#patton fic

[tworacoonsinabunnysuit]

My current WIP. A self insert, Mike Patton fic!

It’s already 11 chapters deep! Dig in

[xxshadowcasterxx]

Sanders Sides but their Emotions affect their Forms and stuff and so at some point they're all just falling apart and it's very clear

Roman is so scared of that "Perfect Heroic Mask" he wears cracking and revealing just how insecure he is and how weak he feels after SvS Redux, that one day he wakes up and there's cracks in his face and arms that resemble peeling paint.

Virgil is terrified of being perceived as scary and unwanted and dangerous after he admits to being a Dark Side to Thomas, and one day he realizes he has fangs because he feels like he's a Monster.

Logan feels so unseen and ignored by the others, especially after his outburst in the "Orange Incident" (and it not even working) that one day he becomes invisible and inaudible to all of the other sides.

Janus feels like Thomas and the others will never actually listen to his point of view if it's him speaking without using another person's tactics, and then he suddenly can't control when he changes form or who he looks like, but all he knows is that he change back into himself.

Patton feels so bad about trying so hard to be in the driver's seat and feels like he only gets in the way of the others and Thomas, so he suddenly begins growing in size in response.

Remus, meanwhile, is getting tired of all of his contributions getting shot down no matter the context, and so he begins to sporadically shrink because he feels undervalued.

At some point, it takes all of them reflecting on how they feel and actually communicating with each other for them to return to normal, and altogether move forward with new perspectives and a new understanding of each other.

[constellama]

Thinking about the sides as a found family. Thinking about how they’re inextricably connected because Thomas is their world and they do everything for his benefit and thinking about how much they love him and always want the best for him. Thinking about how they’re always growing closer to each other because of it. Thinking about how in the end they’re all six parts of a whole, six planets orbiting the same star.

Sometimes a found family is a guy, himself, himself, himself, himself, himself, and himself

[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.

[sandersontheside]

a little snippet from the prinxiety and logicality coffee shop AU I’m working on. Poor Logan. imagine expecting peppy adorable Patton and getting grumpy, impatient Virgil.

[libiemoon]

Virgil gets a job as a night watch at a local cemetery that pays $80/hour. The catch? It’s haunted, but Virgil is determined to make that $80/hour even if it means he gets 5 new ghostly friends.

[ts-crit]

All the sanders sides fans who were around at like the HEIGHT of the fandom I’m talking like sweating while waiting for part 2 of Accepting Anxiety to drop I need you help me out

I need every single fandom controversy that you can think of documented here on this post or sent to me in my asks or dms I’m trying to reminisce the old sanders sides drama to my friends 💀

I know for a fact I don’t have all of it but I distinctly remember:

- The unsympathetic!Patton drama

- That one long post with all bunch of the popular fanders about how “if you think we’re a perfect fandom then you are very misguided”

- I feel like there was SOME kinning drama that was swept under the rug

But yeah please add or shoot me an ask or something just like any like wild posts/blogs/whatever you remember

[prodigal-explorer]

sanders sides controversial opinions poll!

hi, guys! i've been in the sanders sides fandom for a few years now, and i've been really curious about where the majority of fans stand in terms of the most hot topics in the fandom right now. i made a nice little google form, and i'd love it if you guys filled it out with your opinions, anonymously, of course! there are no wrong answers, it's just opinions, and i want to know the real information, so don't worry about getting flamed or hated on because that's not going to happen!

also please reblog or send to your fander friends! i want this to reach as many interested people as possible!!

[sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes]

snakes and octopi give the best snuggles

Word count: 2,727 (wow, satisfying!)

Warnings: nightmares, brief descriptions of violence and gore, brief descriptions of kidnapping, spoilers for the movie Martyrs (2008), cursing, could be interpreted as u!Patton but he's more just young and foolish

Relationships: dark side family, focus on platonic anxceit and platonic dukexiety, no romantic ships

Characters: Virgil, Janus, Remus, Orange Side, Roman (mentioned), Patton (mentioned), c!Thomas (mentioned), Logan (mentioned)

The first Sanders Sides fanfiction I've finished writing in nearly 4 years!!! Woohoo!

Note: part of this is inspired by the beginning of Alice In Wonderland (2010)

“I really don't see why that's such a big deal.”

A snake crossed his arms from where he leaned against the counter. A hot-blooded short fuse paced across the living room carpet.

“You should be able to! He thinks he's so high and mighty, trying to take as much creative control as he can for himself! It's absurd!”

“On the other hand, giving too much control to You-Know-Who could be disastrous.”

“Good! Maybe those three need a wake up call, Janus! They get to sit on their fucking diamond-encrusted thrones all day while we rot in this putrid basement!”

Janus stood up straight, letting his muscles tighten slightly, “my job is Self Preservation, and the best way to keep our Centre’s mental health at its prime right now is to let them walk all over us.”

The other side narrowed his eyes, “and what's that going to do in the long run, huh? Make their high horses’ legs even longer?” he stomped over to the deceitful side, poking his chest, ”shove their heads even higher up their own asses?!”

“What it'll do in the long run,” Janus clenched his fist, “is for us to begin influencing Thomas when he's at a less busy stage in his life. Intrusive thoughts and dark creativity aren't good for adulting, Wrath. Be reasonable.”

“I'll show you how to be reasonable-”

“Guys?”

Orange and Yellow both shrieked at the small voice, whipping around to see Gray looking at them through the bannister, blanket pulled around his shoulders and his hair a mess.

“God, we need some sort of alarm for when you pop up…”

Janus glared at Wrath and turned to look at the youngest side, his expression softening.

“Another nightmare?”

Anxiety nodded.

“Come on then,” Janus took the boy's hand and led him back up the stairs, but only after calling a quick “you're burning up!” over his shoulder, and Wrath immediately ran to get himself some ice water.

Janus sat at the boy’s bedside, silently watching as he pulled the covers up to just under his eyes and laid back to rest his head on the pillow.

“Come on then,” he reached onto the floor and grabbed Anxiety’s favourite bat plushie, passing it to him, “tell me what happened.”

The small side hugged the toy as tight as his little arms would let him as he began to recall the events of his night terror.

“I-I was on a stage, in front of millions of people… we were performing some sort of comedy.”

“We?” Janus chimed in, “who else was there?”

Anxiety paused for a second and grimaced as he focussed on the memory, “well there's Thomas, a-and… the light sides.”

Deceit made a rumbling sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, hand gripping the bed sheets.

“And… they hate me,” he pressed the bat plushie to his face, “s-so much. They say I'm bad, a pest mist.”

“Pessimist,” Janus gently corrected, though his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

“Yeah, that… and…” Anxiety’s trembles grew, “and…”

Janus shushed him softly, “hey, hey,” he opened up his arms, an invitation, “it's alright, spiderling. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

The child shook his head and crawled into the hug, breathing out as strong yet gentle arms enveloped him.

“No, no, I-... I wanna.”

The elder side nodded.

“I, um, so I tried to fix the problem by quitting the show, throwing in the towel, all of that…”

“Yeah?”

“But t-that made them even more mad. They chased after me, broke into my room,” Anxiety tightened his grip on Janus’ shirt as more tears welled up in his eyes, “they took me away from you, and w-wouldn’t let me see you ever again!”

Janus swallowed.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “they would never be able to keep us away from you, my dear. We'd tear down every wall in the Mind Palace to get you back.”

The child went still, his breath catching in his throat.

“Virgil?”

Silence.

“I know you’re awake, sootywing.”

“You’re gonna be mad…”

“You don't have to hide anything from me, honey. It's just a dream.”

“W-well…” he swallowed, “in the dream y-you did try to get me back at first. But then…” fresh tears messed up his eyeshadow even more, “then you said that things were better here without me, that- that-”

Janus stopped resisting his urges, allowing his other 2 pairs of arms to wrap around the small side.

“Never,” he hissed fiercely, rubbing Virgil's back and holding his face in his hand, “you could never make things worse, my little raccoon.”

“They said the opposite,” the other whispered, voice still shaking but less so now that he was in one of Janus’ super-special-super-rare hugs, “that I just make Thomas's days worse, that I'm a burden on him that needs to be controlled, that-”

“-is absolutely not true,” Janus finished for him.

“Is it though?”

Janus frowned.

“I-in the dream,” Virgil continued, “after you guys left me with them for a while, I s-started to get used to being with them a-and eventually,” he hiccuped, voice thick with guilt, “I was happy with them.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I'm sorry!” Anxiety sobbed into his chest, “I don't know why it happened, I-”

Janus laid Virgil back into his bed, tucking him in with his bat plushie and gently wiping away his tears.

“That was just Stockholm Syndrome, honey.”

Virgil tilted his head to the side in confusion, and Janus melted a little at the pure objective cuteness of the small action. This kid wasn't just his spiderling, his black kitten, his baby bat, his raven, the Dark Mindscape’s little hidden butterfly, their raccoon… he was now his little black lab puppy too.

“It's when a hostage sympathises with their captor,” Janus explained, “It happens often. And remember, this was all a dream, it doesn't mean you would actually feel that way if it happened.”

The kid nodded and took a few deep breaths, blinking slowly before looking back up at the older side.

“D-do you think I'm bad?”

“Oh, darling,” Janus leaned down to press a kiss to his kid’s forehead, “we're all bad here.”

Virgil leaned up to trace his little fingers along Janus’ scales, and Janus gently took his hand in his own and kissed it too. Virgil smiled a little at that, and the sight was enough to fill Janus’ heart with joy for weeks.

“Well,” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled away, “that's what Morality thinks.”

“What was he like? Before the split?” Virgil heard him anyway. Janus forgot the kid had near-superhuman hearing.

Janus leaned back and thought for a moment, “at one point, we were very close. Back before he decided that lying is never good,” he frowned slightly, “we used to… bake cookies together, things like that.”

“Could we do that?” Virgil piped up, “bake cookies? It sounds fun.”

The yellow one smiled, “of course, hun. Just make sure Duke doesn't try to put glass shards in the batter.”

“Or Wrath with the hottest hot sauce?”

“Yes, that too.”

Janus looked around the room absentmindedly, eyes eventually locking onto the terrarium containing his baby’s baby tarantula.

“You know, if those light sides are ever mean to you, you could start feeding Charlotte fatter worms.”

“Why?”

“Because. She'll get bigger, and bigger, until one day she looks like Shelob…”

The snake side leaned down so that his face was inches from Virgil's, and smirked.

“...and you can set her after them to gobble them up!” Janus scuttled the fingers of all six of his hands along the boy’s sides, mimicking the movement of a spider’s legs, making the child shriek with laughter.

“Hahahahaha! Stop! S-stop! Janus!” He gasped out between giggles.

Janus eventually let him go (though only after having thoroughly enjoyed the angelic sound of his kid’s unbridled laughter) and sat back up, looking down at the little jumping spider with a smile he would never let anyone else see.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, “thanks, J.”

“It's my pleasure,” he murmured, reaching out to cup Virgil's face for a moment, green and purple eyes meeting yellow and brown ones, before standing up and walking towards the door.

Right as he opened it, Virgil called out to him again.

“Janus?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He melted even further at that.

“And I you,” Janus breathed out, voice and face full of fondness, “more than you'll ever know.”

Virgil's eyes shone along with his smile, and Janus took in the sight for a moment before switching off the light.

“Try and get some more sleep, hopefully with dreams full of fluffy spiders.”

“Night, Jan.”

He shut the door gently.

As his door shut, Virgil's room was cut off from the light in the hallway and plunged into pitch darkness. While he didn't mind this at all, he wasn't the slightest bit tired anymore, and it was hard to read books in the dark.

He reached behind his pillow and grabbed his trusty flashlight, fiddling around in the darkness until he found the ‘on’ button.

When he finally turned it on, the first thing he saw was a mad face inches from his own.

“Hey Virgie.”

Said side immediately screeched and whacked the intruder on the head with the torch, already hyperventilating.

“Remus, oh my God!” he shrieked, “I thought you left here when I fell asleep last night!”

Having already recovered from the blow, the Duke sat up and shook his head, specks of blood splattering on the bed sheets and walls.

“Nope! I've been here all night pretty much!”

“What? Where?!”

“Well,” he suddenly turned shy, ”you know how you've been having problems with that monster under your bed?”

“Of course,” Virgil groaned.

“I know, I know, but listen to this! There's a portal under your bed that leads to my room!”

“You can come in here when my door is locked?! When I don't want you to?!”

“Well, not anymore. Now that you know it's there you can lock it whenever.”

“Oh,” Anxiety breathed out and nodded, “that's okay I guess.”

“So!” Remus started, “while you were asleep I portaled to my room to get some stuff and…”

The Duke reached behind his back and pulled out a DVD case, shoving it right in Virgil's face.

Virgil read the title on the front of the case and gasped, “Martyrs? Remus-”

“I know! I was able to get a copy dubbed in English too! The movie just came out so I think it's a great find!”

“But-”

“And, like, Virgie, I know you can speak French for some reason and all but frankly the language sucks and I want to focus on the gore instead of the subtitles.”

“Remus, it's an 18+ movie!”

“Yeah!” He grinned manically, “you're 8, I'm a teen, and there's a plus because it's premium, just for us! Come on, let's watch it! I know you're wide awake after that nightmare.”

“Oh!” Virgil bellowed, “so you were here when that happened and you did nothing! Great! Thanks! You're such a good big brother!”

“I didn't wanna make it worse!”

“And why would that happen?”

“You were sleep-talking.”

“...Oh.”

“Mhm.”

There was a moment of tense silence.

“Any-fuckin’-way,” Remus hopped up from the bed and turned on the TV on Virgil's dresser, “Martyrs time!”

They were both sitting on the floor, Remus hugging Virgil from behind with his chin resting on his head.

“Jan and Wrath were talking about you when I went down.”

*Really?” Remus mumbled as he continued to stare at the screen, watching in awe and admiration as Lucie shot each member of the family who tortured her.

“Mhm,” Virgil nodded, “something about creative control.”

Remus froze as he processed the words, scrambling to pause the movie before staring down at his friend, “what did they say?”

“Uhh,” Virgil’s mind blanked for a second as he continued to look at the screen, which had been paused on a frame of the dead daughter, “someone trying to take it away from you?”

Remus stayed silent.

“And then they called you Dark Creativity?”

“I-” he stuttered.

“And then they said there were 3 light sides instead of 2-”

Remus pushed the words out as quickly as possible before Virgil could interrupt him again, “I’monlyhalfofCreativityandtheotherhalfismybrother.”

Virgil stared at him blankly as his brain slowly dissected the jumble of words just thrown at him.

“You're… not all of Creativity?”

Remus shook his head, not wanting to speak for one of the only times in his life.

“...How?”

“Well… the reason we're all split into light and dark is because the original Creativity split first. When Thomas was around your age he got too Christian and decided all the fun stuff was bad so it was forced out and voila! It made yours truly. And then Morality decided to split all of us off.”

“Why?!”

“I dunno, for funsies I guess.”

“Huh… So is your brother the one trying to take more creative control?”

“Eugh, probably.”

“Don't like him then, I'm guessing?”

“He's the worst!” Remus hollered, “all glitter and ponies and magic godmothers! The only ones who die on his side of the Imagination are villains!”

Virgil gasped, “is that why I'm not allowed in the Imagination alone?!”

“Yeah, but don't go snooping around now that you know that! And don't let Wrath or Janus know that you know about my twin!”

“Why?”

“They wanted to wait til you were older so you would understand. The split is behind us, Virgie. It's the past. And you came after it. You being a dark side from the moment you formed was the start of our perfect family. You don't need to dwell on something you didn't exist to see.”

“Okay,” Virgil nodded and then giggled, “way to bash the entire subject of History there.”

“If you learn from it you can't repeat the best bits!”

Virgil laughed and relaxed into his friend's hold as he unpaused the film.

Both of them stared at the screen as the credits rolled.

“Keep doubting…” Remus echoed.

Virgil hummed in thought, “what afterlife would make someone want to go to it, but for others to not know what it is?”

“Maybe if there's none at all?”

“But then why would she want to stop living?”

“Because she knows all the work she's done torturing people til their last breath was for nothing, and that life really has no meaning at all?”

“No afterlife is boring though, Remus. Surely you agree?” Virgil turned to look back up at him, “wouldn't you want it to be some sort of Lovecraftian hell?”

“Oh, I would love that, you know I would. But, y'know,” the Duke sighed, “Occam's razor gotta cut us out of our skin and bleed us out until we're dried skin suits and a pile of bones.”

“Eugh.”

“Yum.”

“Ew!”

They both giggled. Virgil shifted until his back was pressing into Remus’ chest and he closed his eyes with a content sigh. Watching the goriest movie ever made with his insane best friend really tired him out.

Remus crossed his legs to wrap them around Virgil and tightened his hold. A surge of violent protectiveness coursed through his veins as he thought back to the conversation between him and Janus he had eavesdropped on.

“Hey, salticidae?”

“Hm?”

“If those light sides ever do try to Beauty And The Beast ya or some shit, you can call me to come and help you through the portal!”

“...Oh!” Virgil’s eyes lit up, “that's a great idea! As long as you bring some weapons with you.”

“For you,” Remus grinned, “I’d bring only my best.”

When Janus and Wrath recovered from their screaming match and went to check on the youngest, they were met with a sight that was immediately placed into the family photobook.

Virgil was curled up into a ball while hugging his bat plushie close to his chest, letting out tiny high pitched snores. Remus was wrapped around him with all 4 limbs plus his tentacles, letting out much bigger, grosser snores.

Ironically, being cuddled by the embodiment of intrusive thoughts was a great way to get rid of nightmares.

And, for nearly a decade, everything was perfect for the little dark family.

Until, like the twisted shadow of a Disney Princess, Virgil's dream came true.

[yomica12345]

Royal AU?

I know there are plenty of Royal AUs in the Sanders Sides fandom already but... If I were to do one who would you want to be royalty? I may take the results of this poll into consideration as I'm coming up with my concept, but I'll give you a little peek of what to expect by sharing my placeholder title: Royals and Wizards. Are the royals not going to be wizards or are they wizards themselves? Who knows? Also I may have multiple Princes so... make sure to reblog especially if it means others may want the same side(s) to be royalty. But the first place vote will be the concept I will ultimately be going with for this au.

Here are possible concepts for what each side(s) au may be like if they're at the top of the poll:

Roman and Remus:

Two brothers fighting for the crown as their parents aren't exactly sure which of them is the oldest. In order to have a chance at the crown they must find love and be the first to marry. Who would find love first or would it just be a race to get someone to agree to a marriage?

Virgil:

Virgil never wanted the responsibility of a kingdom to be placed on his shoulders but with the King and Queens passing the mantel will soon fall to him. Unable to handle the stress Virgil decides to run away to try and escape the responsibility. Will he be able to escape the crown or will he be found in time to be crowned king?

Logan:

Prince Logan has got it bad for Virgil. (Yes, Analogical because I'm obsessed) But betrothed from a young age Logan has to decide to whether to take up his responsibility as the prince to marry someone for the good of the kingdom or take the decision into his own hands and go with the man he truly loves. (In this one Logan would most likely be a wizard so wizard antics would definitely play a part in the story)

Patton:

As heir to the thrown Patton needs to find someone who he can trust to rule along side him and in order to this a selection is held. (Yes like based off the Selection Series but make it gay and Sander Sides) Meeting with different suitors Patton has trouble narrowing the list of suitors down. Will he be able to find The One?

Janus:

Janus has had a rivalry with a prince of a neighboring kingdom since he was young. (Not sure who the other prince would be yet) Wanting to get back at this other prince he sneaks into their kingdom and their sleeping quarters in order to steal something as leverage against them. However his plan goes awry as he's caught and his lies have him committing himself to spying on himself for this prince who actually just wants to win his heart. Will Janus end up developing feelings back? He certainly hopes not.

P.S. I might come out with another poll later for who you may want to see as a wizard.

[halfhissandwich]

I was thinking about this: Logan implies that only feeling-based sides are able to duck out when he explains to Thomas that he, as logic, can’t duck out like Virgil did. And in the EXACT SAME EPISODE, Patton is described as the “core of a lot of Thomas’ feelings.” I THINK that Patton is the only other side that can duck out, and if he did, c!Thomas would experience what is essentially depression (apathy, a loss of interest in previous interests, etc)

(Bonus headcanon: If the orange side does turn out to be Rage, he will also be capable of ducking out.)

[notanonymous]

The sides as emoticons:

Patton: 83

Logan: 8/

Roman: >:D

Virgil: >:/

Janus: >:)

Remus: >:{D

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Primal

I was thinking one where Janus believes the others have only excepted him/like him as his function of self preservation not as Janus the person? And because of that belief he is failing to care for himself as he needs. Pushing to do more for the others and masking his own feeling untill he can't anymore and the others take care of him and assure him that is not the case? Bonus for Janus having chronic issues either snake related or other. – ultrageekygirl

Had the thought of neurodevelopmental disorders showing up in the sides as physical disorders or disability. A side trying to hide a flare-up or otherwise bad day believing they wouldn't be helped, only to be found and promptly (affectionately) smothered? – diamond-blade

hi! i love your fics!♥️ my fav is the wings one and it got me thinking and search and i found that you already did one with naga janus (didn't read it yet. but i will!♥️), but i think naga janus is awesome. could you do something do with him? like a protective parent with his adoptive only child Virgil? make some drama, like They lose Virgil or Remus doing some usual bullshit or the light sides do something and get scolded or something of your liking. just please make Janus a Naga. i need my snake boi to be snake. – anon

Writing prompt if you're accepting them!: one of the sides for some reason grows up thinking he doesn't have or doesn't deserve a human name? Maybe Virgil would work best. ^-^ – anon

Random idea I just had, you can do what you will with it: something in the style of your Green Kitty Cat, where Janus is campaigning heavily for lying in a situation where that would clearly just make it worse, and Thomas ends up having a Talk with him about how he's thankful Janus is looking out for him, and it's okay to be scared, he gets it, but they're going to be Okay. <3. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3836

There are differences between the Light Sides and The Dark Sides, but they aren't as…black and white as they seem. For one, there's no abject morality—if you'll forgive the wordplay—to being on one side or the other. Fear can just as easily be a key component of survival, as can Doubt, as can they be things that hinder you or hold you back. There is nothing keeping the two factions apart from that perspective, and so we must examine things a little more closely.

Namely, at the root of their core concepts.

Fear, as many will tell you, is primal. As is Self-Preservation, as is what is commonly referred to as Thought. Those who would tell you that there are different types of Thought would be willing to Split them, hence the two Sides of Creativity. But one of those is far more conscious than the other, is it not? Oh, obviously there are parts of Fantasy and Romance that cannot be so easily corralled or called upon as other Thoughts, but there are those and then there are the ones that drift around and careen into each other solely unbidden.

So. What do we do, when we are young and still learning how our minds work, but associate those things that are far more primal with animals?

Lies. Deceit. Doubt. Selfishness. A young Side waking one morning with a deafening scream trapped in his throat when he's greeted not to the soft comforts of his bedsheets, but instead the rippling coils of a massive snake. He thrashes, trying to get away from the terrifying creature, only for the coils to slip over and over and over until he realizes that it's him.

A child, shaking and shivering in the sudden cold of his room, his remaining human-like limbs growing sore as he tries to wrestle his uncooperative snake tail into some semblance of comfort. Growing at the speed of Thought, learning how to use his transformation abilities himself, learning how to care for the scales that grow up one side of his body, learning how to manage his internal temperature by wearing layers and layers to keep himself warm by force. A Side coming into his own with a silver tongue and golden eyes, learning how to hide the parts of him that he would rather the world not see.

Humans learn things at different rates. Lying comes easily after you've done it so many times, but we can never truly master what it is to be afraid. It makes sense, after all, we are not meant to immerse ourselves in Fear. It's a built-in alarm system, designed to make us flee from danger and get somewhere safe. And so, is it any wonder that Fear would take longer to grow into itself?

Janus has two little ones with him in the Dark. The first, another child that shivered in the cold and whispered about what could be hiding in the shadows with him, clutching onto his sleeve and trying to warn him about what might be lurking around the corner. This one stayed a child for a long time—but what else could Fear do as it tried to figure itself out? The unknown is terrifying, after all, and who could begrudge a child comfort? It made sense to be little for so long, it was a far simpler way to feel safe. But we learn, at our own pace, how to manage our fears, how to live with them, how to name them.

If only it was so simple a process for Fear itself.

Janus spends many nights soothing the little bundle with cuddles and warm blankets, whispering that it was alright, finding your own shape takes time, but you should still figure it out because it was you, and there was nothing better to be than yourself. Fear resisted for a long time, arguing that he wasn't something good, he shouldn't be himself, he shouldn't be named. It grew worse when thick furry legs began to appear on his sides, crawling and twitching of their own free will. Janus would pull the spider child into the warmth of a heat lamp and massage his pained limbs, trying to calm him down just enough that he wouldn't smack himself in the face with them.

It's alright, he would whisper, letting his tail wrap around the two of them, it's alright, it's only me, it's only you. There's nothing wrong with either of us, see?

But Fear could be stubborn, as young children are wont to do. I don't deserve a name. I'm bad, I'm not supposed to exist!

Fear keeps us alive. How else would I know what to do? You tell me everything, you tell me how best to keep us safe, what is more important than that? Janus runs his hands over the limbs, teaching him how to feel them, how to accept them, and more importantly, how to hide them when he needed to. It's up to you to control it, it's a part of you. You can do it.

Slowly, Fear learns. Fear becomes Virgil, spider legs hidden under massive baggy hoodies and sweatpants, curling up around Janus to keep warm and keep safe.

The other child takes much longer to even settle on a form to begin with. Thought races around with all the malevolent glee of a sprite, upsetting things and causing chaos and leaving the echoes of gleeful cackles wherever it goes. But something ephemeral cannot be held, cannot be comforted, cannot cause a certain type of chaos, and so a blob of a child forms with its skin pulsating and roiling with all the madness of a storm at sea. Janus would curl his tail around the blob, feeling it thrash against the confines until it settled into something more tangible. A child with black tentacles, with a bright streak of white in his hair, a manic grin on his face. Remus, the one who darted about with all the subtlety of a hurricane and left just as much carnage in his wake.

Thoughts are meant to be together. When Remus discovers that half of him is missing, he screams.

Shh, shh, Janus hushes, pulling him and Virgil into a cuddle in the warmth, don't fret, don't fret, there's nothing wrong with you.

He's gone, Remus wails, lamenting the loss of a brother he'd never truly gotten to know, he left me, he left me all alone!

Then that's his loss. You are worth just as much on your own, we would not trade you or bargain you away for anything. You are ours, just as we are yours.

I can't stop them, Remus sobs, hands hooking into claws only for Janus to tut and use two more hands to pull them away from his face, I can't control them, I can't—I can't do anything right!

You can be yourself. You can be yourself because it is the best thing you can ever be. You can learn to harness the energy, put it where it needs to go. Control it, use it, it's yours.

They grow. They learn. They control their more animalistic traits and by the time they are all round about the same age, they can hide them completely.

***

When Thomas learns of his Sides, there isn't a way to differentiate between Light and Dark. After all, Roman hasn't come up with the name yet, and he isn't aware that Janus and Remus exist yet. Or rather: Deceit keeps things hidden and Thomas still believes he has one Creativity.

At first, he worries. Virgil is by far the most sensitive about his status as a Side, but he could no more keep Thomas's Fear from him than he could eliminate it entirely, and so…Virgil it is. His little spider has developed quite the sharp tongue over years of dealing with him and Remus, and so he watches with no small amount of glee as Virgil holds his own against Logic, Morality, even Creativity. Certainly, watching Roman puff up like a proud peacock ready to be plucked—he blames Remus for that one entirely—is reward enough on its own. But there's a reason Fear is present in these conversations as Thomas tries to work through his issues, and more often than not, it's to be put back in its place. No one handle being cut down to size over and over and over with no respite.

He lets Virgil snuggle up to him in the warmth whenever he needs to. Strokes his hair and whispers that it's alright, still, he has his place, he's still useful to Thomas even when it feels like he isn't. His chest clenches when Virgil confesses his childhood worry that this would all be better if he wasn't here, that it might just make more sense for him to duck out. Nothing has him as terrified as when Virgil actually does it, not since he woke up twisted in his own tail. He hammers on Virgil's door, calling for him, trying with Remus to break it down when they don't get anywhere.

But then the Light Sides show up. With Thomas. And everyone can breathe again.

Virgil becomes…well, not a Light Side, but he becomes one of them. He shows up to their meetings, he helps them with their issues, and he…starts to join them. For things like dinners, movie nights, things that aren't about helping Thomas, but just about them as the Sides. Remus doesn't take it well at first, screaming that Virgil's leaving them just like Roman did, but Virgil points out that it wasn't Roman's fault they were never together in the first place, and, well, things don't go well.

Virgil leaves, because he can go to the others now. They understand that Fear is necessary sometimes, and so they let Virgil be around them. For Janus and Remus, well, they have always been at home in the shadows, and so Janus curls his tail around Remus's thrashing form and whispers that they'll be okay.

You're safe, little Kraken. It's okay. It's all going to be okay.

How is it going to be okay? They're never going to accept us! They hate us!

They don't know we exist, sweetie, that's not the same thing.

Why? Why can't we show them who we are?

And Janus, who has spent years managing the cold and the pain that comes from being half snake, just holds him tighter. It took them this long to realize that Fear is useful. I don't…I don't know how long it will take for us.

Remus perks up. But we can try?

But we can try.

Janus does try, for Remus's sake, because he can see how much Remus misses not one but two brothers, but if he doesn't give it 'the old college try,' Remus doesn't need to know about it. The longer it goes on, the more he resolves not to tell Remus the truth about what exactly goes on at the meetings, not when he sees how the others actually treat Roman.

He's heard enough of Remus griping that his brother's probably the more beloved one since they were old enough to have such sibling rivalry, but he hadn't truly put it together why Virgil stopped weighing in on those after he started regularly seeing them. It wasn't because Virgil was growing to prefer Roman, as he and Remus had feared, but instead because it simply wasn't true.

Roman was…treated badly, to put it mildly. Roman was treated like a work horse. An idea factory. A convenient excuse when things went wrong and a shiny accessory when things went right. He was so willing to listen to a kind word or a touch of praise that it made his initial foray as Patton the easiest trick he'd pulled in decades. And even when the masquerade had been revealed and Thomas learned of his existence, Roman was still there accepting his sarcastic compliments as though they were real.

He tells Remus his brother doesn't miss him. It's the first time he's not sure who he's lying for.

Things get worse before they get better. Far worse. Worse enough that he's not sure if any of them will actually recover from it, not when Thomas is closer to a genuine breakdown than he's ever seen, not when Patton is shaking and shivering from turning into a giant frog, not when Roman sinks out and a genuine stab of Fear makes him think they might just have One Creativity after all, worse enough that for the first time in years, his control over his snake form trembles.

Roman falls apart. He locks himself in his room and refuses to let anyone in. Not for the first time, Janus wonders if he's done more harm than good, lancing open the wound to purge the infection, but at the cost of causing Roman pain. He doesn't regret what he's done, not when it's gotten Thomas to take a good look at himself, not when it's begun to bridge the gap between Light and Dark, but poor Roman is the lynch pin to be sacrificed for the greater good.

The heroic sacrifice that he's sure the Prince would be happy to make, but he hadn't made the choice himself.

He worries that Roman might be alienated entirely. After all, he's no longer being useful. He's drowning, spiraling, drifting further and further away from anything that could possibly be productive, and none of the others know how to reach him.

Then Remus smashes through his door with a Morningstar and tackles his brother into a bear hug.

Janus watches, spellbound, as the others converge on Roman, wrapping him in their arms and whispering comforts. A foreign sight, a familiar sight, except they aren't saying the things they should be. They're not offering encouragement, ways out of the Dark, they're telling Roman how much they love him. How much he's important to them not as Creativity, but as Roman. Remus vows never to let his brother forget how much he loves him and Janus can only blink in surprise—last they spoke, Remus hated Roman, how did it come to this? How much has he missed?

He's missed a lot, it seems, as he watches Virgil be just as active a participant in comforting Roman as the others. He watches Logan and Patton pull Remus into their group hug without a second thought. He watches Roman's tearful face go from scared to relieved over the course of that hug, watches him relax into the embrace and drift off into an exhausted sleep. He feels a twinge of pain in his scales and forces a smile to his face, teasing the little prince ever so gently before sitting on the edge of the hug.

That must be another difference between Light and Dark, then. The Lights are more than just their functions to each other.

***

Thomas is…confused, to say the least. At least he's not alone. The others are also staring at Janus like he's just sprouted another head. Granted, that's slightly more Remus's territory than his, but Thomas wouldn't put it past him.

"What are you looking at me like that for?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're suggesting we do something really, really stupid?"

"We've already vetoed Remus's ideas, actually."

"First off, ouch," Remus grumbles from Roman's side, "and second, you know damn well that's not what we're talking about."

Janus scoffs, crossing his arms and examining his gloves. "I really don't know what you all are so ticked off about."

Logan takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Janus, we've been over this. There is no point to lying about why we are attending this art show. We gain nothing by deceiving our friends."

"And we gain nothing by having them figure out where we are actually going and guessing that we're getting them a present that they specifically told us they do not expect."

"Yeah, which means it'll be a nice surprise!"

"Patton's right—" and wow, Thomas never thought he'd hear Remus say that, and judging by Patton's expression, neither did he— "besides, you know how important trust is to Addie, we can't just lie to them and expect it to be fine!"

"What they don't know won't hurt them."

"Okay, now you're not even trying—"

"J, I swear to God—"

"That's not true and you know it—"

"Temper, temper," Janus drawls, raising his hands like he's some overdramatic villain about to be executed, "aren't we all a little uppity today?"

"What the fuck is going on, J?" It says something that Patton doesn't call Virgil out on his language. "You've been pushing this sort of thing for weeks now. What's wrong?"

"Why would you believe something's wrong?"

"You've been trying to get us to make decisions that are objectively worse for us, despite your role as Self-Preservation," Logan lists, a furrow to his brow too, "you've been antagonizing us significantly more than usual, and you've been avoiding us outside of the meetings."

Thomas blinks. That's new. Sure, even he knows Janus isn't the most social of Sides, but missing things like their movie nights? The one time where all of them agree to be civil and get along for one evening? Yeah, no, something is wrong.

"—think you're all overreacting."

"We're not overreacting, buddy, we're worried."

"Same thing."

"It is not. You are clearly upset about something—"

"Oh, well, if you believe I'm upset—"

"That's not what he meant, kiddo, and you know it."

"Guys," Roman says, "I don't think trying to do it like this is gonna work."

"You should listen to Roman," Janus says, and Thomas winces at how sharp it's become, "you'd think you'd have gotten better about that."

Roman flinches, Remus glares at Janus, and Thomas gets it.

"Janus?"

"Yes, Thomas?"

"It's okay to be scared. We are too. But trying to push people away isn't going to work."

Janus freezes. Full deer-in-headlights. Distantly, he hears Remus and Virgil make noises of realization.

"It's hard, right? Trying to figure out how to manage it? But it doesn't have to come at the price of us being happy around people. We don't have to hide everything."

"Of course we do," he hisses, and it actually does come out as a hiss, which—he admittedly didn't see coming, "haven't you learned that by now, Thomas? People aren't kind about things like this."

"Like what?"

Janus stumbles, as though he hadn't meant to say that. On one side, Remus wraps an arm—oh, shit, that's very much not an arm. That's not an arm, that's a tentacle. That's definitely a tentacle. In hindsight, it's probably obvious that Remus had tentacles or was capable of having tentacles, but still.

"You're an idiot," Virgil huffs, but it sounds more affectionate than anything else, "you haven't let yourself shift since you started coming to movie nights, have you?"

"Excuse me for being polite," he bites out and Remus flicks his ear.

"You can just say you didn't feel comfortable doing it."

"It's private!"

"It's hurting you."

"Whoa, wait, what?" Patton steps forward. "Janus, you're hurting?"

"They're being dramatic, I'm fine. I'm—oh, for crying out loud—"

Remus had wrapped his arms around Janus's waist and squeezed tightly, just as Virgil comes up to his other side. "Sheesh, Snakey, you're freezing. Why didn't you tell me your heat lamp was out of batteries?"

"It wasn't important!"

"Of course it's important, it keeps you warm."

"Janus," Logan asks gently, and even Thomas gets a lump in his throat, "why haven't you been taking care of yourself?"

"Yeah, isn't that like, your thing?"

Janus looks around and seems to realize that he's not getting out of this anytime soon and huffs. "You don't keep me around for that, you keep me around because I'm useful."

"I feel like we went over this," Roman teases, going to wrap his arms around Janus too. Thomas chuckles at the muffled how are you so warm? "You're not an exception to that rule either."

"Thomas?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna join us for movie night?"

"Sure."

"Wait," Janus mumbles, flailing a little in the twins' grip. "What about—we need to decide—"

"Oh, we have time," Thomas grins, sitting down and watching Janus get man-handled into sitting too, "and you need to warm up first."

Janus lets out an affronted huff but lets himself be cuddled on the couch. He glances at Remus, who nods—they'll have a talk about Janus later, he's sure, but for right now, he settles back and watches Logan and Roman fuss over the movie selection.

***

"Hey," he whispers when the other Sides are asleep, "is everything okay? Really?"

Janus looks at him, and for a moment, he looks like a lost child. "Are you sure I'm…okay? Really?"

Thomas grins, opens his arms, and pulls him close. "Promise."

He feels a cold snake tail wrap around him in the dark and kisses Janus's forehead.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs@el-does-photography@princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

[delimeful]

you can't go back (10)

warnings: depression mention, death mention, animal violence mention, angst, lmk if i missed any

-

Roman had been poking and prodding the alien in his barn for answers for the better part of a month, to no avail. 

No matter what combination of words, actions, or prop-laden charades he and Logan had attempted, they’d come no closer to anything resembling communication than they had when Roman had been angrily threatening the alien with a broom. He’d been growing more hopeless— and admittedly, more guilty— by the day. 

And then, entirely unintentionally, along came Patton. 

Less than an hour after their accidental introduction, Patton had somehow managed to not only convince the alien to speak to him, but also earn their apparent undying loyalty. 

Roman kind of got it, because, well, it was Patton, but he was still feeling incredibly miffed about how the entire situation had played out. He couldn’t even say as much, because then Patton would start making pointed statements about not hiding things from one’s friends and how nice it would have been for him to have met their excitable extraterrestrial earlier. 

Going by the way the alien kept hovering over Patton like a brooding hen, Roman figured their captive-turned-guest(?) probably felt the same way. Not that he could really blame them.

Despite Patton’s gentle prompting and Logan’s intense staring, the alien refused to utter so much as a recognizable syllable in front of them, sticking firmly to bobbing a clawed hand up-and-down or side-to-side for ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, respectively. 

That alone was enough to confirm that Patton was right: the alien absolutely could understand human speech, though not as comprehensively as Star Wars would have had him believe. Even with this new willingness to interact, around half of their questions were still answered with a hesitant motion of bumping the sides of their forearms together and then drawing them back apart, which seemed to be the alien’s version of a shrug. 

This wasn’t the only new gesture they were introduced to over the course of the next few days. From subtle shifts of their faceplates to the absent air-pedaling their stabby limbs did while they were thinking, they were now witness to a whole gallery of unfamiliar mannerisms. The thick spiral-ring notebook Logan had dedicated to documenting the alien’s body language had rapidly begun to run out of blank pages, with the frantic scribbling becoming such a well-worn background noise that even the alien stopped being wary after a while. 

As it turned out, the alien was a lot more expressive when all six of their limbs weren’t forcibly restrained. This was one of those things that seemed a lot more obvious in hindsight. 

Given that four of those limbs had both the sharpness of a spear and the spring-loaded power of a harpoon gun, Roman still felt a fair amount of uncertainty about just how much trust they were placing in a relative stranger, but he kept those thoughts to himself.

After all, this was a welcome change from the quiet, still way the alien had been curled up on their makeshift bed for the past week, not nearly as aggressive as before but also not nearly as alert or even responsive, some days. Roman had been getting more and more worried, half-expecting to find a corpse every time he went to check on them, like a bug left in a jar to suffocate. 

Whatever magic Patton had worked, it had brought an undeniable spark of life back to the alien, and wary or not, Roman was unspeakably relieved about it. 

The past couple of days had been dedicated to finding supplies for the alien’s project, which they had figured out (mostly through extensive guessing) was a makeshift translator. One of Logan’s old laptops, the disemboweled guts of the alien’s helmet, and an old car battery from the junkyard had been sacrificed to the alien’s tinkering, along with various bits and bobs pulled from old charging cables and a broken VCR player. 

After the third unsuccessful game of charades, Roman had just grabbed the whole junk drawer in the kitchen and tipped all the contents out in the hopes that the alien would find what they needed. 

Seeing as there hadn’t been any more requests, they seemed to have found the pieces they needed— or at the very least, acceptable substitutes. From there, all that was left to do was loiter in the barn and wait for them to finish. 

“Guys,” Patton called, the only one allowed to sit nearby while the alien worked. “I think it’s ready!” 

The moment the words split the air, Logan practically teleported over to their corner of the barn, and Roman was only a step behind, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest at the thought of finally learning what had happened to his brother. 

The alien was crouched with their backwards-jointed legs folded under them, and as they all gathered around, the limbs on their back pulled in to avoid grazing any shoulders, as though even the barest touch would be poisonous. As always, they didn’t make direct eye contact with anyone, simply reaching out to the contraption and pressing one of the buttons on the VCR. 

They made a series of carefully enunciated clicks and churrs, the same muffled language that they had used during Roman’s pointless interrogations, and then released the button and pressed down another one. 

There was a brief moment of silence, and then: 

“Can you understand this sentence?” 

The voice was robotic, the inflections slightly strange, but the words were clear. 

“Yes!” Roman exclaimed, half an answer and half a cheer of success. “It worked, we understood that!” 

The three of them exchanged glances, sharing a sort of awed joy at the impossibility of it all. The alien waited for a moment longer before recording another stretch of clicks and sending it through the translator. 

“The energy cell won’t last long. Ask important questions first.” 

Like mirror images, both of his friends turned to look at him at the same time, and whatever expression he was making seemed to tell them everything they needed to know. 

“No matter what the answer is,” Patton told him, reaching out to hold onto his hand tightly, “we’ll figure it out together, okay?” 

Logan flipped his notebook over, abandoning the list of questions to set the tip of his pen to a blank page. “I’ll record the information verbatim. It’ll ensure we don’t miss anything.” 

Embarrassingly enough, Roman’s eyes began to sting. He cleared his throat, smiling weakly at his best friends. “Thanks, guys.” 

The question sat heavy on the back of his tongue, the shape of words practically memorized after the many times he’d spoken, shouted, screamed them. When he looked forward to the alien, though, he realized that there was something else he owed it to them to ask. 

“What’s your name?” 

The alien went rabbit-still for a moment, a reflexive attempt to hide that Roman was pretty sure meant they were surprised. He didn’t rush them; he was pretty surprised at himself, too. 

Finally, they leaned close to the speaker again. “I am known as Anxiety.” 

“Anxiety?” Patton echoed, his eyebrows lifting in bewilderment. 

The alien shuffled their hands over each other in an uncertain-looking gesture before speaking into the translator, a little quicker now. “Was that the wrong word? The direct translation is more like ‘he who fears needlessly’?” 

“Anxiety… is a good word for that, yes,” Logan answered after another uncertain pause. “It simply isn’t a word we would usually use as a name.” 

“Alien,” Anxiety replied succinctly, with another one of those forearm shrugs. 

Roman nodded, fitting the name carefully into the list of things they’d learned about this stranded stranger. “My name is Roman, and this is Logan and Patton.” 

Each of them waved on cue, one perfunctory and the other over-enthusiastic. Anxiety glanced between them for a moment before apparently giving in to his curiosity. 

“Who is first?” he asked through the translator, earning three confused looks. 

“I’m the oldest?” Roman offered, not in the least confident that this was the answer Anxiety was looking for. “But not by that much? We’re all in the same grade, um, which basically means we’re only a few months apart in age.” 

Anxiety didn’t lose the air of puzzlement, but he shook his hand in the ‘no’ gesture. “Nevermind. Ask your questions.” 

Roman swallowed, his nerves returning to him twofold, and forced the words past numb lips. “What… What happened to my brother?” 

Although Anxiety had almost certainly expected the question, his limbs still flexed behind him, trembling slightly with tension. Foreboding sunk into Roman like a stone through water. 

“Your brother was abducted,” Anxiety finally answered, the translator turning the words flat and stilted. “Stolen, but most likely alive.” 

Alive. Alive. Most likely alive. Roman’s chest felt like it might burst with how hard his heart was beating.

“Why? What are they going to do to him?” he asked, his voice rising louder in his desperation. Patton squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

Anxiety’s hesitance stretched even longer. This time, after speaking into the translator, he shuffled backwards slightly. Preparing for a violent response to whatever he’d just said. 

“Deathworlders are valuable in some circles. That crew is money-hungry. They probably took him to use as a champion in illegal fighting rings. Dangerous, but not lethal if he can fight,” the translator spit out dutifully. 

Fighting rings. Roman thought about every movie scene he’d ever watched with gladiators, every news article about local dog fighting, every old story about men shoved into a pit of starving lions. Pictured Remus, dropped into some horrible real-life version of that scene from Star Wars, but without magic powers or even so much as a lightsaber to his name. 

He felt sick. His hand went limp in Patton’s grip, nausea churning in his gut. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. What could he possibly say to that? How was he supposed to ask about his own brother’s odds, his life expectancy on an alien battleground?

“What do you mean by ‘Deathworlder’?” Logan asked, his gaze sharp as he picked up the slack. 

Anxiety’s attention was clearly riveted on Roman’s response, but he managed to answer after several seconds passed without anyone lashing out, leaning forward again. 

“It’s a title. Sapient species that originate from deathworlds.” When this clearly wasn’t as helpful as he thought it would be, he elaborated further: “Planets with harsh terrain, hostile fauna, lethal weather patterns. A Deathworlder has adapted to thrive in these conditions. You make a home out of a place that is difficult for most aliens to even survive.” 

Patton frowned, confused. “You’re surviving just fine, aren’t you?” 

Anxiety’s faceplate twitched slightly, an expression they had no reference for. 

“I thought Patch would kill me for our entire first interaction.” For the first time, a sense of his voice was audible even through the machine-tone translator. “I pay attention to danger. This planet is full of things that could very easily kill me.” 

His extra limbs twitched slightly, as though he’d said more than he’d meant to, and he firmly averted his gaze to the ground. 

Abruptly, Roman realized that they were one of the things Anxiety was referring to. The primal panic that they’d witnessed while interacting with him wasn’t a farce or an exaggeration. To Anxiety, humans were a potentially lethal threat.

“Patch?” Patton asked.

The angles of Anxiety’s back limbs shifted to point at where Lady Macbeth was sprawled out in a beam of sunlight, content that all was well within her kingdom. 

“You renamed my cat?” Roman asked incredulously, and then, more pressingly, “If you thought she was going to kill you, why did you befriend her? You tried to stab me the moment we made eye contact!” 

Anxiety’s arms twitched in what seemed like a hastily-aborted shrug. “Predatory beasts normally kill to eat or to defend territory. Sapient species are capable of a lot worse. If I am going to die, I want it to be quick.” 

Something about the way the words were spoken, present tense and oddly direct, made Roman’s skin prickle unpleasantly. It was uncomfortably close to a request. 

(Sure, Anxiety understood their language, but had they ever said aloud that they wouldn’t kill him?)

“To aliens, humans are dangerous?” Logan asked, dragging them back on-topic. “How so? From my perspective, you have more natural weapons than we do.” 

Anxiety made a dragging chirp that seemed to serve as a wordless scoff. “Humans are impossible to kill. I bite you, and you hit me. My bite bothers you, but your hit shatters my exoskeleton. I bleed out and I die. Your body heals and you live.” 

Patton looked discomfited at the very idea.

“Aliens are delicate, compared to us,” Logan surmised. “Because the environments they evolved in weren’t as hostile as Earth.” 

Anxiety nodded a fist in confirmation. 

By the time Logan turned to him with a grim look, Roman had already put the same pieces together. 

“They wanted Remus because they were sure he would win,” he said, fists clenched at his sides. “Because he’s a Deathworlder, so he’s hard to kill.” 

Remus wasn’t being tossed to the lions. He was the lion, trapped and caged far from home. A monster only let loose to slaughter. 

Sure, maybe his brother wouldn’t die, but what kind of a life was that? Remus was sixteen. He was supposed to be trespassing in abandoned buildings with his shithead friends and creating bizarrely gory trash sculptures for his art portfolio, not fighting for his life in front of a crowd of alien scumbags. 

“How do we get him back?” he asked, lifting his jaw stubbornly.

Anxiety only watched him, making no move to speak into the translator. 

“Come on, there has to be a way,” he urged, shoving to his feet and staring down at the alien. “He can’t just be gone. I have to help him! You have to do something!” 

Patton stood too, frowning in a way that suggested he thought Roman needed to back off, take a few deep breaths. 

“Please!” Roman added instead, his voice cracking down the middle of the plea. “Please.” 

Anxiety shifted to press the record button again, but the laptop screen flickered and faded, nonresponsive. Their battery power had run out. 

With a displeased sound, Anxiety slowly rose back to his full height, immediately moving several steps away, and for a moment, Roman thought that was it, his begging had been rejected. It was hopeless, and there was nothing else to be said. 

Then, there was a strange crackling sound from Anxiety, who had turned to face away from them in an uncharacteristic move, his spidery limbs shifting tensely. 

“Give t—ime,” he spoke, the words nearly made unfamiliar by the odd pronunciation. “Thhhin—k.” 

“Think?” Roman echoed with uncertainty; the ‘th’ sound dragged so long it was almost a hiss. 

“You need time to think of a way?” Logan interpreted, clearly exercising all his willpower to remain where he was instead of circling around to see Anxiety’s face. 

“T—ry,” Anxiety emphasized. “Don—t. Hope.”

“Trying is all we can do,” Patton replied warmly, while Roman was still puzzling out the soft clicks Anxiety was using for the ‘T’ sound. “Thank you for trying to help us, Anxiety.” 

There was another odd noise, like the crinkling of paper, and Anxiety’s face was as concealed as ever when he turned and hurried back over to his makeshift bed, apparently done with speaking for the day. 

Feeling more than a little exhausted himself, Roman didn’t begrudge him it. All that mattered was that Remus was alive, and they would figure out a way to rescue him. Anxiety might have warned them not to hope anything came of his efforts, but long odds had never stopped Roman from hoping before. 

He wasn’t giving up on his brother. No matter what it took to bring him home. 

[piliiiiconfusionf]

HEYO ok this is an old doodle I just decided to just give as finished XD

This as some sort of cover I had for a fic I made inspired by my friend's (@fandombead) fic! The title was also her idea :D this was after the fic "Imagi-cation Getaway" (never missing an opportunity to smack you with this one on your faces/POS/silly).

I got inspired and wrote my interpretation of one of her ideas in the fic XD "Night of Furby's Revenge" which you can read here :D hope you enjoy! It's the last thing I have written in a while but I'm actually really happy with it!

Version without the name under cut!

[oldkamelle]

demo's ma showed up and the entire room cheered