.

Case in point: when Virgil finally managed to roll out of bed at about two in the afternoon, there was a strange sound in the air. Not Princey’s singing, or Logic’s lecturing, or even Morality’s incessantly cheerful... whatever he does. 

After reapplying his smeared eye shadow, he meandered out of his room and headed to the common area. As he got closer, it sounded like... laughter?

He huffed a sigh as he swung himself down the stairs.

“Can you all please keep it down--”

Virgil froze, one hand on the railing as he took in the scene before him.

There were the three Light Sides, but he’d never seen them like this. Princey-- ugh, fine, Roman-- was lying on the floor, but what caught Virgil’s eye was the state of disarray he seemed to be in. Next to him was Patton, sitting cross legged and looking similarly rumpled, and next to Patton was Logan, who was normal except for the blush riding high on his cheeks.

That wasn’t the weirdest part, though. The weirdest part was the way Logan was pinching at Roman’s knees and thighs with a careful accuracy, or the way Roman was reaching to vibrate his fingers all over Patton’s stomach, or the Patton had a hand on both Logan’s and Roman’s sides and was squeezing away with reckless abandon. Or the way all three were laughing together in delight at the tickle fight Virgil had somehow managed to walk in on.

Speaking of Virgil: when he processed the scene happening before him, he couldn’t help but let out a surprised little gasp. That noise, quiet as it was in the chaotic room, still managed to stop the other three in their tracks, and they all turned to look at him.

Patton, of course, was the first to speak. “Well, hey, Anxiety!”

“Um--” was all Virgil managed to say. His face turned hot, and he prayed that it wasn’t as bright red as it felt. He gripped the railing under his hand and avoided eye contact. “I--”

Roman scoffed, hurriedly sitting up and pulling away from Logan’s tickly hands.

“Is there something we can help you with, villain?” he asked brusquely, but Virgil got the feeling that he was more embarrassed that Virgil saw him getting tickled than annoyed that the anxious side was there. Still, his words were enough to snap Virgil out of his spell, and he managed to roll his eyes.

“I said,” he repeated, hoping his voice wouldn’t fail him, “would you please keep it down? You’re gonna wake the whole Mind Palace with your... game.”

There was the crack in his voice; Virgil knew it was going to come, and he felt himself grow even warmer. Thankfully, no one commented on it.

“Apologies, Anxiety,” Logan said, straightening his glasses. “We didn’t intend to be so loud. We got... carried away.”

Patton giggled, his hands creeping back to Logan and Roman’s sides. “’Carried away’ sure is one way to put it, guys--”

The other two swatted his hands away, but Virgil caught the flustered grins that adorned both of their faces. Their eyes darted back to Virgil, and he swallowed, suddenly feeling very out of place.

“Uh, okay, fine. Whatever. I’m going back to bed.”

He turned on his heel and marched up the stairs, ignoring Logan’s calls about maintaining a proper sleep schedule, as he tried to stop thinking about what he’d just witnessed.

It wasn’t working. All he could think about now was tickling. How often did the Light Sides tickle each other? Was it often? Who was the most ticklish, and who was the best tickler? Was it always the three of them altogether?

Would they let him join, if he asked?

Virgil’s eyes widened at the thought that just ran through his head. No. Absolutely not, no way, don’t pass go and don’t collect $200.

Like, fine, maybe there was a small part of him that was maybe, just a little, interested in the concept of tickling. And... maybe there was an even smaller part of him that found the idea of being tickled by the Light Sides-- any of them-- somewhat intriguing.

But, fuck. He was Anxiety, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t like stuff like that. If he asked to be a part of their stupid little game, they’d never let him live it down.

... But. Maybe if he didn’t ask?

He slowly stopped walking as he thought it over in his head. It wasn’t an awful idea. The Light Sides were weird enough that maybe, if he played his cards right, he might be able to lure them into tickling him without him asking.

Honestly, if the idea had come to him on another day, he probably would’ve shoved it way back to the back of his mind and pretended it had no appeal to him. But he could practically still hear the Light Sides’ laughter ringing in his ears, and as much as he was loathe to admit it, he kinda wanted to be a part of their game. So his plan was made.

~

His first target was Patton, which made sense for a lot of reasons. Patton seemed to tolerate him more than the other Light Sides-- more than tolerate, to be honest; it was as if he actually kinda liked him. Another good thing about Patton was his attitude: while Virgil normally found that much cheer to be a little nauseating, he couldn’t deny that if anyone was going to start an impromptu tickle fight, it would be Patton.

“Thanks for helping me with these cookies, Anxiety!” Patton said, bringing Virgil out of his thoughts and back to the present situation. He leaned against the counter, trying his hardest to appear open and approachable.

“Whatever,” he replied. “I don’t really have anything better to do, so. Uh. Yeah.”

Fuck, why was he always so awkward?

Whatever-- at least Patton didn’t seem to notice or care; instead, he was focused on pulling out all of the supplies and ingredients and laying them on the counter.

“Okay, first up is the dry ingredients!” he instructed. “Kiddo, you wanna hand me the flour?”

Virgil nodded, pushing himself off of the counter. “Where is it?”

“It’s, uh...”

Patton paused, looking around he kitchen, and Virgil smirked a little as he was reminded that the paternal figure wasn’t nearly as good at cooking as he implied.

“Oh! It’s right up there!” he finally chirped, pointing past Virgil to one of the cabinets. Virgil followed his finger to the very top shelf of the cabinet.

His eyes widened. Finally, an opportunity.

As casually as possible, he moved to the cabinet and braced on hand on the counter. The other hand, he raised high in the air, stretching out his entire body and putting himself in a very vulnerable position. He even stood on his tiptoes as he stretched, hoping Patton would take the hint and deliver what Virgil wanted.

He reached for the flour for as long as he reasonably could, but after about ten seconds, he had no choice but to grab it and pull it down. He turned around, only to find Patton carefully measuring out baking soda, not even paying attention to Virgil’s attempts at vulnerability.

Virgil kicked himself internally, and after a moment he moved forward and dropped the flour onto the counter.

“Here,” he said shortly. Patton turned, giving him a wide smile.

“Thanks, bud!” he said earnestly, opening the bag and grabbing his measuring cup. “Wanna do this one for me while I get started on the eggs?”

Virgil blinked. He’d kinda forgotten that his whole excuse for hanging out with Patton was baking cookies. “Um, sure.”

Patton gave him yet another sunny smile, and Virgil felt compelled to give him a small one in return as he accepted the measuring cup from him.

The two worked together, measuring and mixing ingredients as Patton chattered away. It was-- kinda nice, to be real? Like, maybe Virgil should offer to do this more often, and if he weren’t in one of the most massive lee moods he’d ever been in in his life, he’d probably be able to appreciate it more.

“Alright, time to get these babies on a cookie sheet!” Patton announced, handing a big spoon for Virgil to use. “And afterwards, don’t tell Logan, but we’re totally gonna lick the bowl.”

Virgil nodded, but he didn’t wanna give up on his mission just yet. “Um... can I, uh, get anything else for you?”

Patton turned and looked at him, blinking in surprise before his smile brightened.

“Well, sure, kiddo!” he replied. “There are some chocolate chips on the top shelf, do we wanna add some of those?”

He pointed to the cabinet that was right above them, and Virgil’s heart beat faster. This was it.

“Sure,” he replied as casually as possible. “I’ll get them.”

He placed a hand on the counter to brace himself, and raised the arm closest to Patton as high as he could reach, pretending to scrabble around for the bag of chocolate chips for a few seconds longer than necessary. He even angled his body as subtly as he could, so that his midriff was practically in Patton’s face as he left himself totally exposed.

But nothing happened.

Virgil frowned, but after a few seconds grabbed the bag from the cabinet anyway, lowering himself back to the floor as he broke the seal on the baggie.

“Here,” he muttered, passing it to Patton without making eye contact. There was the slightest pause, but then the bag was lifted from his hand with no more than a cheery, “Thanks!”

Virgil felt himself suppress a sigh as he helped Patton mix in the chocolate chips. Well. On one hand, he got to spend some time with Patton (and even got cookies out of the deal). On the other hand, his genius plot to get tickled had failed with his first target. It was time for target number two.

~

The sound of operatic singing through the halls of the Mind Palace lead Virgil directly to his next target.

He sighed as he nibbled on one of the chocolate chip cookies he and Patton had made, trying to dispel some of his nervous energy before he reached the living room. It wasn’t even just nerves about his current... desires (although there were plenty of those inside of him right now) but-- fuck, he didn’t do this, he didn’t hang around in the common areas like the rest of them, and if it would be totally weird for him to even try, and they were gonna get angry at him, and it would make getting to know them even more difficult in the future-- 

“Oh, Anxiety.” 

A voice full of suspicion snapped him back to reality. He blinked and realized that he’d made it to the living room, where Roman was standing with some sheet music in hand, rehearsing for some musical, based on how loudly he’d been singing moments before.

“To what do I owe the displeasure?” he continued, eyes narrowed sharply. Virgil mentally shook himself and put on his trademark ‘evil’ smirk.

“Hey there, Princey,” he drawled, holding out the Tupperware container in his hand. “Wanna cookie?”

Roman peered down at the peace offering like it was a bomb. “From you? What, are they poisoned?”

“Yep, I poisoned the cookies,” Virgil deadpanned. “That’s why I’m eating one right in front of you, genius.”

He counted the look of embarrassed realization on Roman’s face as a small victory. 

“Well-- well, you might’ve poisoned all but one of them, just to throw me off!” Roman added haughtily. “So, ha!” 

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “Ha.” He looked at Roman for a moment more before taking another bite. “Well, you were rude to me, so now you get no cookies.”

“What-- hey!” Roman replied indignantly. He moved to Virgil, but the dark side easily held the box out of reach. “Anxiety! That’s not fair!”

“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder than that to get these cookies,” Virgil said smugly. He was all to aware of how exposed he was making himself-- it would take so little effort for Roman to grab his side, or scribble at his armpit, or...

But, as expected, nothing came of it, and instead Roman moved away with a derisive sniff.

“Whatever,” he said, turning away. “Even if they’re not poisoned, you probably added salt instead of sugar and cumin instead of cinnamon--”

Virgil narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Hey, Patton and I made them together, and they’re actually good, so--"

Suddenly Roman's arm shot out, taking advantage of Virgil's distraction to swipe a cookie from the box. “Ha! Got one, thank you!”

Virgil blinked. “You--"

He cut himself off at the genuinely triumphant grin on Roman's face, and it took more willpower than he would've admitted to keep from smiling along.

"Yes, yes, you’re very smart," he said, flopping on the couch and rolling his eyes. "Shut up.”

As he reclined against the sofa, he let his eyes drift shut (insomnia's a bitch, even for a man on a mission to get wrecked), but very quickly it became clear that the other side was going to make a fuckin' production out of eating this cookie.

“Mmm... Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm!" Roman pondered with his mouth full. He waved his arms emphatically as he continued, "This is just the most scrumptious, the most divine, the most splendiferous cookie I’ve ever--”

Virgil's eyes snapped open. “Are you always this dramatic and loud? I’m trying to relax.”

That caught the creative side's attention. Roman turned to look at Virgil with his regular suspicion back in his eyes.

“Relax? Here?”

His tone made Virgil tense up behind his cocky facade. “What about it?”

A few second went by as Roman looked at him skeptically. “Nothing, it’s just... You’re always in your room, hiding away like a hermit in a cave.”

“Hiding?" Virgil repeated, eyes narrowed. "What, from you? Not likely.”

Roman moved closer, suddenly leaning over Virgil's laid out form and coming just inches away from his face.

“Aw, don't tell me that I scare you, little Anxiety?”

With that one sentence, Virgil mood came back even stronger than before. There was something in Roman’s voice-- either his teasing tone or his babyish words-- that made Virgil’s stomach do a completely rude and uncalled-for flip, but he merely rolled his eyes.

“The only thing scary about you is your ego,” he retorted. He scanned Roman up and down before closing his eyes again. “Otherwise, you’re just soft.”

Roman scoffed, turning to leave. “Shut up.”

“Make me, loser.”

He watched Roman’s back as he froze in place, and slowly the creative side turned back around.

“You wanna say that again?”

Virgil felt his breath catch, but he forced himself to stay calm. Now was his chance.

He opened his eyes, shooting Roman the cockiest smile he could muster.

“What, make me?”

The prince was glowering at him, his arms folded across his chest. When he spoke, it was in a deep, smooth voice that sent a shiver down Virgil’s spine.

“You don’t want me to make you.”

Virgil smirked, folding his arms behind his head and gazing up at Roman with a smug look on his face.

“I’d like to see you try, Princey.”

That was it. Roman’s eyes narrowed, dark and competitive, and Virgil had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing preemptively.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he muttered lowly, stalking over to Virgil and-- holy shit, he actually straddled Virgil’s waist and placed his hands on either side of his torso, and this was happening, this was happening, this was--

“Oh my goodness gracious, there it is!”

Roman voice derailed Virgil’s train of thought, and he blinked in confusion at the creative side, who wasn’t even looking at him anymore.

“What--?”

Roman laughed lightly, reaching over Virgil’s head and pulling something out from between the couch cushions.

“My sketchbook!” he said triumphantly, shifting off of Virgil and flipping through the pages. “Finally, I’ve been looking for it forever. I had this great idea where I can use a mix of paint and glitter glue to--”

Virgil’s head spun with the shift in the conversation as Roman rambled about his newest project. The anticipatory tension in his stomach started to lessen, leaving him feeling dazed and confused.

“Um, you-- so-- you--”

Roman wasn’t even listening to him; he easily stood up from the couch-- and Virgil definitely did not try to lean into his touch as he moved away, shut up-- and moved toward the door.

“I must get started right away! My paintbrushes aren’t going to wait any longer!”

He hurried out of the room, leaving Virgil alone on the couch, face flushed and mind full of visions of how exactly he wanted Roman to use those paintbrushes.

He dropped his face into his hands. Why was this so hard?

~

The rest of the afternoon passed without another little event like that-- Virgil had been so flustered, he’d had to go back to his room for several hours, alternating between screaming into a pillow at his own awkwardness, and daring to reminisce about the feeling of Roman's weight pinning him down.

This was such a bad idea. Not only were there a million ways it could go wrong (he could make a fool of himself, he could genuinely cross someone's boundaries on accident, his plan could be found out and his desires could be rejected-- the list goes on) but now he also had to deal with coming so tantalizing close to what he wants more than anything, only to have it slip just out of his reach.

He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night, flopping back on his bed--

pressed against the couch cushions, Roman easily holding you down with one hand as the other searches all over for the exact spot to make you beg for mercy, which you know he won't give you, he wants to make you scream--

Immediately he shot up again, face flushed. God, he was jumpy tonight, and that was saying something. He stood up, stepping cautiously around the piles of clothes on the floor to work some of his jitters out. He tried to recall some of the simple exercises Logan had shown him once to help relax him before bed: rolling his neck and shoulders, twisting back and forth to crack his back, raising his arms and stretching them high to the sky--

Patton right behind you, grabbing your hands and holding them nice and tight as he laughs and whispers in your ear, taking full advantage of your riding-up shirt to spider all over that one tickle spot just above your belly button--

His arms snapped down with a choked-off gasp.

Okay. Being in his room was fucking with him. That was definitely why he was feeling jittery and twitchy and sensitive to his own shirt rubbing against his skin. No other reason.

... He had to get out of there.

Grabbing his phone and flipping up his hood, Virgil slid back out into the hallway. It was later in the evening, past dinner time (well, past the time the Light Sides had dinner-- his dinner would involve cold leftovers eaten in front of the fridge at 2 AM) and the Mind Palace was quiet.

Well... mostly quiet.

Virgil crept down the hall to the top of the stairs. From the top, he could make out some sound coming from the living room-- no laughter this time, thankfully, but some quiet droning noises coming from the TV. Probably Patton or Roman-- Logan didn't watch much TV.

Virgil stood with one hand clasped to the stair railing like a life line. He gnawed on his lip, a fluttery, delicate feeling lighting up his chest.

He wanted to try this. There were very few things Virgil ever, ever wanted to try... but he wanted to try this. It was clearly something that was normal among the Light Sides, and-- and despite what he'd previously thought, they don't actually... seem to despise his company. This was-- this was something he could ask for, even just to ask, and even he could admit that the idea of one of them saying yes wasn't impossible.

All at once he lunged down the stairs, feet thumping loudly as he got closer to the living room. He would do it-- he'd go right over to the couch and shove his feet onto someone's lap and surely then, surely then, someone would take pity on him and just freaking tickle him already!

Virgil rounded the corner into the living room, and before he could question himself he hopped over the arm of the couch and threw himself down on the cushions, shoving his feet directly onto the lap of the side sitting at the other end of the couch.

Immediately, he felt two inquisitive eyes boring into him in bewilderment.

"... Anxiety?" Logan asked. "Are you alright?"

Aaaaaaand there went all of Virgil's confidence. He hadn't planned for Logan to be there, not now, not when his mood was at an all time high and he was face to face with the person least likely to do anything about it.

Virgil ignored the tense, mortified feeling in his stomach. “Yup.” A beat, and then he pulled out his phone, as if he hadn't just jumped over the couch just to put his feet in Logan's lap--

“Can I... do something for you?” Logan continued.

Yes, you can pull my socks off and hold my ankles down and--

“Nope.”

Silence fell once again. Virgil was all too aware of his body, too tense to move a muscle or disrupt Logan any further.

“Is this comfortable for you? To have your feet on my lap?”

But... he'd come this far, he'd already pushed past the walls he'd built between himself and the other sides. If nothing else, if this plan failed and he never got what he wanted, at least he could say that he tried.

He shrugged. “Yeah."

He felt Logan's eyes on him a moment longer.

“Very well, then.”

Logan turned back to the TV, and Virgil felt himself wavering already. This was maybe his most ill-conceived idea yet-- they weren't even doing anything together, not really, and try as he might he couldn't think of any way to engage Logan in conversation about anything, let alone anything related to tickling--

“Hey, gang!”

Virgil froze, his stomach plummeting. He shot a desperate glance at Logan, but the logical side paid him no mind as Patton and Roman entered the room, carrying snacks and blankets.

“Ah,” Logan said, turning to the two of them without another glance in Virgil’s direction. “I had forgotten that was tonight.”

Virgil couldn’t help letting out a sigh of frustration, making Roman raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, and I suppose you’re just too cool to deign to join our movie night, huh, Doom and Gloom?”

“Now, Roman, don’t be mean,” Patton gently chastised, placing the snacks on the table and beaming down at Virgil. “We’re happy to have you with us, Anxiety! It’s about time you start joining our group activities.”

Like tickle fights? Virgil thought but didn't say. His ever-growing lee mood was making him feel all fuzzy, and all he could think about as he looked between the three other sides was Patton’s hands, Logan’s fingers, and Roman’s voice, all teasing and tormenting him in unison.

“Whatever,” he finally said, forcing himself to shrug blithely. “I don’t really care--”

He cut himself off with a choked gasp as Roman leaned down and abruptly picked up Virgil into a bridal carry. They stayed still as Patton sat down next to Logan, rearranging the blankets and chattering innocently about what movie to watch, but all Virgil could focus on was the feeling of Roman’s hands on his body and the teasy, squirmy feeling building up in his chest and stomach.

“Are you staying with us or not?” Roman asked lowly, and Virgil had to fight the urge to squeak as his warm breath hit his ear. 

“Uh-- sure.”

Roman hummed, and then he was leaning forward, dropping Virgil into Patton’s lap with his feet resting on Logan’s thighs.

“Woah!” Patton chuckled, looking at Virgil with amusement. “Comfy, kiddo?”

Virgil face flushed red. “I-- I didn’t--”

“He’s gonna stay anyway, and we all know he likes to sit in weird places, so,” Roman explained, flopping down on the couch next to Patton and throwing an arm over the back of the couch. He pulled a pillow into his lap and gently pushed Virgil back by his shoulder, until the Dark Side somehow found himself stretched between all three of them on the couch.

“Anxiety, is this acceptable for you?” Logan asked distantly, and Virgil peeked up to find him observing him closely. Virgil froze in his gaze for what felt like far too long, but eventually managed a short nod.

Patton clapped. “Awesome! Now we all get to hang out together. It’ll be so fun!”

He leaned forward to grab the remote, and Virgil swore he could feel his hands as they ghosted over his stomach. He squirmed minutely, both hoping that no one would call him out on how flustered he was, and praying that they would.

This was way more than he was expecting.

"Ah," Logan said as the movie began playing. "I do love this opening number."

He moved like he was folding his hands in his lap, but really, he placed his hands directly onto the tops of Virgil's ankles. The music started, and Logan-- Logan tapped out a rhythm against Virgil's skin, matching the tempo of the music on the TV.

Virgil clenched his jaw so quickly he wondered if they could hear it. It... didn't tickle, not really. The touch was too light, too quick, too inconsequential to really light his nerves in any way. But the anticipation was there, bubbling inside him, and he found himself shifting his legs restlessly at the touch.

"Is something wrong, Anxiety?" Logan asked, and Virgil paused. It-- it must've been his imagination, that spark in Logan's eye that matched the spark in Virgil's stomach. "No," he said, just slightly breathless. Logan hummed and returned his eyes to the screen.

Then his hands moved: one hand tapping more firmly against his ankle, and the other running its nails along the top of Virgil's foot.

Virgil tensed every muscle in his legs; it was so much worse this time-- not only did being stretched out make Virgil feel so much more vulnerable, but now there were two other people he had to hide his reactions from. Roman was right there, for God's sake, his face mere inches above Virgil's-- Virgil had to turn his head completely toward the TV just to hide the small smile that was already on his face.

He stayed in that position as the movie played, but he couldn't tell you anything that was happening on the screen. All he could focus on was Logan's fingers as they slowly migrated from trailing the top of his foot, to tapping directly over his socked toes, to drawing delicate circles along the ball of his foot. His other hand stayed on Virgil's ankle-- like a restraint.

Virgil felt flushed, and prayed that the dark lighting of the room would cover it. Distantly he heard Patton laughing, and he could feel Roman's chest rumble where it was pressed against his shoulder.

And then he felt Logan take all five fingers right to the center of Virgil's sole and tickle.

"Nah-hahaha!" Virgil screamed, yanking his leg back and just barely missing Patton's face with his knee. He felt both Patton and Roman jump underneath him.

"Anxiety, are you okay?" Patton asked in a panicked voice. He didn't even seem bothered that Virgil had almost thrown his knee into his nose.

Roman looked down at Virgil with bewilderment. "Jiminy Crickets, is the movie that funny to you?"

“Ah,” Logan said. “My hypothesis was correct.”

Virgil froze.

Patton quirked his head. “You have a hypothesis?”

Roman eyed down at Virgil suspiciously for just a moment more before gesturing to Logan. “Please, Teach, explain."

Alarm bells went off in Virgil's head. He was suddenly desperate to leave the entire situation before it was too late, but Logan's hand resting on his ankle felt like a vice he couldn't escape.

“Well," Logan began in his lecture voice, "for the past few hours, Anxiety has been expressing an interest in becoming closer with the three of us through quality time, amicable banter, and excessive physical contact. The physical contact is really what gave it away, but it all comes down to the fact that this change in behavior occurred immediately after Anxiety walked in on our... roughhousing this morning.”

Virgil was distracted by the way Logan tried to avoid saying the word tickle (and man, Virgil thought, it’d be so much fun to see him forced to say it, oh my god shut up brain) but Patton’s gasp of understanding brought him back to his present situation. He looked away from the moral side, but to his distress he found himself face to face with Roman, who was looking at him with a growing interest.

“Wait a minute,” he said slowly. Virgil squirmed.

“Shut up.”

“Are you telling me--”

“Princey, I swear to God, if you don’t stop talking right now--”

Suddenly Patton’s hand was on his leg, his fingers pressing in just above his knee, and Virgil’s words turned into a choked gasp.

Patton quirked his head. “Are you ticklish, kiddo?”

Virgil’s mouth opened and shut. “I-- I--”

And of course, Logan chose that moment to drag his nails all the way down Virgil’s foot, the hand resting on Virgil's ankle suddenly tightening to keep him from jerking away as his fingers wiggled right against Virgil's tickle spots.

Virgil couldn’t help it: he squealed, loudly, and immediately buried his face in his hands.

“That seems to be the answer to that question,” Logan said, sounding far too pleased with himself for Virgil’s taste. “The more important question, however, is whether or not Anxiety wants to be tickled. Although I believe we know that answer to that question, as well.”

Even with his face behind his hands, Virgil felt all three pairs of eyes on him.

"I--" he squeaked, then coughed, blatantly stalling for time as his mind spun in circles. "I-- um-- you don't-- I guess--"

"Kiddo, is that really what you've been trying to do all day long?" Patton asked gently. Virgil made one short, choked sound, and nodded rapidly.

"... So when I told you to be quiet earlier," Roman said slowly, "and you said 'make me'... that was you trying to get tickled?"

A beat, and then Virgil nodded again. He quickly debated the merits of allowing himself to be swallowed by the floor.

"Well..."

Logan's voice was laced with something that Virgil was wholly unprepared for.

"It would be a shame," he continued nonchalantly, "if Anxiety came so far out of his figurative shell only to not receive any recognition or praise for how difficult that must have been. Perhaps some positive reinforcement will help encourage him to continue this behavior in the future."

Logan didn't even have to finish his sentence before Roman dove for Virgil's wrists. Virgil yanked as hard as he could, but Roman was in a better position and easily managed to pull his arms above his head. Immediately Virgil's fight or flight instincts kicked in, and he was about to start literally kicking (even though his brain was screaming at his body to shut up stop it play dead holy shit they're giving you what you want) before Patton leaned as far over his torso as he could manage, keeping his middle pinned in place.

"Anxiety..." he cooed, actually cooed, and yup Virgil was totally gonna die. "Wanna look at me, sweetheart?"

It took Virgil a second to realize that his eyes were screwed shut in anticipation. He peeked out only to find Patton looking at him with the most soft, loving, mughy-gushy expression Virgil had ever seen, especially directed towards him. It made him feel like he was melting.

"When we play our tickle games," he continued, "we always say 'red' when we need a break. Is that okay for you, too?"

Virgil couldn't even speak, so he gave a jerky nod.

"For safety, we should proceed slowly," Logan said, "in order not to overwhelm him." The way Logan was talking to the others like Virgil wasn't there sent a small thrill down his spine.

"I disagree," Roman replied. "I think our poor, sweet Anxiety has waited much too long already." His upside-down grin made Virgil want to spit curses up at him, except he was pretty sure the only thing that would come out if he opened his mouth were pathetic squeals.

"Where should we begin?" the creative side continued, tracing his thumbs around the soft skin of Virgil's wrist. "His... bright red ears? Or his wiggly hips? Or his bouncy little tummy?"

"Fuck off," Virgil gasped.

Roman clicked his tongue. "Temper! Patton doesn't like swearing!"

"Oh, let him fuss," Patton replied. "This is all very overwhelming for him, it's okay! If I had known you liked tickling too, Anxiety, I would've gladly done it for you a long time ago!"

"I don't--"

Then Virgil gasped, and fell into helpless frantic giggles. In unison Roman and Patton swiveled their heads to look at Logan.

"There's no use in lying now, Anxiety," he said calmly, his fingers flicking and fluttering all over Virgil's soles. "We all know that if you didn't like tickling, you wouldn't let us do this at all. Ergo you must enjoy tickling, more specifically being tickled, otherwise you wouldn't have put yourself in this position in the first place. Does that make sense?"

Virgil couldn't answer, because he was in heaven. Or maybe hell. Logan's fingers were deft and torturous, flitting back and forth faster than Virgil could process. Belatedly he wiggled his feet, trying to hide one behind the other and continuously failing. And damn Logan for real for being so observant, because when he noticed the spot on Virgil's arches that made him kick the hardest, he focused all of his attention there, switching between his feet as fast as he could.

"Wait wait wait, waitwaitwhaihaihaiait!" Virgil couldn't believe the noises that were coming out of his mouth right now. He had never laughed like this around the light sides-- had barely ever laughed at all-- and now they were getting to hear him like this, his giggles embarrassing and dorky and loud--

So loud, in fact, that he barely even heard Logan say, "Patton, would you like a turn?" before ten fingers dove in to vibrate all over his vulnerable, ticklish stomach.

"Nah-ahahahaha!" The shriek that left his lips shocked everyone in the room, and Virgil used the confusion to yank his arms out of Roman's grasp, sitting up and trying to launch off the couch in the same motion. He would've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for Patton's meddling arms around his waist.

"Woah!" Patton laughed out. "Easy now, kiddo! Don't wanna waist this chance to get tickled!" On cue he tazed his fingers where they laid in the divots of Virgil's sides, causing the anxious side to jerk and flop like a worm on a string. His hands grappled desperately for Patton's, but he made no progress getting them off before Roman's hand entered his vision.

"Come back here, Gay-Lee Shrilliams!" Roman sang. Blindly, he grappled for Virgil's wrists, grabbing one and yanking him back towards Roman's end of the couch. Virgil was disoriented, and took the time to inhale greedy breaths before he was suddenly flipped around again. Now Logan was sat straddled over his shins, Patton kneeling on the floor beside him, and Roman's chest was pressed against his back with his wrists in each hand.

For a moment there was silence.

"Well," Logan said curtly. "Let's try that again, shall we?"

And immediately his hands were clamped above Virgil's knees, and they were off to the races.

"Ahahahahahahaha!"

"There we are," Logan said, a hint of smugness in his voice as he prodded up and down Virgil's thighs. "We'll have to avoid any further interruptions if we're going to find all of your ticklish spots, Anxiety. Please behave yourself."

"I'm-- you-- nahahaha!" Virgil squealed; Patton had placed his hands on either side of his ribs, and was now squeezing them as if Virgil were a particularly squeaky bagpipe.

"Hold him down!" he called affectionately. "He's a squirmer!"

Virgil gasped through his laughter as the other two followed Patton's instruction; he could feel them rearranging their positions on his arms and legs in order to keep him even more stuck than he already was. Blearily, he turned onto his side as much as possible, facing the back of the couch and weakly attempting to hide his stomach from his ticklers.

"Uh oh, where are you going?" Roman asked, all sugar sweetness. "Is someone trying to hide away? Hm? Big bad Anxiety trying to run away from the tickles?"

Without warning he released one of Virgil's hands, and took it upon himself to use his free hand to investigate all over Virgil's exposed armpit. Virgil spasmed and shrieked. His free hand might as well have not been there at all, considering how absolutely useless it was at protecting his armpit, or his ribs, or--

"Uh oh," Patton cooed, voice sickeningly sweet, and Virgil could only look on in giddy terror as he wiggled his fingers in the air. "Don't think I just forgot about that tummy, Anxiety!"

Just like before, Patton pressed all ten fingers into Virgil's stomach fat, wiggling mercilessly; unlike before, Virgil couldn't shoot himself off the couch with Patton himself kneeling in the way. Logan and Roman had stopped their tickles, but only so they could restrain him even further to avoid another escape attempt.

"Nihihihiehehehehehe!" Virgil didn't even know what he was begging for anymore. For less tickles, or more?

"A ticky-ticky-ticky-ticky-ticky!" Patton sang. "Who's a ticklish goober? Is it Anxiety? I think it is!" He giggled as he easily avoided Virgil's free hand, darting back and forth as it fruitlessly tried to cover his stomach from Patton's wiggling fingers.

Through his teary eyes, Virgil accidentally made eye contact with Roman. He immediately regretted it: both because he saw something akin to actual affection in Princey's eyes (which, gross) but more because he watched that affection slip away to smug mischief.

"Hey, don't be greedy, Padre!" Roman announced. "I want a turn!"

And with that he let go of Virgil's other hand, but the anxious side had no time to do anything about that before he, too, was digging his fingers into Virgil's stomach. Virgil squealed again, arching hid back and curling in on himself over and over in an endless loop. While Patton had no trouble attending to Virgil's tummy pudge, Roman's hands were positioned at the top of his stomach just below his ribs, and he had no issues at all jumping up to pinch and massage along the sensitive bones every few seconds.

"Fascinating," Logan said, and oh god, why did his voice make Virgil feel even more trapped than he already was? "Patton, scoot down a bit. I'd like to try something."

Virgil felt Patton slide his hands slightly up Virgil's torso, still plucking away at his oversensitive nerves like guitar strings.

"Slow down for a moment," Logan instructed, and the others listened, thank God. Virgil took the opportunity to breathe, his eyes screw tightly shut. He couldn't handle seeing Roman's smirk, or Patton's giddiness, or Logan's studying stare.

"I've noticed something in his reactions," the logical side continued. "And I have another hypothesis."

Virgil should've opened his eyes.

If he had, he might've been prepared for when Logan's fingers descended all around his bellybutton and squeezed.

Virgil shrieked. He screamed. He yelled and hollered and wailed and every other synonym he could think of, except he couldn't think at all because Logan was flexing his fingers over and over and over again with terrible, ruthless accuracy. Virgil used all his strength to try to curl up, but with Logan on his hips, Roman behind his back, and Patton in the middle, there was absolutely nothing he could do to protect his tummy from ticklish agony.

"I think we found his favorite spot!" Patton cooed.

Yeah, no fucking shit, Virgil thought wildly. He could barely breathe, his face hurt from smiling, his head was melty with joy, and his innards felt as if he had swallowed a dozen butterflies that continued to dance around inside of him. He felt trapped, and teased, and embarrassed, and desperate, and he--

And he loved it. Oh my God, he loved it. Had he been missing out on this all along?

It took a long, long time before Virgil realized that Logan had stopped. His hands, warm and heavy, laid flat on his stomach, and his palms rubbed firmly against his skin. He blinked his eyes opened-- when had he closed them?-- and realized he was practically lying down again, having slid so much he'd ended up resting his head against Roman's thigh. It took another minute for him to realize that his hand felt strange; looking over, he flushed anew when he saw Patton's large hand wrapped around his own, fingers intertwined. Did Virgil do that?

Reality jolted back into him, and like a bear trap he sprang up and closed in on himself, shrinking away from any touch.

"Um-- I'm done-- red," he stuttered. God, why was he a loser? They had already stopped tickling him, he didn't need to say the safeword-- but his skin still felt alight with nerves, and despite how the whole experience had made him feel, he really didn't think he could handle anymore tonight.

Virgil didn't know why it surprised him that all three of moved back, Logan and Roman scooting to either end of the couch and Patton leaning back on his haunches. It surprised him, but it shouldn't. Because they're them. The light sides, the "others" as he'd always thought of them-- they were nice. Fun. And they cared.

"So..."

And of course, there was Princey to ruin it. Virgil dared to shoot his eyes over and was met with the smuggest goddamn look he's ever seen on Roman's consistently smug face.

"Was it everything you hoped for, sweet Anxiety?" he crowed. Immediately Virgil dropped his face into his hands and groaned.

"Aw, there he goes! Too much sweet talking for such a sourpuss like you?"

Virgil hissed at him, only to hear twin snorts from the other two Sides. He looked up, betrayed.

"Apologies, Anxiety," Logan said, biting his bottom lip as he smiled. Patton was covering his own mouth with both hands. "I can assure you we hold no judgement or mockery for you. It's just that this entire display was... objectively adorable."

"Noooooo..." Virgil whined. He slid down in his seat and covered his face again. His cheeks burned against his palms.

It was only a few seconds before he felt a tap on his knee, and after a moment he lowered his hands enough to peek out beyond his fingers. Patton was there, ducking his head a bit to catch Virgil's eye.

"Was that fun?" he asked gently. A beat. Virgil nodded. "Would you like to do it again?"

Virgil snapped his arms down to his sides and slammed back against his seat. Patton raised his hands placatingly.

"In the future!" he said. "I just mean..."

He looked at the other two Sides before confirming, "Well, I think we all had fun. And we can work out what exactly you're comfortable with later, but... I hope you'd like to do that again sometime."

"Please--" Virgil blurted. "I mean. Yes. I want to. Again."

"Good," Logan said. "Now lay back down."

He looked over, inquisitive, only to flush again as Logan leaned back and patted his lap.

"You can't seriously think I'm gonna fall for that."

"We are not going to tickle you again unless you explicitly ask for it," Logan said (and wow, now Virgil was gonna have to store that away in his anxiety-fantasies, not getting tickled anymore unless he uses his words). "You've just been exerted very quickly in a very short amount of time, you've been anxious and twitchy all day prior to this evening, and even now you're struggling to remain upright."

Virgil blinked; it was true. His head was lolled back against the cushion. His body was tired, it's true, but his mind felt somewhat hazy, somewhat calm. He blinked slowly.

"... Are you gonna put the movie back on?"

Roman scoffed. "Of course we are. We know you need background noise, Sleeping Beauty."

Right. Of course they knew that. Because they knew him, now.

Virgil fidgeted, then nodded. "I'd... I'd like that."

And he did.

[lefaystrent]

Janus stumbles upon a tiny black kitten.

It's just sitting there, a tiny ball of adorable floof on the sidewalk edge. Janus glances around, as if someone will miraculously appear on the abandoned street to claim ownership. But he's in the mindscape, and honestly the street only goes in a square around Thomas's apartment building. There's only so much real estate you can fit into one man's head. At any rate, the other sides hardly venture out here. This kitten is totes fucked unless Janus does something.

"Oh I couldn't possibly," Janus demures at the narrator. "Besides, it's imaginary. I'm sure it'll be fine on its own."

"Mew," chirps the ball of floof and emerges out of its loafing position to waddle in Janus's direction.

Janus, lord of the lies and all things deception, evil mastermind extradonaire, feels his breath hitch.

Just look at the little paws.

"No!" Janus exclaims, shaking out of his cute-induced stupor. "The last pet I had was Sacagawea the hamster, and we all know what happened to her! Not that I care about teacup sized critters. Begone, little beast."

"Mew," another plaintive meow comes as the kitten reaches his ankles. It swats at him with its stubby claws, trying and failing to climb his pants leg.

"I am a gentleman of standards," Janus tells the cat seriously.

The puny kitten looks up at him imploringly with round-saucer like eyes.

Janus drops to the ground and coos, "Oh no, you're meeting all of my standards!"

The kitten starts up a punitive-engine of a purr as Janus scoops it up in his gloved hands. It chirps intermittently and Janus's ice-cold snake heart melts.

"I'm not keeping you," Janus promises fondly. "This doesn't go beyond a simple scratching. Do I make myself clear?"

"Meeew," the kitten squeaks and Janus nearly falls over himself to bring the kitten's face to his so he can rub their noses together.

The next day the sides are in the midst of filming a video with Thomas in his living room when Logan cuts himself off in the middle of citing his sources to say, "What was that noise?"

"Sorry, I ate burritos earlier," Remus apologizes, not appearing very apologetic.

"No, it sounded like–" Logan cuts himself off again as everyone hears the sound this time.

A muffled mewing.

All eyes fall on Janus in his corner. He stands there, seemingly unaffected, but upon closer inspection with eyeballs, one can see how stiff his posture is.

Patton peers closer with his balls of eyes. "Jan...is this that mewing trend all the kids are doing nowadays?"

"That is not what that means," Roman says, but he's mostly distracted with staring at Janus. "Wanna tell us something, Cat in the Hat?"

The deceitful side bristles. "I haven't the foggiest what you mean."

Janus's hat meows. More than that, there's something shuffling underneath.

Thomas's mouth is slightly agape as he asks, "Janus, did your hat just meow?"

"It did nothing of the sort."

"Kiddo, do you have a kitty cat under there or are you just happy to see us?"

"I– since when do you make jokes like that?"

"Jokes like what?" Patton blinks back.

Janus rolls his eyes and brushes imaginary lint off his imaginary shoulder. "Nevermind. Weren't we discussing Thomas's never-ending cycle of conundrums?"

"Yeeeah," Virgil drags the word out. "You can't just act like we all can't see your hat moving."

"Yes, and we all heard it meowing," Logan muses, ignoring Janus's automatic hissing of, "You heard nothing!"

"But why the hat?" Thomas ponders.

Logan nods, also curious, "Is this a coping mechanism after the loss of Sacagawea the hamster?"

"May she rest in peace, amen," Patton prays while Roman performs a Catholic cross over himself.

Thomas glances at all of them, "You guys know that I never actually owned a pet hamster, right?"

"Dude, too soon," Virgil chides him, and Thomas has the consideration to look abashed.

Janus crosses his arms to look cool. He doesn't. He keeps tipping his head this way and that to keep his hat from toppling over.

"This is a perfectly normal way for me to stand," Janus says.

Roman secretly slides Remus five bucks. Remus dives onto the floor and army crawls behind Janus. Somehow everyone but Janus sees it.

"By all means, do keep staring," Janus says, guarded and on edge and his rolls definitely tootsied. What.

Remus rises up behind him. Off comes the hat.

"Mew!"

"Oh my goodness, that's so precious!!" Patton squeals.

The kitten is belly flopped on top of Janus's head. It's so small that it almost gets lost in the hair, if not for the stark contrast against Janus's lighter color.

"Hey Virgil, it looks just like you!" Roman crows, earning himself a well deserved middle finger.

"Drat, you've uncovered my secret," Janus drones and gives Remus a withering look that promises they will exchange words later. Remus is too wrapped up in giving little chin scritches to the kitty to be bothered.

Thomas also inevitably succumbs to cuteness overload, but he does manage to ask why the heck Janus felt like he needed to keep the cat a secret.

"Because Thomas," Janus throws his arm out to make his cloak flare out. For the drama. Then he flourishes his hand towards the cat on his head. "You weren't ready to meet this new side of yourself, but I guess the cat is out of the bag."

"The cat was under a hat, to clarify."

"LITERALLY NO ONE ASKED YOU, LOGAN!"

"No one ever does, and yet that would solve over half of Thomas's problems."

"When you mean new side, does that mean...?" Thomas asks Janus, his voice filling with wonder. His eyes are getting that crazed glint in his eyes, like he's five seconds away from becoming a Florida Man meme. The background music ramps up into a crescendo at this new epiphany. Thomas knew there were more sides he hadn't met, but to think–!

"No, no, no," Logan says, waving his hands in an X motion. "This is a misunderstanding created from Janus's misleading statement. Don't do this–whatever it is you're doing. Stop it."

Virgil weighs in as well, "Hate to break it to you, but your most animal side is Janus."

"Does this mean Thomas is a furry?" Remus gasps.

"Yesss," Janus hisses out. Then he thinks about it. "I mean no. I mean– what?"

"So what's the baby's name?" Patton asks. He has come close too to join Remus in the giving of scratchies. A noble cause!

"It's a black cat, so why not Catman?" Roman offers. "I am the darkness. I am the night. I am...Catman!"

"Very original," Virgil praises, but it's just subtly sarcastic enough that Roman gives an heartfelt, "Thank you!"

"Can I pet?" Thomas asks, hand reaching out hopefully.

The sides grimace and wince.

"Oooh, yeah, about that..."

"Sorry, man."

"You can't actually..."

"Imaginary, remember?"

"Maybe if you think really hard and imagine touching fur..."

"Don't patronize him. Not with this."

"Yeah, kitty buisness is serious buisness."

"Are we ever going to return to the original topic?"

"Cats take priority. Don't you know that?"

"By what parameters? And by whom?"

"It's like when a cat falls asleep in your lap. By law, you cannot disturb it. On pain of death."

"A bit overdramatic, but not wrong. It's an actual thing."

"Achoo!"

"Bless you."

"Thank you!"

"Patton, why are you petting a cat when you know you're allergic?"

"You would think that imaginary cats wouldn't agitate allergies."

"Thomas has a really vivid imagination."

"Why does everything innocent sound dirty coming out of your mouth?"

"Speaking of mouths and coming–"

Thomas, Patton, and Roman all shove their hands over their ears and scream, "LA LA LA!"

With everyone distracted (as part of Janus's master plan), Janus uses the moment of ensuing chaos to skeddadle away.

They never do learn the kitty's name, but they do eventually discover a horde of cats in Janus's room at some point, but that's another story.

[firewolf111]

Projecting onto Roman time!

Janus: Are you okay?

Roman: I'm fine.

Janus: You know, for some reason, I do believe you.

Roman: *growing frustrated* Well, what do you want me to say?

Janus: The truth.

Roman: *chuckling* That's ironic coming from you.

Janus: *sighs* I didn't come here to fight, so if you could just-

Roman: Just what? Huh? You know what?! *throws hands up in the air* Fine. You want the truth?!

Janus: Yes. That isn't what I asked for.

Roman: The truth is that it doesn't matter whether or not I'm okay.

Janus: Yes, it does. I'm not sure why-

Roman: No, it doesn't. Don't you get it?! I have to be okay. I don't have a choice! I'm supposed to be their hero. Everyone thinks I'm so strong, well I'm not. I'm a weak coward. But the one thing being a coward has taught me is how to avoid my problems. How to just *snaps fingers* turn off my emotions. Place a glass screen between them and me. How to feel them without feeling them, like knowing something in the back of your mind without being aware of it

Janus: Because that sounds sooo healthy.

Roman: It's not. I know it's not. But I have no choice. I have to be their hero. I don't know how not to be. They never taught me how not to. It's all I ever was. It's all they ever expected from me. Whether they know it's what they expect or not, it has become my role. And if I don't do it, who will? Who will keep them safe? So what if it hurts? Life hurts. They hurt as well. They have their own problems, and I can help them with it. I have to. It's who I am.

Janus: *extremely concerned* Roman-

Roman: *continuing without notice* It's who I have to be. For them. I have to stay strong, even if I'm not. And I'm not. I'm really not. But I'm good at pretending. I saw they needed a hero, so I took that role. I didn't even realize I had taken the role at first. And now, now that I realize, it's my whole identity. It's the person I've become, the only value I have. It's all they know me as. And that's okay, because they need a hero.

Janus: That isn't okay. Listen-

Roman: I can be that hero. Their problems are worse, right? That's why they unintentionally forced me into this role. Because I dont have any major problems. So, who cares if I don't know how to fight for myself? I can fight for them. I'm their hero. I have to be.

Roman: *leaning on the wall, panting* It's who I am. It's my point of existence.

Janus: ... Oh, sweetheart. What have we done to you?

[part-time-zombie]

Headcanon/fic idea incoming:

Since logan isn't the best at directly verbalizing his feelings, he instead uses flower language to do the talking for him by leaving coded messages for the others in the form of bouquets.

The problem comes from the fact that aside from logan, only roman actually knows what the flowers mean, so every other side is now confused and panicking about if logan is flirting or not.

One day roman gives logan a return bouquet in front of the others and logan immediately starts discussing scheduling with him about an idea roman's been having. It's only then that the others figure out they've been having a whole flower conversation about projects the entire time (actually, roman had to explain it to them).

Now roman regularly wakes up to one or more sides at his door with their bouquets asking him to translate what it means.

After remus once really pissed logan off he found a massive collection of tansy and basil* waiting outside his door, with the note "thinking of you". he's lucky roman found him and told him to hide, because that note was far from flirtatious in this context.

Roman taught him how to make an apology bouquet after that.

(*from what I found, basil means hate and tansy is hostility)

[loganslowdown4]

*in an alternate April 13th, 2019*

All Sides: *burst into Janus’ room* SURPRISE!

Janus: AAAAHHHHH WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?? Go away! Leave me alone!

Patton: No Jan, listen, after much deliberation, we decided to take Thomas to the callback today after all!

Patton: *whispers to Logan* Was that the right word?

Logan: *nods*

Janus: What? Really? Are you all serious??

Patton: Yep! Let’s just get in the car and go!

*they all pile in and drive to Burger King*

All: SURPRISE!

Janus: Ok, what the hell is this?

Logan: *ahem* Patton wanted to have a little dinner for you here as a surprise. In appreciation for you trying to protect Thomas as we all do. He also thought you’d appreciate the deception, as that’s your, um, ‘thing’—

Janus: I see. *to Patton* Thank you. You lying successfully is actually a huge gift to me. *grins* It must have been very hard for you to say all that—

Patton: It was! But it’s no lie that we love and appreciate you!

Janus: And to you that meant treating me to… Burger King?

Patton: Only the best for our pal!

Janus: Uh huh. Well, not that I don’t appreciate this but… weren’t we supposed to go to the wedding this evening?

Logan:

Roman:

Virgil:

Remus:

Patton: Oh… shit.

Janus: *grins* Even better gift than surprise burgers. Profanity from Patton.

[oliviaischillin1204]

tickletober day 25- “new discovery”

word count: 1,729 words

i think this actually started as a prompt for tickletober 2020 (lmfAooooo) so i’m glad i could finish it now!!

Janus sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in as many minutes. He’d been a having a moral conundrum, and he’d only recently figured out how to go about solving it. Or, well, hopefully solving it. Maybe the solution he’d come up with would make everything worse instead. That’s always a possibility.

As if he could read Janus’ mind, Janus’ phone buzzed with another text from Patton. He stole a quick glance at the kitchen doorway before tapping the screen.

Patton: Have U told him yet???

Janus: u know he doesn’t wake up before noon

Patton: LOL!

Patton: Well, Jan The Man, whatever happens, I got UR back!

Patton: high_five.gif

Patton: fist_bump.gif

Patton: puppy_saying_yeah.gif

Janus: ,,,,, thank u patton

Janus sighed yet again-- but this time his sigh was followed by a matching yawn from behind him.

He slammed his phone down on the table and whirled around. “Good morning!” Fuck, he was never that positive. He had to dial it back. “You look like shit.” Well. That’s one way of doing it.

Luckily, Virgil either didn’t notice or didn’t care to comment on Janus’ jumpy behavior-- he yawned again and made a beeline for the coffee pot, where Janus had graciously prepared another pot just in time for Virgil’s late rise.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he muttered as he poured his coffee. “Talk or shut your brain up.”

Janus snorted. Well, if Virgil didn’t care about being indelicate, then Janus sure wouldn’t.

“I found your blog.”

Virgil sighed, not looking up as his scooped a copious amount of sugar into the mug. “Yes, I remember, I got drunk enough to show my 2013 era Tumblr to Roman, and he got drunk enough to send it to the group chat. Cool reminder.”

“Not that one-- although your Superwholock fic was surprisingly well written,” Janus said. “I found... another blog. Of yours.”

“My anime blog?” Virgil asked. “Don’t you already follow that one?”

“Another blog,” Janus hissed. “A blog you haven’t told us about.”

With his mug only an inch away from his mouth, Virgil froze.

It was enough to tell Janus everything he needed to know.

“I don’t have any other blogs,” Virgil said, quickly bringing the mug up to his face and taking a sip.

“Virgil. Please don’t insult me by lying so boldly in my face.”

“Who’s lying?” he replied. “Not me. I’m standing up, not lying... down, that is-- oh, dad joke, ha! Speaking of which I think I’m supposed to be meeting Patton for, uh, brunch, right now--”

He darted out of the room, nearly sloshing his coffee in his haste. Janus heard his bedroom door slam shut, and he sighed.

Well, he wasn’t going to sit around and let Virgil stew in his own nerves. He got up from the table and moved to the hallway, coming to a stop right in front of Virgil’s bedroom door. He heard no movement coming from inside, so he figured Virgil was probably frozen in panic as he thought about what Janus had said.

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” Janus said bluntly through the door. “Or tell anyone. Patton knows I had something important to tell you, but I made absolutely no references to having found a secret of yours at all. It’s just me.”

He knew that still probably wasn’t overly comforting-- Janus was, admittedly, crafty and manipulative, and he often used information as leverage to get what he wanted. But given how genuinely upset Virgil seemed to be at the mere idea that his secret blog had been found out, Janus wanted to prove that he really wasn’t going to tell anyone. And unfortunately, he knew exactly what he had to do to prove it.

“A secret for a secret, an eye for an eye,” he continued, steeling his nerves. “Because, honestly, you... aren’t the only person in this household with... that specific kind of... interest.”

Again, he heard no noise, but Janus could picture the way Virgil’s face probably shifted from blind panic to slight confusion. Janus sighed.

“How do you think I found your tickle blog in the first place?” he asked drily.

Janus ignored the urge to cringe as he said the word aloud-- this conversation was not about his embarrassing secret interests, thank you, it was about Virgil’s. He didn’t have the chance to ponder on that further, because suddenly the door clicked open in front of him, as if Virgil had opened it and hurried away.

He stepped in, and there was Virgil on his bed, lying on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow.

“You can block me if you want,” Janus said, moving to perch on the edge of the mattress. “Just let me type in my URL so you don’t see it.”

“How much did you see?” Virgil asked instead, voice muffled and defeated.

“About ten posts,” Janus said. “And no, you didn’t accidentally doxx yourself in any way. I’m just extremely clever.”

Virgil didn’t respond. At least he didn’t seem to be actively panicking, just humiliated. Janus himself was starting to feel a bit warm; he’d seen some... rather interesting posts before he’d realized whose blog he was looking at. Apparently he and Virgil had more in common than he’d realized.

“Virgil, I’m not going to bullshit you,” he said quickly, before his nerve was lost. “This sucks, and if it’d happened to me I’d break your computer in half, so I can imagine how you are feeling right now. But the fact of the matter is that we are both switches and we are home alone, and if you consent I would very much like to tickle you right now.”

Finally Virgil whipped around, eyes catching Janus’ with a wild look.

“What?” he squawked, voice cracking.

“Or you tickle me,” Janus said. “I’m really not picky.”

“This-- this is-- Janus.”

“Virgil,” Janus said firmly. “Take your pick, lee or ler?”

“I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack,” Virgil hissed. Janus could practically feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.

“I’m trying to avoid an outcome like that,” Janus said through gritted teeth. “By being disgustingly open about what I want, in the hopes that we can bypass the anxiety and awkwardness and humiiation by treating this all as if it’s perfectly normal.”

Silence hung over the room for a moment as Virgil took in the words. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with the blanket.

“I don’t know...”

Janus leaned in to catch Virgil’s mumble. Okay, that’s not a complete no. He could work with that.

“What don’t you know?” he asked with as much patience as he could muster.

Virgil continued to fiddle for a few seconds before he spoke. “Like, right now...?”

“No time like the present,” Janus replied. “Of course, we can wait if you’re not comfortable right now. Then again, I wonder how it would feel to wait in this room knowing that I’m right across the hall, ready to tickle you.”

He smirked when Virgil’s eyes snapped up towards him, a blazing blush crowning his face. “Janus!”

“What? You know I’m right. I could leave this room right now, but all your little fantasies in your head about what I could do to you would feel so delightfully real-- it’d be like I was still here.”

Nothing came out of Virgil’s mouth but a strain of choked noises. Belatedly, he covered his face with his hands. “Come on--”

“I mean, I really didn’t look very far through your blog before. I still have so many questions about this little sensitivity of yours.”

Now Virgil shoved his face back into his pillow, probably with the goal of hiding the soft whines that were now coming out of his mouth. It didn’t work.

“But, of course,” Janus continued, “I can’t touch you until you agree. You won’t get one little tickle from me until I hear you say so out loud.”

Virgil went silent for so long Janus considered checking that he hadn’t suffocated, but finally a muffled mutter came from his pillow that sounded suspiciously like the word please.

“Hm?” Janus said, because despite everything he wasn’t going to be too nice to Virgil. “I couldn’t quite catch that. You’ll have to speak up.”

More muttering, this time sounding closer to cursing, came from the pillow. Janus enjoyed drawing things out as much as the next ler, but he was getting pretty antsy. How to draw Virgil out?

Suddenly his mind flashed with a post he’d remembered seeing; a post that had also been reblogged by Virgil, with a few choice tags that made him think this could be a good idea.

“Virgil,” he asked softly. “How about you show me where you want to be tickled?”

And there it was; there was Virgil’s desperate squealing whine, his back arching just slightly, legs suddenly fidgeting behind him, and the tips of his ears burning red through his dark hair. Janus hit the nail on the head.

It only took a few more seconds for Virgil to roll over; his hands twitched, and he refused to look Janus in the face, but finally he managed to pull his t-shirt up over his stomach before shoving his face into his hands again.

Janus smirked. “I thought so.” He let one hand, gentle and wiggly, hover right above Virgil’s tummy. “When you want me to switch, I’ll just need you to pick another lovely little spot for me to tickle instead. One that’s just as ticklish, just so I know I’m getting a fair deal. You can do that, right?”

Virgil’s whine only last half a second this time, before it was replaced with a startled burst of frantic giggles as Janus began scratching all ten fingers around his sensitive tummy and sides. He curled up, and wiggled back and forth, and kicked his legs like there was no tomorrow, but his hands stayed over his eyes, his shirt stayed halfway up his torso, and he stayed right on the mattress under Janus’ lovely fingers.

“Oh, very good,” Janus cooed. His mind was already alight with all of the other posts he’d seen on Virgil’s blog, as well as things he’d found on his own that he was just so interested in trying. “You’re doing very well, Virgil. I think we’re going to have so much fun.”

[sainteclectic]

and btw since I'm posting a lot of wholesoul content (intended as platonic but still), i do want to make it clear: my analysis of whole as a character is purely within the narrative of the story! while i am aware that behind the metaphors is whole is cj himself, that's never what i'm writing whole as in my work. basically I'm using the internal logic of the fiction (whole as viewed by the characters in the album) rather than the reason for the fiction existing (as a fictionalized version of chonny's mental state), just like i do with all the other characters. it's important to make that distinction when you're dealing with a piece of fiction so heavily based on the creator i think. I'll never use cj as a basis for how I write whole because I find that a little off putting tbh ^^;

basically I'm playing with touys. ok? play touys with me

[delimeful]

let my mind reset (6)

warnings: angst, brainwashing, torture, psychological conditioning, references to injury/gore/death, harmful surgical implants, they are really going through it now, lmk if i missed any

-

Where the hours had passed slowly before, now they seemed to slip by all too fast. Every spare moment Roman had was spent in anxious anticipation of the next session and all that came with it.

He had never seen something like the haze used on a person before. Crav’n were invulnerable to it, and he’d only ever witnessed his aunt use it briefly on one of the local fauna once, a harmless and finicky tree-dwelling species about the size of his hand.

(Roman remembered the way Marta had compelled the little creature to pace back and forth, from place to place, wearing its will away until there wasn’t any hesitation between order and action. Then, she’d sent it walking into the nearby pond.

He remembered the way its survival instinct had set in late, the way it began to thrash, and still Marta didn’t call it back. He remembered feeling relieved when his mother stepped in and put a stop to the demonstration, scooping the poor beast from its fate with disapproval etched firmly in the set of her shoulders.

He didn’t remember if the creature had lived through the withdrawal, afterwards.)

Virgil was far from a simple animal, though, and despite Roman’s half-formed nightmares, he didn’t mindlessly succumb to the influence of the drug the first time it was forced on him, nor the second or the third.

In fact, every time the other Humans entered his cell with that unsettling green canister, he seemed just as panicked as Roman, if not more, putting up as much of a fight as he could with a battered body and a wrung out mind. No matter how they tutted or scolded, the other Humans still couldn’t get the mask on him until Roux had him forcibly subdued, which was a tiny victory in itself.

That didn’t stop the drug from taking its toll each and every time.

As horrible as it sounded, the worst part was that the effects weren't painful or malicious in nature. At least that would have been easier to fight against; a logical, instinctive response to being hurt.

No, it was far more insidious than that. The haze dulled pain. First, the physical: it eased away the stiffness of sore muscles and the burning of shocked nerves, leaving only a pleasant numbness behind. Then, the mental: it stalled the production of stressful chemical compounds, replacing them with whatever was needed to trick the victim’s mind into believing they were happy, relaxed, pliable.

Roman had never seen Virgil so unwound, so carefree, and he hated how unnatural the behavior seemed on the Human. It was a miserable experience, finally seeing him without the hunted slant to his posture, and feeling sickened by the sight.

What was worse was watching it wear off.

As though a switch had been thrown in reverse, Virgil would be plagued by a creeping, unrelenting sense of panic and dread, pacing around his cell frantically until a sudden hypersensitivity to touch left him crumpled in one spot, breathing harsh and pained.

Time after time, he was shown exactly how painful withdrawal from even a few doses was, until he was left bracing for it well before the next session had even begun.

“The last guys who had me would have killed for something like this,” Virgil said, nearly panting as he laid out on his back. He had his fingers pressed against his neck, feeling his pulse. His heart was racing so hard that Roman could see the veins pulsing eerily under the skin. A heavy spike of adrenaline, unprompted by anything tangible. “Bet she has at least a few people stashed away just to drain for easy cash.”

He spoke more, like this. Out of turn, about topics that were morbid and pessimistic, as though the thoughts were tumbling free of his mind without his permission. Roman never let his negative reactions to the more grim topics go beyond his ears flickering back; it wasn’t like he had the room or right to judge. They didn’t have very many reasons to be optimistic. Besides, he’d realized early on that the more worked up Roman got, the worse Virgil got in turn.

He still didn’t know the exact details of how Dren harvesting worked, and he was fairly sure he was better off for it. The very idea of setting an entire person aside for something like that was reprehensible, and therefore entirely possible for Marta.

“She said she… she gets rid of Humans that don’t break,” he replied after a moment, the words tumbling freely from him for once. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to turn a profit from it.”

He’d been trying to match the distant, dry tone Virgil had used, but he must have missed the mark, because the Human stiffened, and drew his hand back from Roman’s grasp to press it harshly against his eyes.

Belatedly, Roman realized what he’d just implied. Virgil was one of those Humans trying not to break, was at this very moment barely clinging to his composure, and he’d just been informed he was stuck between two horrific fates worse than death. “I didn’t mean—,”

“‘S alright,” Virgil interrupted, voice rough with exhaustion. “It’s not like I didn’t know. It makes me feel a little better, honestly.”

Roman stared at him, bewildered and still slightly aghast at his own stupidity, and Virgil shifted a few fingers to peer back with one eye.

“At least some Humans didn’t fall for it, y’know? At least some of them got out in their own way,” he continued, a thin thread of hopelessness tangled up in the words. “I was starting to wonder if the rest of space was right. If we were all just destined to be monsters with the right motivation.”

Roman should have been more alarmed at the implication that Virgil felt close to succumbing, that he was nearer than he’d ever wanted to be to a Human on the brink of falling under someone else’s blatantly malignant control, but all he could feel was a painful sympathy.

“You’re not a monster,” he said, and then, more firmly— “Humans aren’t monsters.”

Virgil’s eye widened slightly, gaze intent in a way that would have made Roman bristle in the past.

“They’re just people. They can do good or bad, just like anyone else. And sure, these guys are— they’re not doing good.” A pause, and Roman forced himself to meet Virgil’s stare. “But you have. You saved Patton, and you tried to save me, and you’re— you’re not a monster. You’re a good friend.”

Virgil buried his face back in his elbow and was quiet for a long moment.

“…You’re not so bad yourself.”

—

Roman hadn’t expected Marta to show up in person, not with how much she had delegated to her brainwashed underlings thus far, but arrive she did.

“Don’t fret, ghiva’al,” she crooned to him, passing by his cell with the lightest clink of her claws dragged against the bars. “I’m here to meet your little pet, not you.”

“Don’t—,” call me that, call him that, he wanted to snarl, but his throat closed up so sharply that it sounded a little like he’d choked.

Marta made her stilted croaking laugh, sparing him a glance that might have been pitying if it had bothered to reach her cold, empty eyes. “You always did struggle with words when emotional, didn’t you? Not nearly as well spoken as your mother. What a shame to see that hasn’t changed.”

There was a sharp clacking as an aggressive shudder ran through Roman’s scales, but he still couldn’t find his voice. Not even when Marta moved on to grip the bars of Virgil’s cell, her attention shifting to the Human where he stood warily in the center of the cage.

Roman had learned more than he’d ever thought he would about Human body language over the past few weeks. He knew from the slight sway to Virgil’s every shift that the Human was drained, likely barely keeping his feet.

Still, he was upright to face Marta, his height advantage allowing him to look down at her, and that was better than being crumpled on the ground at her feet. Little victories were all they had now, and they clung to each and every one.

Roux wasn’t there, Roman realized with a jolt, and the knowledge was enough to drag his mind into overdrive, a sudden double-edged hope springing to life in his chest.

Virgil must have already realized, because the way he held himself shifted into something taut and coiled, like he was preparing to lunge forward at the first opportunity, weak or not.

“Back of the cell,” Marta commanded, voice turned brisk and blunt in a way it hadn’t been with Roman. Like she was speaking to a beast instead of a person.

Virgil didn’t move, barely deigned to acknowledge the words beyond a brief flicker of his pupils upwards.

Marta waited, letting the silence stretch for a brief moment, and then clicked her teeth together in a mild reprimand. “The hard way, then.”

Despite her apparent annoyance, the words held a sort of anticipatory delight, and Roman felt the thick tar of dread slide under his scales as he watched her slide a small, triangular remote from a pouch at her side.

When she pressed the button in the center of it, she was looking at Roman.

It was Virgil who went rigid and fell.

Despite knowing it would undercut every lie he’d tried to sell about how little he cared, despite the fact that he was playing right into her claws, Roman couldn’t help but rush to the bars separating them, a shout of horror catching in his chest.

The Human hit the ground hard but stayed chillingly frozen, with every muscle locked into hard lines. He didn’t make a sound until Marta shifted her thumb away from the button, the motion somehow allowing him to finally go limp like a puppet with strings cut.

“Virgil!” Roman managed, though the sound of it was nearly lost in the sudden loudness of the Human’s gasping breaths. He hadn’t been breathing before, Roman realized with a terrified shock.

Whatever Marta was doing, it hadn’t countered Virgil’s natural stubbornness, and he climbed back to his feet with less staggering than Roman would have expected.

His gaze caught on the tremor to Virgil’s hands, the shuddering of his pulse, and he understood. Adrenaline.

The fight or flight instinct, Virgil had called it while talking with Patton. Roman had seen him choose to fight once, at their very first meeting, but even that couldn’t compare to the speed and ferocity of the way the Human lunged now.

Marta didn’t flinch back when he made loud, skull-rattling contact with the bars, but she didn’t blink, either, keeping her eyes firmly locked on Virgil as she pressed the button once more.

Instead of letting him drop, however, she reached out and seized him by the face, claws digging in on either cheek and holding tightly.

Virgil couldn’t so much as flinch away from the pain, and Roman slammed his arm against the door of his own cell with force, furious at his own helplessness.

Marta released the trigger again, and this time, every gasping inhale Virgil took was dosed with her haze. He tried to jerk back, but it was far faster acting straight from the source, and he had barely a moment before his expression dropped to something hollow and smooth, his desperate strength wavering and then extinguishing like a flame with nothing left to burn.

“Down,” Marta commanded, releasing her grip, and Virgil stood in place for a few long heartbeats before his legs collapsed underneath him.

She waved a hand absently down at him, still scattering her haze thick in the air. “There you go. It feels so much better when you listen, doesn’t it?”

Virgil twitched, a ripple of discontent crossing his face, but didn’t respond. He was shaking relentlessly now, his entire body trembling in a way that had Roman deeply concerned.

“You’re safe with me,” Marta lied, reaching down to glide the palm of her hand over the side of Virgil’s face. “You’re only safe with me. Everyone else wants to hurt you, but I’ll make the pain go away. Always do as I say, okay?”

Virgil didn’t move away, even as her rough skin caught on the wounds her claws had left only moments ago. His breathing grew wispier, slower, until he appeared almost calm, his eyes dazed and distant.

“Let’s try this again,” Marta straightened, and when her hand left Virgil’s cheek, he strained after it for a handful of seconds. “Back of the cell.”

Virgil climbed back to his feet, and Roman closed his eyes as the Human quietly began shuffling across his stretch of cell. He felt all of six winters old again, watching his aunt lead something fuzzy and helpless back and forth, closer and closer to the water’s edge.

“Good. Now, heel.” More shuffling, wordless as a corpse.

How long did he have before Virgil took his own plunge?

—

It took longer than before for Virgil to regain coherence, afterwards.

Roman knew the moment he’d come back to himself, because the soft grip around his hand had instantly vanished, yanked away so sharply that he’d barely registered the movement before Virgil was up on his feet and backing away.

“Virgil,” he tried, and the Human shook his head, the motion harsh, his hands lifting up to grip roughly at his hair in a distressed motion Roman had only ever caught glimpses of back on the ship.

He’d continued to retreat until he hit the furthest corner of the cell, where he slid down and curled in on himself, utterly unreceptive to any of Roman’s stilted calls. Roman caught his expression crumpling into a miserable grimace before he buried his face in his knees and hid that away too.

The silence stretched.

If there were some right words to say here, Roman couldn’t find them. Even if he did, he undoubtedly wouldn’t be able to say them. The helplessness sheared against his scales like rough sand, but how could he allow himself to wallow in it when he at least still had his mind, his existence still unarguably his own?

Freshly taunted by the knowledge that he didn’t have even that much, Virgil remained still and taut and quiet in the furthest reaches of his cell for what felt like a very long time.

When he did finally stir, Roman was appalled to see the faint streaks on his face where his tears had washed away the sweat and grime.

Patton had described Human weeping as arrhythmic vocalizations, much like Ampens, but with a physical manifestation as well. Roman hadn’t known that Humans could cry silently, like a pup gone still and quiet in the face of danger, with only the barest hitching of breath to indicate distress.

The expression on Virgil now was creased into firm lines, but it didn’t seem agonized or crumbling at the edges. Rather, as he climbed to his face, he seemed to hold the same bitter resolution Roman had seen in him a few times before: during the tail end of their first meeting, and after the fight with the raiders, both times when he’d thought he was about to be left alone again.

“Roman,” he started, and then worked his jaw tersely, once, twice. Rather than continue, he held out a hand, palm-up in silent offering.

Things had changed a lot over the course of their captivity, Roman reflected as he reached out and set his own hand in the Human’s grasp with barely a shred of hesitation. It felt like second nature by now, to reach out and cling on whenever his stomach was roiling with stress.

Virgil watched him for a moment longer, and then wrapped his fingers around Roman’s hand and drew closer, slowly pulling his arm up until he had positioned Roman’s claws just above the skin of his neck.

“This,” Virgil said, each word resolute, “is the best place to sever if you want to kill a Human quickly.”

The words took a dull, ringing moment to sink in, but once they did, Roman jerked back sharply. “Virgil, what—?”

For the first time, Virgil held on, keeping his hand pinned in place with ease even as he had to grip the bars with his other hand to remain upright. Roman could see the way the Human’s pulse fluttered under the skin, a heartbeat racing visibly exactly where Virgil had indicated.

“It’s important. You need to know,” Virgil insisted, and lifted their joined hands higher, to his temple. “Head wounds bleed a lot. Gashes up here are valuable because the blood runs down and drips into their eyes, which will work pretty well as a distraction—,”

“Stop it!” Roman demanded, yanking harder as his panic increased. “I’m not going to— stop talking like that! I don’t need to know how to hurt you!”

At the start of their voyage, Roman would have done just about anything for information like this, anything to feel safe on his own ship again. So why was he learning it only now, when each word and accompanying gesture made him feel ill and rotted down to the tip of his tail?

“It’s not— Roman, it’s not about me,” Virgil said, frustration seeping into his voice. He let Roman drag his hand away from his face, but still didn’t let go. “It’s about them.”

Roman wasn’t sure he believed that. “I don’t need to kill anyone. They’re brainwashed, this is Marta’s fault! I know the truth, now.”

Virgil shook his head, ghosted the fingers of his free hand over his implant scar with a distant, sickened expression. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want guilt to be the reason— Look. If it’s them or you, I want it to be you. I want you to make sure it’s you.”

And what if it's me or you? Roman thought, but the words lodged firmly in his chest until he could barely breathe around them.

“They all made their choice,” Virgil continued once it became clear that Roman wouldn’t respond. “They’ve kept making that choice, every time. You have to want to survive, too, okay?”

Mutely, Roman nodded, trying to ignore the creeping sense of horror. He pulled Virgil’s hand back towards himself, fumbled for speech for a long moment before finding the words and hoping they didn’t feel like a betrayal when spoken aloud.

“The underbelly,” he started, and Virgil’s expression— shut down. Every hint of body language went flat like stone, and just as unyielding.

“No.” The word was final, a sentence all its own, and Roman scowled mulishly.

“But—!”

“Roman.” Virgil lifted his other arm over so that he was clasping Roman’s hand between both of his own. “You’re the only one left, right? You told me that.”

The thought was still a wound-like pang in his chest, even after all this time. “Yes,” he admitted. “But, even still—,”

“No way. I don’t want to hear it, man. There’s nobody I would be willing to use it on, anyhow.” Virgil kept his gaze locked firmly on a point past Roman’s shoulder, but his shoulders were set, his voice steadfast.

There was no point arguing. Not now, when the both of them were one wrong move from collapse.

“Okay,” Roman finally said, and forced himself not to protest when Virgil reclaimed the position of lecturer. It was a struggle not to wince away with each gory anecdote, a full guide on the quickest ways to make the Human body stop functioning or even turn on itself.

“Gut wounds are slow to kill, but they can be painful enough to debilitate. There are vulnerable organs here, below the rib cage, and damage to them is difficult to treat without surgery if the wound is severe enough…”

Still, he held himself at attention, did his best to memorize every word.

If Virgil wouldn’t accept knowledge about Roman’s own vulnerabilities as a gift of equal exchange, Roman would simply have to treasure this information with the same dedication that he applied to the rest of their small crew.

After all, knowing all the individual weak points of a Human would make it that much easier for him to protect each and every single part of Virgil.

Virgil wasn’t going to die. Not here, and certainly not by Roman’s own claws. Not if Roman had anything to say about it.