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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 31]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 3-8 and what I have of Chapter 9 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

Still feeling unmotivated. I’ve got to get this presentation done though.

Chapter 9

Khalid immediately called everyone back to base.

“What happened?” asked Fred when he and Lena arrived. The tech people were already scrambling to get through to the TPI and get the time lock broken from the outside.

“Remus, Remy, and Khalid got played by Pat or whatever his name is. It certainly isn’t Nick. He was just setting up a joke,” Janus told him.

“Stop being smug,” Remy said. “It’s not a good look for you.”

“Pat is…?” Lena asked.

“They guy who fucked me over in 1923,” Janus said, “and is currently in the middle of fucking us all over because he stole the pin timepiece, and by extrapolation, probably the time bomb too.”

“It will be fine,” said Khalid, “because what he doesn’t know is that timepiece has a tracker on it. Wherever and whenever he went, we’ll have his coordinates.”

“Speaking of,” one of the techies said. “It’s about to break. You might want to hold onto something.” Janus grabbed for a support beam next to him as the techie put a device on the ground in the center of the base. It blinked once, twice, and on the third blink the ground rumbled. There were sounds of panicked yelps outside. The fail safe for the time lock was not nearly as gentle as ending it correctly.

Everything settled after a few moments, and they all straightened themselves out. Janus’s timepiece buzzed to indicate it was now functioning normally. Khalid had returned her usual timepiece to her wrist and now used it to open a display they could all see. “The pin timepiece’s closest time/space coordinates are…” she trailed off. “Right outside?” She frowned. “That’s strange. Why would he still be here?” She turned to march outside, following the coordinates to a trash can. She pulled the pin timepiece out and stared at it. “Fuck,” she said.

“What just happened?” Remy asked.

“He ticked us,” Janus said. “Again.”

“He was stuck in the time lock,” Khalid said. “That’s why he got our attention. He couldn’t leave with the time bomb unless he had the pin timepiece or we broke the time lock. Apparently, he’s smart enough to know that if he took the pin timepiece away from here, we’d probably be able to find him, but he knew we’d break the lock as soon as the pin went missing. So, he must have stashed his own timepiece and went back in time within the time lock to grab it while we were distracted with the past version of him. As soon as the time lock went down, I imagine he left.”

“Probably with the time bomb,” Janus said.

“Probably with the time bomb,” she confirmed.

And everyone knew the only thing worse than a time bomb was a time bomb you didn’t know the location of.

They evacuated after that, of course, and time locked the location once they were out just in case they were wrong, but midnight 3000 struck without thousands of people dying in Brazil, so the time bomb had defiantly been removed from then.

The, they initiated a time travel lockdown for all nonessentials, not willing to let random history students get caught up in an explosion if Pat decided to set the thing off somewhere.

Then, it was a matter of figuring out everything they could about ‘Pat.’ First, they checked the tracker data as Khalid had tagged him with one of the Millennium Bird trackers. It wouldn’t work outside of the zone they’d set up that day, but the record would show his behavior during the time lock after he’d escaped with the pin timepiece.

There had been many little green dots on the map that day as Fred and Lena had actually been doing the job they’d set out to do, but most of those were running around in the south. There had been one green dot, however, that appeared suddenly in the game area about 10 minutes before the time bomb had been stolen.

They could see Janus’s yellow dot almost brush his when he’d been chasing the earlier Pat down, around when he’d lost him briefly. The earlier Pat must have all but handed it off to his future self.

“He doubled back,” Remus commented when they watched the recorded data. It was a ballsy move and one that most people balked at, because there were inherent dangers any time you interacted with yourself from a different point in the timestream. It was ripe for paradoxes. It made everyone at the agency even more worried, because if he was willing to risk that, then what else was he willing to do?

Because of the lockdown of all nonessential time travel, people working for the TPI were not allowed to go home for the night. They were allowed to pick up anyone or anything dependent on them for care like kids and pets if there wasn’t someone in their home time to care for them, but other than that, they were unfortunately all sleeping in their offices for the foreseeable future.

“You are the only tolerable one,” Janus told the cat who upon being let loose in the office by Remus, immediately jumped on Janus’s lap.

“I have literally done nothing to you,” Lena said, but then added. “Yet.”

“You exist. In my space.”

“Can’t we just all get along?” asked Fred. “It’s only been an hour past when we’d usually go home. I went and grabbed milk and I have my giant thing of different flavored hot chocolate under my desk. We can try them all and vote on which is better.”

“Fuck your hot chocolate, Fred,” Janus growled, having been one of the three who had chipped in to buy it for him on his last birthday.

“Don’t go after Fred, jackass,” Lena spat.

“He’s just testy because his boyfriend escaped,” Remus contributed.

Janus’s lips turned down into a frown and he cupped Diesel Fuel’s face. “We agree we’re eating him first, right?” he asked her.

She purred her agreement.

“I’d have it no other way,” Remus replied.

“There is plenty of food,” Fred said, sounding stressed. “In fact, I was thinking we should all chip in on ordering take-out soon. “What does everyone like on pizza?”

“This is not a slumber party, Fred,” Janus pointed out.

“Shut it,” Lena snapped and turned to Fred. “I’m fine with almost everything, except…”

“Bananas and tuna salad!” Remus interrupted.

“…whatever Remus is about to say.”

Janus rolled his eyes as that started a debate about whether or not fruit and/or fish belonged on pizza. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, which was when there was a knock on the door.

He froze when he heard the familiar voice. “Hello, hello,” said Emile, cheerfully. Janus looked up to see Emile standing at the open office door. Shit. Apparently, the man had decided to give up on sending lackeys to come fetch him and had decided to track him down himself when Janus couldn’t even escape without breaking a time lockdown. They met eyes briefly and Janus could see irritation if not anger in his eyes despite his otherwise cheerful expression and tone.

“Janus,” he said when he’d gotten their attention. “I’d like to have dinner with you.” The word choice told Janus everything he needed to know. Usually Emile was careful with how he said things to make sure people knew they had a choice. Typically he’d say something like, “I was wondering if you’d have time to have dinner with me tonight,” or “I’m about to go get food, would you like to come?” Today, there was no choice in the statement.

Janus still dried to dodge anyway. “Uh,” he said. “We were actually about to order pizza.”

“Go ahead,” said Fred kindly. Janus wanted to strangle him. “We can order pizza with olives if you’re not here.”

“I…” said Janus. “Guess, I’ll be going with you.”

“Great!” Emile said. “Let’s go.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “Uh, now?”

“Now,” Emile said a bit of uncharacteristic steel to his tone.

Well, Janus was screwed. He swallowed his nervousness and got to his feet, taking Diesel Fuel with him. He turned to hand her off to Remus with a plea in his eye, but he just got an eyebrow raise in return. Traitor.

Then, he followed Emile out of the office door. “What would you like to eat?” asked Emile.

“Uh,” Janus said. “I don’t know. You asked me to eat, don’t you have any ideas?”

“I don’t actually,” Emile replied. Right.

“…Noddle Bar?” Janus threw out the nearest restaurant he knew.

“The one noodle restaurant? Sure,” Emile answered simply. They walked side by side out of the front doors of the TPI building. Janus actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken these stairs. He usually used his timepiece to get in and out.

The noodle bar was only moderately busy at this time. They were quickly able to find a table near the back and Emile pulled his menu up in front of him. Emile hummed as he flipped through the different displays. “What are you having?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Janus said, only then pulling up the menu himself, but still not quite looking at it.

“What about the fortune noodles,” Emile suggested.

Janus shook his head. “I don’t like those,” he said.

Emile glanced at him through the menu displays. “You used to.” Fortune noodles were a bit cheekily named. They didn’t actually indicate anything about your future. They were just supposed to taste like what you wanted from your future. A grad student might experience a feeling like they’d just aced a paper. A child that they got to stay up an hour later that night. Janus had liked the experience when he was younger, but in recent years, he’d begun to taste the underlying chemicals in the dish until that’s all he could.

“Well,” Emile said lightly, eyes on his menu. “That makes me even more worried for your mental health than I already was because of the almost three years of you avoiding talking to me.”

“No small talk, huh?” Janus asked.

“Forgive me,” Emile said, eyes now focused on Janus, and tone much darker. “How has your life been since I last saw your face 5 months ago during a business meeting and you refused to look me in the eye? Anything interesting happen? Shave your head and let it all regrow? Develop an allergy to peanuts? Join a convent and take an oath of silence that you only just broke today?”

“No,” said Janus quietly into the table.

“Great,” Emile said clipped. “Small talk over. Order your food.” Janus reached up blindly to select the first thing that came up on the food and drink menu as Emile punched something into his own and both menu displays disappeared, meaning there was nothing between their faces anymore. “You know, I was willing to give you a year,” Emile said. “I was willing to let you deal with it on your own because I thought eventually, you’d come talk to me about it, but apparently I was mistaken. The next year, I thought maybe you thought I didn’t want to talk to you, so I subtly made myself available, and you never took me up on the offer. I thought maybe I was just not being clear, and I should make my desire to talk to you more explicit, but as you have been routinely, clearly avoiding me at every single turn, I’ve decided I’ve had enough. So, let’s lay it all on the table. Is it me or do you need help?”

Janus closed his eyes. “It’s not you.”

“Then you need help,” Emile concluded.

Janus shook his head.

“Yes,” Emile snapped. “Whatever this is has gone on far too long.”

Janus stood up and slammed his hand down on the table. “And it’s going to keep going on!” he said. The food popped up at that moment. It appeared Janus had ordered lasagna and bubble tea, and Emile had ordered something with spaghetti and a fizzy drink.

“So, you’re just planning to go on being miserable then?” Emile asked, and Janus wasn’t sure if it was worse or better that he didn’t sound angry anymore.

Janus slapped his hand down on the “To Go” button and his dinner was insta-wrapped by the table. “Yes,” he said.

“What exactly do you think you’re paying penance for, Janus?” Emile asked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Janus said, paying for both of their meals with his fingerprint.

“That’s a cop out and you know it,” Emile said. “All you’d have to do is talk to me. Or even just talk to someone else. Please.”

“Just…” Janus said, grabbing his bag of food to avoid looking at him. “Just, leave me be.” He walked out of the noodle shop without another word.

Chapter 10

“And I thought Remus was going to be the most disgusting roommate in this equation,” Lena grumbled. Janus and Lena were apparently the earlier risers in the group as Fred was still curled up around a pillow and Remus was sprawled out under his desk.

Janus flipped her off.

“Protein infused Poptarts and caffeinated orange juice for breakfast?” she asked. “Just eat an energy bar and have a cup of coffee like a normal person.”

He took another pointed bite of his Poptart.

“You’re a horrible roommate. This is why they gave us different partners.”

“Yeah, well you snore, asshole,” Janus said after finishing off his meal.

“I’d tell you to go eat shit, but you already did that once this morning.”

A pillow flew across the room and somehow managed to hit the both of them. “S’op fighting,” Fred mumbled. “It’s sleep time.”

“It’s morning Fred,” Lena said.

“No,” Fred mumbled.

Janus ignored them, turning back to his integration port to continue to keep plugging in phrases of interest, but he kept getting nothing.

“What are you doing?” Lena asked after a few moments of him huffing at his screen reader.

“Trying to do anything that may change our current living arrangements.”

She puffed out an amused breath. “Can I help?”

“Can you see any connection between these words and phrases?” he asked, pulling away his screen reader and tapping at the words he’d typed out.

“Paranoid, tonight, I live to party, comeback, love Bug, BB good, Mandy, Macy Misa, I believe, cool, that’s just the way we roll, burnin’ up,” she said. “What are these?”

“They’re things Pat said when we interrogated that struck me funny,” Janus explained. “I feel like he was saying something more than what he said.”

“Hmm,” she said. “PTI for the first three?”

“Maybe,” Janus agreed, “but what about the rest of it? I feel like I’m missing something.”

15080

“Millennia,” Remus mumbled from under his desk. Janus hadn’t been aware he was awake. “He said something something about it being the only time he could see the change of the millennia.” He turned his head to look at Janus. “Considering he’s a time traveler, that’s definitely a weird thing to say.”

“Millennia,” Janus contemplated. “A different turn of the millennia. Oh no.”

“What?” Lena asked.

Janus sighed, and rubbed his temple. “I know someone who studied the 1700-2200s.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“No,” Janus groaned, “because now I have to go talk to him.” He stood with a sigh and then paused. “How do I even get to Silver Mountains University without my timepiece?”

Luckily Sliver Mountains ended up only being about an hour away from the TPI by time adherent travel, but considering Janus was used to his travel being instantaneous, it was an aggravating trip. He had to show ID and be buzzed up to the fourth floor since it was usually locked to everyone not traveling by timepiece or who worked in the office.

The receptionist was the same man as before. “I’m here to speak to Professor Eran,” Janus said.

The receptionist nodded. “He mentioned you asked to meet him but didn’t know when you’d arrive. He’ll be done teaching his class in about 5 minutes. You can wait over there.”

Janus nodded and sat, waiting for time to slowly tick by. Virgil arrived after a few minutes, lugging a giant bag with him. He caught sight of Janus and wordlessly jerked his head towards the hallway. Janus followed him.

“What’s in the bag?” Janus asked.

“Early 21st century cell phones,” Virgil said, dropping it on his desk. “I let my students mess around with them for their lab.”

“I see,” Janus said.

“What did you need?” Virgil asked. “You said it was official business.”

“You’ve heard about the lockdown, I presume,” Janus said.

“Yeah, it really screws up my research schedule for the summer,” Virgil said.

15412

“Do you know why the lockdown was instituted?” Janus asked. Virgil shook his head, so Janus explained briefly that they had been trying to find a timebomb on the eve of the year 3000, but it had been swiped by a free agent time traveler. “Some of the things seemed to be references to things that I couldn’t place, and I was wondering if you would recognize any.”

“Shoot,” Virgil requested, seeming intrigued by the prospect.

“Okay,” Janus said. “First, the alias he was using was Nick Jonas.” A weird expression crossed Virgil’s face immediately and Janus paused.

“You said the year 3000?” Virgil asked.

“Er. Yes.”

“Nick Jonas. Year 3000,” Virgil repeated with a snort. “Were Joe and Kevin a part of this too?”

Janus blinked. “Yes, how did you know that?”

“Yo-you’re going to have,” his sentence was broken by a giggle, and actual full-fledged giggle, “have to give me a minute.” With that, he sort of listed to the side and seemed to purposefully fall off his chair onto the floor under his desk.

Janus blinked and when he didn’t surface after a moment, he stood up to lean over the desk and look down at him. Virgil had his arm thrown over his beat red face, as he shook from what Janus thought was suppressed laughter.

“What?” Janus asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Just…” Virgil said, sobbing through his laughter. “Just tell me the things he said.”

“Er, mostly he just had weird inflections on words and phrases. There was ‘paranoid, tonight, I live to party, comeback…’”

“Wait, stop,” Virgil said. “Let me guess a few. That’s Just the Way We Roll, Burnin’ Up, Sucker.”

“The first two were, but not the last one.”

Virgil laughed. “Maybe the last one was just implied.”

Janus frowned down. “What are you talking about? What does this all mean?”

Virgil pulled himself out from under his desk and grabbed his bag of phones. He dug through it for a few seconds before pulling one out and handing it to Janus. “I have a lab for my students where they get preloaded phones from the early 21st century and are supposed to guess the demographics of the person who owns it. This one is an iPhone 3 meant to belong to a pre-teen to teenage girl from the year 2009. Look under music artists starting with the letter ‘J.’”

15810

Confused, Janus scrolled through the old style phone, finding the music app and opening it easily. Upon getting to the ‘J’s, he immediately paused on an artist called the ‘Jonas Brothers.’ He clicked on it and read a few of the song titles. They weren’t all there, but…

“That rat bastard,” Janus said.

“Scroll to the bottom,” Virgil said. Janus did and found a song titled ‘Year 3000.’

“You’re kidding me.”

“Click on it,” Virgil requested.

Janus did, listening to the fairly standard pop like intro from the time period. It wasn’t until he got to the lyrics saying, ‘He told me he built a time machine’ that he cursed, understanding exactly what Pat had been doing. When the singer a few lines latter proclaimed that his neighbor said ‘I’ve been to the year 3000’ he almost smashed the artifact to pieces right then and there.

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Virgil said, “but he’s a comedic genius.”

Chapter 11

Khalid caught him on his way back into the TPI building. “I heard you went to Silver Mountains to follow up on a lead,” she said.

“Yeah, but it was garbage,” he seethed. “All I learned was ‘Pat’ knows early 2000s popular culture and likes to fuck with us.”

She hummed. “I’d still like a report about whatever you found. Who knows what we might end up getting from seemingly inconsequential data.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I have a mission for you.”

“We’re on lockdown,” Janus pointed out with a frown.

“For nonessentials,” she said. “This is essential.”

“What happened?” Janus asked.

“We picked up a small time distortion in France 2027. At the moment, it is small enough not to cause any disruptions, but it is slowly growing, and we don’t know what caused it. Usually we’d just send surveillance agents at this stage, but considering what’s going on, I think it would be best to send a field agent. And it would just be you, because we don’t want to send too many people out at once.”

“Is this related to the time bomb?” Janus asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “At the very least, it’s not it being set off as it was in 2999, but if it’s been altered for some other purpose…”

“I’ll go,” Janus said.

“I’ll send over the mission directive to everyone who needs it. You’ll go in around 3 hours.”

He nodded. “I’ll be ready,” he agreed.

In less then 3 hours, he was dressed for 2027 France and in decontamination. “Well,” he said out loud when he was given the all clear sign, “I hope I don’t explode.” He selected the coordinates on the timepiece and the next moment he was in a small alleyway in the city of Montpellier, France in 2027.

It was a little bit warm, but not stifling even in the mid-afternoon and he could faintly smell the sea on the breeze.

After a moment to get his bearings, Janus made his way out of the alleyway and onto a small street. The street was lined with restaurants and shops as people went about their daily lives. He carefully integrated himself into the crowd and began weaving his way through them. He needed to find the source of the distortion but doing a quick scan with his timepiece told him there wasn’t any sign of it yet. He’d have to wait for it to act up.

For now, he decided to get slightly away from people by heading towards the river. He found a park that had benches along water.

As he walked towards the river, he noticed a man on the bench, angled slightly away from Janus and looking out at the water. He immediately recognized the man. “You!” he exclaimed.

Pat’s head shot around to look at him, and he gave a slight head tilt. Then, he smiled, amused. “You are not the person I’m here for,” he said.

“Well, I am now,” Janus snapped. “Where’s the time bomb?”

“Time bomb?” Pat asked, eyebrows drawing together, but amusement on his lips. “Oh sweetie, the time bomb happened a long time ago for me.”

“What?” Janus asked.

“Oh, you’re just a baby,” Pat laughed. “Don’t you get it yet? The two of us are out of sync timeline wise. You’ve been apparently running around with a much younger version of me, but all of that happened quite a while ago for me. Don’t worry though, it gets better.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The time bomb has been long deactivated. Here,” he reached into his pocket and tossed him something. Janus caught it on instinct. “Proof. Don’t worry, we took all of the dangerous bits out years ago from my perspective.” It was the core of a time bomb, the time bomb Pat had stolen if he was to be believed. “You can tell your people it’s safe to remove the lockdown.”

Janus curled his fingers around it. “I don’t get it.”

Something on Pat’s wrist beeped and he looked at it curiously before he stood from the bench, “and I don’t have time to explain it.”

Janus jerked forward to grab his wrist. “Don’t you dare.”

Pat reached up to pat his face. “Don’t worry honey, you’ll be seeing me later.” He twisted his wrist and a small electric current sparked between them. Janus jerked his hand away, and Pat smiled at him. “Or… earlier.” He winked, and then he was gone.

Janus cursed, but he didn’t have more than a moment to be angry because in the next second there was a yelp, and something landed on top of him. He was bowled over into a tangle of limbs and pained noises.

“Oh my god, we need to figure out the height thing,” a familiar voice groaned, just as Janus managed to pull himself away. Pat blinked up at him and his eyes narrowed. “You,” he hissed.

“…What?”

Pat jumped to his feet, leaving Janus on the ground in front of him. “What are you doing here?” he spat, his tone much different then the one he’d been using a moment earlier. His hair was longer than it had been before, and if Janus looked closely, he did seem like he was a couple of years younger suddenly. Out of sync timelines. I’ll see you earlier. Holy shit.

He was suddenly very glad he’d been forced to let the other Pat (the older Pat?) go, else they’d have a whole thing on their hands.

“What are you doing here?” was Janus’s retort as he stood up and dusted himself off.

“It’s none of your business,” Pat told him.

“It is my business,” Janus said, “because for all I know, you are the cause of the time distortions I’m after. Considering that I doubt you have a license for that,” he waved at the odd looking timepiece of Pat’s wrist, “it’s very possible.”

“What are you?” Pat asked, “the time police.”

“Yes.”

Pat dared to roll his eyes, but then he tilted his head slightly. “Time distortions?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

He still had a confused frown on his face. Did… did he not know what a time distortion was?

Just then there was a sudden flash of lightening through the sky despite the absolutely lack of clouds. He and Pat both looked up.

“Is that the time distortion?” Pat asked.

“It’s probably the beginning of it,” Janus said.

“That doesn’t look good,” Pat said as he squinted at the sky.

“Just wait,” Janus answered grimly. He looked at Pat. “Usually I’d arrest you on the spot,” he said, “but I’m alone for this one, and that is far more important at the moment. So, have a nice day doing whatever bullshit you are doing.” He glanced at his timepiece.

Janus turned to walk away from him.

“Wait!” Pat exclaimed, and Janus turned back to him to see that his eyes were wide. Janus raised an eyebrow. “So, this time distortion thing is dangerous, right?”

“Depending on the severity, it could cause time to fracture around this place and time, basically erasing it from existence and killing everyone in it.”

“Well, in that case, I should go with you. To help.”

Janus looked him up and down. “You… have no idea what’s happening, do you? You’re an amateur.”

“I’m not,” he claimed. “I just. Pooling resources. You know?”

Janus sighed. “Well, you going around mucking about this time period without knowing what you’re doing could just exasperate the situation, so fine, you can tag along.”

“I know what I’m doing,” he grumbled even as he rushed to Janus’s side at the permission.

“Sure,” Janus said with an eyeroll. He guessed he was a babysitter now. “I believe you.”

Chapter 12

There was something off about his readings. Clearly the time distortion was starting to pull at this place with the way the weather was flickering between storming and sunny, but he still couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact location of the source of it. He could, however, get that it must be somewhere on this side of the river more into the downtown area, so that’s the way he was walking, Pat close on his heels.

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asked.

Janus shot him a glare. “Elvis Presley,” he said.

Pat frowned, clearly knowing who that was. “There’s no reason to be mean.”

“You did it to me first.”

“…Introduced myself as a famous musician?” he asked. Janus didn’t respond, and after a moment, Pat laughed lightly. “You really don’t understand time travel, do you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Janus said. “Name the three types of time distortions.”

“Just because I don’t know the names of things doesn’t mean I don’t understand them.” He stuck out his tongue. Janus was dealing with an actual toddler. “Unlike you who has a bunch of fancy words, but just caused a time loop.”

Janus scoffed. “I did not just cause a time loop.”

“Maybe not a big one,” Pat agreed, “but you did.”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never introduced myself to you with a musician’s name, but now you’ve told me that I will. So, at some point in the future I will have to, thereby making you think to say that now. Time loop.”

“That’s not… that doesn’t count.”

“Does too,” Pat claimed. “Like I have said once before and you may or may not have heard me say before, anything you do to me to get back at me for something I haven’t done yet, just causes whatever that is to happen in the first place.”

“But you’re still going to do it.”

“Then take it up with future me. I haven’t done anything to you.” Then he paused and sighed. “…Which I guess means you’ve done nothing to me.” He seemed to mull this concept over for a long moment. “Well you were a bit crabby about me not knowing what a time distortion was, but I can forgive you for that.”

“And I’m supposed to forgive you?”

“Like I said,” Pat said. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You also haven’t done anything to endear yourself to me either,” Janus grumbled.

“Hmm,” Pat said. “Fine.” He pulled something out of his pocket. “You’re obviously not having much luck finding whatever you’re looking for. Tell me what it is and I’ll help.”

Janus squinted at what was in his hand. “Is that… an iPhone 5?”

“No!” he said. “It’s super-secret time travel tech disguised as an iPhone 5!”

“We’re in 2027,” Janus said. “Not a great disguise. Those things have been obsolete for a decade.”

“Well I’ll keep in mind to have my tech disguised as phones from the right year next time,” Pat said, sticking out his tongue. “Now what are we looking for?”

“If my timepiece can’t find it, I’m certain yours can’t.”

Pat rolled his eyes and tapped on the device’s screen a couple of times. “I’m going to guess it’s that,” he said proudly.

Janus leaned over to look at the screen. “Are you using google maps?” he sputtered.

“It integrates time relevant data like traffic conditions and local weather warnings with time travel technology,” Pat explained. “Something seems to be going on in a museum a couple of blocks that way.”

“I…” Janus said. That was actually a really good idea, usually unnecessary with scouts observing that data beforehand, and Janus wasn’t sure how good the accuracy would be considering whatever was taking it into account was automated, but still a good idea. “Well, I guess since we have no other leads, we can check it out.”

Pat looked far too proud for having only used a piece of tech that hadn’t even been confirmed as accurate. “Then, let’s go,” he said right as a chilly wind started to pick up and a couple of snowflakes began to fall around them. “Before that gets worse…”

Janus let Pat lead with his iPhone. Janus’s timepiece still wasn’t picking up a clear signal for some reason, but it seemed to point in the same general direction as Pat’s. Strangely though, as they got closer to their destination, the signal started to get fuzzier. Pat’s tech seemed unaffected leading them closer to the museum.

When they got to the Musée Fabre museum, Janus stopped. “What?” Pat asked. He was shivering slightly in the cold and holding his arms around himself.

“My timepiece stopped working completely,” he said.

“I’m assuming that’s weird?” Pat said.

“It is,” Janus confirmed, turning to squint at him suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not the one doing it?”

“If I was doing it, wouldn’t I have just knocked it out from the get go?” Pat questioned.

Janus pursed his lips. “I don’t know,” he said. “Would you have? Maybe it’s a trick.”

Pat’s eyes narrowed a bit on him. “Think what you want, but I’m freezing. Come in with me if you want.”

He dithered from a few moments before following Pat inside. Pat had already struck up a conversation with the woman charging admission into art museum. She was looking at him, her brow knit as he spoke. Janus nudged him away from her getting a confused glance from him in return. He shot a smile at the woman.

“Two adult passes for the museum and the Hotel Sabatier d’Espevran, please,” he said, placing down 14 euro.

“Ah,” she said, still looking at Pat oddly. “Yes sir.” She gave them the passes and Janus quickly shuffled Pat away.

“What is wrong with your French?” he hissed once they were out of earshot.

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

“You sound like you’re reading Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. No one talks like that anymore.”

“I’m a little rusty,” Pat defended himself.

“Two centuries?” Janus asked. Pat stuck his tongue out like a child once again. “Is that your only way to respond to legitimate criticism?”

“What does it even matter anyway? No one ever expects time travel, at least not for something so silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Janus said. “It’s a legitimate issue. The wrong person who’s watched too much science fiction notices and you’re putting the timeline at risk. Not to mention if there are other time travelers around that aren’t as nice as me.”

“Are there a lot of time travelers around?” Pat asked, sounding intrigued.

“There are plenty, both legal and not.”

“Huh,” he said, “but what are the chances we’ll run into another one?”

“Considering the time distortion? There could be many. Opportunists wanting to capitalize off the chaos, people trying to stop it, like me, and not to mention the person who caused it.”

“Wait, someone made it happen?” Pat asked.

“These things don’t just happen naturally.”

“Huh. So, something like this has to be caused by a person?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “…Why?”

Pat smiled. “No reason. I think we should head upstairs. Whatever I’m picking up says it’s around here, but I don’t see anything. Maybe it’s a floor or two above us.”

“Which is why it’s ridiculous to use Google Maps.”

“Would you rather use yours?” he asked sweetly.

“I’m still not convinced it’s not your doing,” Janus growled. “Why does your tech still work when mine doesn’t?”

“Probably the same reason the ring did,” he muttered.

“What?”

“You may be the most aggravating being in the universe.”

Pat glanced at him with a bit of a smirk. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “It would be a much bigger risk to the timeline than me speaking in French from the 1830s. But, I’m pretty sure the reason mine still works is just a software difference.”

“What the hell do you mean a software difference?”

Pat opened his mouth, doubtlessly to supply him with yet another frustratingly cheeky and unhelpful answer. Yet, Pat did not have a chance to do so as, just as Janus stepped onto the second floor of the museum, the ground started to violently shake. Janus tried to turn to catch Pat as the other man’s foot slipped on the last step, but he couldn’t do so in time. Pat fell onto his hands and knees, sliding back a few steps and smacking his face into the stairs hard once and then a couple of times more after that as he slid.

Chapter 13

The room stopped shaking after a moment. “Ow,” Pat said. He seemed a bit stunned but was still moving at least. He carefully maneuvered himself into a seating position. “Ouch. Owie.” He reached up to poke his own nose. “Ow!” Janus slapped his hand away when he got there. A bit of blood was already trickling from his nose and there was a small cut over his eye, but it wasn’t bleeding too much.

Janus pushed him so he was leaning slightly forward and produced a pack of time appropriate tissues from his pocket. He pulled one out of the package and offered it to him.

He took it and pressed it up against his nose to try to stop the bleeding. He seemed mostly alright though Janus imagined he’d have plenty of bruises down the line. The power in the museum flickered and Janus looked up. Now that he was listening, he could hear people panicking in and out of the museum.

“We should probably get off of the stairs,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Pat agreed. Janus helped him to his feet, and they climbed back up the steps. Janus looked around and found an employees only sign a few feet away. Usually he’d not risk that as it could get him into trouble he didn’t want to be in, but considering the earthquake that had just happened, he could probably play it off as panic.

He ushered Pat into a small room and found a chair and table. He had Pat sit in the chair and pulled out another one of the tissues to dab at the blood coming from the cut over his eyes. “Here,” he said. “Hold that there. I’m going to go see if there are any bandages about.”

Pat took the tissue with the hand not already holding one to his nose. “Thanks,” he said.

Janus nodded and got to his feet. The lights flickered once again but didn’t stay off for now. He didn’t know how long that would last.

He couldn’t see anything that might hold bandages in this room, but there was a second door. “I’ll be right back,” he told Pat, exiting through it.

The lights flickered once more as the door closed behind him and he cursed. When they came back up Janus’s eyes immediately fell on a man. They both froze.

“Remus!” Janus hissed the second their eyes met. “What are you doing here?”

Remus blinked at him for a moment. “Hi. Janus,” he said. “I… come to France for… tea sometimes?”

“There isn’t any tea back here.”

“So, there isn’t…” he said. There was a moment of silence. “Uh, so I actually cannot talk to you right now.”

“What do you mean?” Janus asked. Remus grimaced in a way Janus had never seen from him before. It immediately set off alarm bells in Janus’s head. “Oh my god,” Janus said. “Oh my god. You’re not from the same time as me.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Remus mumbled.

“Holy shit, you’re looping?!”

“It’s… not looping if I wasn’t here the first time.”

“Remus, we spend more than 12 hours a day together most of the time. The only thing worse than this is if I looped back to this time myself.”

“…Yeah. Anyway, I need to leave now.”

“Please do.”

He turned to go, but then stopped. “Oh, and,” he reached into his pocket and tossed something at Janus. Janus caught it.

It was Band-Aids.

“Oh, shit,” Janus spat at the clear use of foreknowledge. “I hate this. I hate you. I’m going to kill you the next time you see me.”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Go.”

He did, slipping into the next room while Janus took a deep breath and then turned back to the door behind him. He schooled his face before Pat looked up. “I found some Band-Aids.”

Pat nodded and Janus came over to squat next to him.

Janus opened the box and Pat looked down. His eyes lit up with sudden joy so intense that Janus felt like he’d just gotten a punch to the gut. “Kitty Band-Aids!” he exclaimed. Janus bothered to actually look at the design on the container, only to note the cartoon cats on the front. Pat was almost vibrating off his seat. “Look they’re all so cute!” He grabbed the container from him to inspect the different designs printed on the back with glee even as a bit of blood was still trickling from his nose.

Janus took the box back gently and guided the wad of bloody Kleenexes back to his nose.

“Which would you like?” Janus asked.

“Oh, they are all so cute,” Pat cooed. “Um, how about that one!” he pointed. “Or that one! Or that one!”

“Pat you only have one cut.”

“But they’re all so cute!” Pat said, tongue tucking into his cheek. He contemplated the box again. “Let’s do the black one,” he finally settled on.

Janus selected one of the Band-Aids with a black cat wrapped around a pink ball of yarn and staring back at them with wide green eyes. The think looked like it had partaken in one two many doses of catnip, but Janus didn’t mention that.

Instead, he just carefully unstuck the backing from the Band-Aid and motioned for Pat to remove the tissue from his forehead. He smiled at Janus as he drew back.

Janus cleared his throat. “How’s the nose.”

“It’s slowing down,” Pat replied. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Janus replied. They met eyes for a second before Pat looked away back at the box of Band-Aids.

“Oh,” Pat said. “There’s a grey one. I didn’t notice.” He pointed to it. “I should have used that one.”

“Do you like grey cats?” Janus asked.

“I like all kitties,” he said, “but one of my roommates loves grey cats. He had one when he was a kid and thinks of them as good omens. Seeing one always brightens up his day.”

“A friend of mine has a grey cat,” Janus said. “She’s much more tolerable than him.”

Pat laughed a bit. “Don’t be mean,” he said.

“Oh, he deserves it, don’t worry.” Janus considered him for a moment. “Here,” he said, pulling out one of the Band-Aids with the grey cat on it. It did, actually, look a lot like Diesel Fuel.

“But I don’t…”

Janus just shrugged and stuck it on his cheek where there was no wound. Pat giggled and touched it with a finger. Janus stood back up.

“Can I have another tissue?” Pat asked.

“Sure.” Janus handed a tissue over to him and he crumpled up the bloody ones in his hand.

“I think I’m good to keep going,” Pat said, putting the new tissue under his nose. “The nose will stop soon.”

Pat got out his iPhone and directed him back out of the room. They checked the second floor and didn’t find anything and so went to the third floor. The second they arrived in the room that Pat’s phone was directing them too, Janus knew that it must be right. There was a strange, distorted whirling sound and the entire room was shaking slightly like they were standing next to a railroad track.

“I’m guessing this is it,” Pat said.

Janus nodded and looked over his shoulder at the screen. They both cautiously walked towards where the little dot was on the phone.

“Is that it?” Pat asked, pointing at a small device on the center column in the room. Janus reached forward to flip the switch on it. The whirling stopped and the room settled. Janus’s time piece vibrated as it came back online. They waited for a few moments. “I assumed… time distortions would be more…”

“They are,” Janus said. “This one is artificial.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a simulation,” Janus said. “It causes similar symptoms to a time distortion, but it’s not actually fracturing time at all.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Pat asked.

“I don’t know,” Janus said. He took the piece of tech of the wall and carefully stored it in his pocket, “but someone’s trying to get our attention.”

Chapter 14

Janus didn’t feel comfortable leaving France 2027 just yet, still weirded out by the strange turn of events. So, he and Pat ended up sticking around for a couple of hours. They looked through the art museum for a bit, but Janus was having trouble focusing on the pieces, and Pat eventually suggested they get some air. Janus agreed considering the museum would close for the night soon anyway.

They wandered around the downtown for a bit. The people seemed to jump back from the strange weather and earthquake that afternoon rather quickly, and there were plenty still about to blend into.

Pat was snapping photos every so often like a tourist which Janus shook his head at but allowed because even with the outdated phone it almost made them blend in even more. It also might stop any questions about Pat’s weird way of speaking French. They could just say he was an overeager tourist who watched too many old movies.

“Ooo!” Pat said. “We should get crepes.”

“Why?”

“You can’t go to France and not eat crepes.”

“I assure you, you can,” Janus said dryly.

Pat shot a pout at him and the next thing he knew he was in a small crepe shop.

For Janus, choosing something was easy. He just ordered the first thing he found on the menu which seemed to be a standard one with ham and eggs. Pat on the other hand seemed to be struggling greatly, and Janus had to gently push him to the side to let some other customers order first.

“What should I get!?” Pat asked. “They all look so good! I could do strawberry preserves or maple syrup or just sugar!”

“Or you could get one that is actually food,” Janus suggested mildly. “I don’t think you need any more sugar judging by how you are acting.”

Pat rolled his eyes. “You sound like Lo.”

Janus made a note of the name ‘Lo’ even though it surely was a nickname.

“But, since you’re insisting, I’ll get something healthy. I’ll have the strawberry one. That’s a fruit!”

“It comes with a cream cheese filling,” Janus pointed out.

“And it’s fruit!”

Janus shook his head and stepped up to the counter. “One ham and cheese and one strawberry preserve, please,” he said to the cashier as he was not allowing Pat to order in French and accidently say something stupid. He forked over some euros.

“You don’t have to pay for me,” Pat protested when he saw that.

Janus glanced back at him. “I was afraid you’d try to pay in francs,” he said dryly.

It looked like Pat was about to stick his tongue out at him, remembered that Janus had criticized him for that earlier, and then just scrunched up his face in displeasure as though that was any less childish.

They waited for their crepes to be finished and then went to eat them outside near a water fountain.

“I can pay you back for the crepe,” Pat said after they sat down. “I do actually have euros.”

Janus waved him off. “It wasn’t that expensive.”

Pat hummed. “Well, in that case. I insist on paying for a wish for you.” Janus raised an eyebrow. “In the fountain!” Pat clarified.

Pat set aside his crepe to dig in his pocket for a couple of coins. “Here!” he said handing one over.

Janus glanced over at the fountain. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Pat beseeched. “You have to want something. I’ll even throw it in for you, but you have to make a wish first!”

“No.”

“Please!”

Janus sighed. “Fine.” He popped the rest of his crepe in his mouth. “I wish for a crepe,” he said after swallowing.

“You just had a crepe, silly.”

“But I liked it, so I want another one.”

“We can go back and get you another crepe.”

“Ah, but I’m not hungry anymore.”

Pat crossed his arms. “You’re just being difficult on purpose.”

“Not me,” Janus said putting hand over his heart. “I would never do something like that.”

Pat glared at him, but then snatched the coin out of his hand. “Fine!” he said. “One crepe wish coming right up.” He hopped up with the two coins and darted over to the water fountain. Janus turned to watch him go but then happened to catch sight of something out of the corner of his eyes.

Pat’s phone.

He didn’t pause in his movement, completing the turn, but as he watched Pat close his eyes, presumably to focus on his own wish, Janus snuck a hand out and grabbed the phone without looking. He slipped it into his own pocket.

Pat came back over after throwing both coins in the fountain and didn’t even seem to notice that his phone was missing, picking up his crepe to take another bite. Just to make sure, though Janus decided to distract him. “What do you think of your crepe?” Janus asked.

“I like it! It’s sweet, but not too sweet. There was a crepe place across the street from my apartment in college, but they always put a bit too much sugar in the dough, I think. I’d still eat them, but these are much better.”

Janus nodded and kept up the light conversation until Pat was finished.

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“Well,” he said then, getting to his feet. “It seems that nothing else is going to happen regarding the time distortion. I should be getting back.”

Pat hummed. “I should too. It’s movie night!”

“I probably should arrest you,” Janus noted.

“In the middle of all of these people?” Pat asked mildly.

“Touché,” Janus said.

Pat gasped and pointed at him. “Pun!” he said. Janus blinked at him. “Because we’re in France! That’s French!”

“…Goodbye Pat,” Janus said, turning to walk away from him.

“Goodbye… wait I still don’t know your name!”

Janus stopped to look back at him for a moment. “Like I said,” he replied. “Elvis.”

“Fine,” Pat said. “Au revoir, mon chéri.”

“You never stop, do you?” Janus asked.

Pat giggled. “Considering I don’t know what you mean, I imagine I’m just getting started.”

Janus actually left then, walking off towards the alley he’d first arrived in. In some ways, the mission had been a bust, but in others it had gone very well.

He felt for the weight of the phone in his pocket before pulling up the display screen on his timepiece to go back to the TPI.

It had gone very well indeed.

Chapter 15

The first thing Janus had done when he’d returned to the TPI was hand over the timebomb to Khalid who sent it to forensics. Within the hour, forensics got back to them that it was the same timebomb as 2999 and that it had never exploded, but simply been diffused. Which meant, blessings on blessings, everyone got to go home that night.

Not that Janus went home, no, he ended up falling asleep on his desk somewhere between 3 and 4am, but at least he wasn’t sharing his space with anyone. He’d been trying to hack the cell phone all night to see if it had anything he could use, but he honestly had no idea what he was doing. All it seemed he could do was play some annoying song over and over again about never giving someone up. At around 2am, he’d finally broken and sent off an email, though, he’d continued to try to mess with it after that.

He got woken up by Lena coming into the office at 7am, and noticed he already had an email response asking when Janus wanted to come in.

“Now?” he sent back.

“…Do you sleep?” was the immediate response. “And yes.”

His wrist buzzed as an appointment in 5 seconds downloaded to his timepiece. He selected the coordinates and landed at Cultural Outreach. The receptionist blinked up at him and then back down at the screen on his desk. “Oh!” he said. “I didn’t see this appointment. I think Professor Eran is in his office.”

He didn’t stand to escort Janus this time, so Janus went ahead and went down the hall to Virgil’s office himself.

He knocked on the door and while he was waiting for Virgil to open it, the infernal contraption once again started to play the same stupid song.

“I didn’t even touch you!” he spat, getting it out and tapping on the screen.

“Jonas Brothers dude again?” Virgil asked causally upon opening the door.

Janus shoved it at him. “Make it stop.”

Virgil took it and fiddled with it for a few moments before it stopped with the song. “Oh my gosh,” he said scrolling through something on the screen.

“What.”

“What maniac sets a custom alarm for every 30-60 minutes for a week that just plays ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’? Oh, and one ‘It’s Not Unusual’ on Saturday. He’s mixing memes at an alarming rate.”

“Can you. Just. Make it not happen. Anymore?”

Virgil smirked at him. “Maybe.” He turned around to go back into his office.

“Virgil,” Janus growled following him in.

Virgil just laughed. “What do you want to know about it?” he asked. “Just a fair warning… the song means he… likely was aware someone would steal it.”

“Of course, he was,” Janus groaned.

“But I’m sure we can still get something out of it.” Virgil started tapping at the screen again. “Okay, let’s see. It’s an iPhone 5, and someone jailbroke it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Tampered with it so they could install non-company approved software,” Virgil explained.

“Well I figured that since he was using Google Maps to track time distortions,” Janus grumbled.

“I think I have something,” Virgil said to himself while digging through his desk. “Ah ha!” He held up some sort of cord. “This will let me hook it up to my integrator.” He slotted the cord into the bottom of the iPhone and then crawled under his desk to fiddle around with some other things. “There we go,” Virgil said popping back up. “It might take a few minutes. Running the program any faster might overheat the phone.”

Janus nodded and sat back to wait. Virgil grabbed the phone and started to play around with it a bit even as it uploaded all of its information to his computer.

“Weird,” Virgil said after a moment.

“What?” Janus asked, sitting up straighter.

“There are exactly two contacts. Fewer than I’d anticipate for a regular phone from the 2010s. More than I would expect from one clearly not being used as a phone.

Virgil glanced to the side, and it must have finished the download because he unhooked it from the computer. “I have a 21st century phone network adapter,” Virgil said. “It transfers call back to whatever date the phone says. Do you want to try calling one?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Janus replied.

Virgil dug back into his desk for a small device that he plugged into the same port he’d plugged the earlier cord. “Okay, which contact do you want to try first?” he asked. “One has ‘Ro’ with a crown, red heart, and a gold star emoji. The other has “Lo” with a book, blue heart, and Milky Way emoji.”

“He mentioned a Lo,” Janus said. “So, try him first.”

Virgil nodded. “I’ll put it on speaker.” He pressed some buttons before setting the phone on the desk between them.

The phone rang three times before with a bit of a crackle, it was answered. “Salutations,” a voice said, voice sounding a bit scratchy as though he had only just gotten up.

Virgil motioned with his head for Janus to speak. “Are you ‘Lo’?” he asked.

The man hummed. “To some people.”

Janus… didn’t quite know what to say to that, or even what questions he should ask.

“I’m assuming you’re the man that stole my associate’s phone.”

“Your associate?” Janus fished.

The man made an amused hum. “I believe you were calling him ‘Pat’ on your last adventure.” Janus could hear something being placed down on the other end of the phone. Before Janus could respond, he heard what sounded like an old keyboard being typed on. “Now,” Lo said. “I have to admit, I am surprised you were willing to oblige me so thoroughly by plugging the phone into your system. Let’s see…”

The screen on Virgil’s lit up bright blue all of a sudden. “…shit,” said Virgil.

“Well,” Lo said, “it seems you were clever enough not to plug it into the TPI system, which is disappointing, but…”

There was more clicking on the other end. “Hmm, interesting music tastes for the 4000s,” he said.

“I’m an anthropologist,” Virgil spoke up.

“Ah, yes, I can see that,” Lo replied. “Virgil Eran, senior professor at Silver Mountain University, a vetted member of the Cultural Outreach program, and searched the phrase ‘How to eat sushi without making a cultural blunder and making everyone hate you and losing your job because what kind of shit anthropologist doesn’t know how to eat raw fish right’ which you then shortened to ‘How to eat sushi’ and proceeded to search 52 times in the last 48 hours.”

Virgil went a bit scarlet around the ears. “Dude, did you really have to out me like that?” he hissed at the phone.

“My apologies,” Lo responded. “From my personal experience, don’t dip the rice parts in soy sauce, and don’t add too much wasabi. Overall, most people will be understanding of mistakes, and you will certainly not be fired or ostracized for handling food incorrectly. As long as you are not acting intentionally disrespectful, and I image you will not be considering your clear anxiety over whatever outing you are planning to attend, you will be fine.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. “Good point, but counterpoint, what if you’re wrong and everyone hates me forever?”

“Is it the lunch meeting today at 11:30am?” Lo asked, “because I can see that a Professor Boris Laden has attended the event multiple years in a row. Considering he is a philosophy instructor, has no Japanese heritage that I can see, and I have found a photo of last year’s event wherein he has placed his chopsticks vertically in his rice, and he has yet to be fired or ostracized, I would postulate that your fears are unfounded.”

“Yeah but… okay, I really don’t have an argument for that one, except maybe I’m a piece of shit and everyone is looking for a reason to hate me.”

“Considering your many impressive accolades in your field, I would argue that ‘a piece of shit’ is not a good descriptor of you. Not to mention the fact that you are often a highly requested member for different committees in your department and outside of it.”

“Oh, but is that because people like me or because I’m an anxious mess and make sure events go off without a hitch?”

“From experience, disorder with people you enjoy the company of is far more tolerable than order with people you do not. Which explains my current living situation and the lack of finished dishes in my sink. Therefore, I would assume the former.”

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“A lot of assumptions,” Virgil commented, but he was smiling slightly.

“Assumptions based on data,” Lo argued back lightly.

“You really came in here, hacked into my computer and smacked my anxiety in the face, huh?”

“Glad to have helped.”

“Y-”

“Are the two of you finished?” Janus interrupted, finally getting sick of the two of them.

“Not nearly,” Lo said. “I have gained access to an entire network of a very large university and will be sorting through the data for a long time.”

“Ugh, right,” Virgil groaned, “and you got access through my integrator.”

“I doubt they’ll be able to trace it back to you if you don’t tell them.”

“Nice try,” Virgil said dryly, “but not likely. I’m telling them about you immediately so they can work to kick you out.”

Lo laughed. “Fair enough, but I’ve already gotten plenty of information at this point. Including the fact that you work with the TPI and scheduled an appointment with an Agent Janus Picani this morning set to start a few minutes before this phone call. So, hello Janus.”

“Bastard,” Janus shot back.

“And goodbye Professor Eran. It was a pleasure.” He hung up.

Virgil sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “This is going to be fun to explain to both of our bosses.”

Arc II What We Do to Each Other

Chapter 16:

As it would turn out, Janus and Virgil did not get in trouble for hooking up the old phone to Virgil’s integrator, mostly because it wasn’t really a mistake on their part. The phone cleared all virus checks that the tech people both from the university and the TPI ran on it. The phone should have been clean and should not have caused an issue.

In fact, they were still trying to pin down the code on the general university server. They could tell that something was mucking about on the system but what or how was a mystery. This also meant that there was no telling what information had been compromised and considering how many things Silver Mountain had its hands in, that was… a bit worrying.

Another worrying thing was there was suddenly more activity of late at the TPI. There were more time distortions popping up every day. Usually they would be few and far in between. There had been 3 total recorded the year before, but over 12 in the last week. Some of them were fake like the one Janus had investigated, but some of them were real. It painted a distressing picture and also was a drain on their resources. Khalid was actually looking to advertise positions to hire new recruits which was something she rarely did as she liked to keep appointments to the TPI in house.

They’d even loosed the number of field agents needed for each mission and Janus and Remus had been splitting up just to get everything done. Today, he and Remus had thankfully only two missions scheduled for the day.

“Are we going together or separate today?” Janus asked Remus.

“Think they’ll burn me at the stake for being a witch if I go alone to either of them?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know. Probably. I think we’re getting a bit late into the 1700s for that in Cuba, but I have no idea about Mesopotamia.”

“Let’s just go together. I did not like almost drowning yesterday because I was the only stranger in town when the weather was going wonky.”

“Surely it isn’t because you opened your mouth. Ever.” Janus said dryly.

“How was I supposed to know he was the local clergyman’s son?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “On second thought,” he said, pushing a button on his desk to choose Cuba as he next mission, and standing up. “I don’t want you coming with me.” Yet, he did not protest when Remus also signed up for the Cuba mission and he waited for him by the office door before going to talk to Rhi.

Rhi was a bit frazzled when which meant quite a bit as she was usually incredibly put together. Remus didn’t even seem inclined to tease her today.

“Okay,” she said once they’d closed the door behind them. She flipped through some documents on her desk. “Picani and Clockson. Camaguey Cuba 1755. Do you know Cuba?”

“Uh,” Janus said. “Yeah?”

“Like you’re reading the things, right? I don’t have to babysit you, right? You got it? The Seven Year War was happening, but it won’t affect you much as it hasn’t really hit Cuba. It’s the middle of the Camaguey Carnival. Everyone will be everywhere and there will be chaos so as long as you don’t really fuck up you should be fine. Um…apparent races.” She looked up at them and studied them each for a moment as thought looking at them for the first time despite having known them for years. “It’ll work. Go to costuming.”

“Shouldn’t we…” Janus said, “sign things?”

“…Yep,” she said, fiddling with her desktop and then sending documents over to their side to sign.

Janus and Remus both did before sending them back.

“Great. Good.” She stood and grabbed some things from behind her. “You can go.” She sat back down as they took their things and Janus noticed a message pop up on her desk. She looked up at Remus looking exhausted. “What?” she asked.

“Just open it,” Remus said.

Rhi tapped it and a photo opened.

“I got her a new mouse toy!” Remus said happily as Rhi looked at the picture of Diesel Fuel attacking a cloth mouse.

“That is… appreciated Agent Clockson,” Rhi said. “Now get out.”

They did, leaving to get their costumes on and checked. Costuming was just as busy and frazzled as Rhi had been and they actually had to wait for decon because there’d been a mix up with the agents leaving before them. They landed in Cuba without issue. Janus could already hear the festival in full swing outside the small building they’d were in. Remy was standing there with a very not time appropriate mug of coffee.

“Sue me,” Remy said when Janus raised an eyebrow at it. “Please just… get in and out without causing trouble. Seriously. I don’t want to have to deal with that on top of everything else.”

“We’ll do our best,” Janus assured.

Remy pulled his sunglasses down to look at him. He looked exhausted. “God please do more than your best.”

Janus nodded tightly. “We’ll be in and out,” he said, already glancing at his timepiece. It had been disguised as a golden bracelet which made it a bit harder to actually use, but wrist watches wouldn’t be invented for more than a century, so they’d have to make do. “The time distortion, if that’s what it is, should be in the middle of town. Let’s go.”

He and Remus exited the building onto the packed city street.

Janus was immediately bombarded with all types of sights, sounds, and smells. There were many colorful articles of clothing and costumes as people went every which way along the street talking to other members of their community, playing instruments, and dancing. There was the sound of people speaking Spanish, still mostly almost pure Castilian Spanish with perhaps a bit of influence from Taino as the Haitian revolution had yet to push the Creole language over to Cuba. People must have been hard at work cooking different dishes for the carnival as many different spices wafted through the air. It was sticky hot considering it was the middle of June in the tropics and Janus was immediately sweating despite the temperature appropriate clothing he’d been outfitted with.

He glanced around their immediate area, just scoping out the crowds. His eyes were immediately drawn to one person near them.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said out loud when he saw Pat. Remus looked in the direction Janus was.

Even if Janus didn’t recognize him the moment he laid eyes on him, he probably still would have ended up staring as he was the only person in the area who clearly did not know how to do the dance he was attempting.

Remus snorted and Janus shook his head in secondhand embarrassment. “Well, would you look whose boyfriend’s here,” he said to Janus. Make that firsthand embarrassment. “Has anyone told him the Mambo wasn’t invented until the 1900s and also that’s not how you do it?”

Chapter 17

Pat stopped dancing the moment he saw Janus approaching him, but he still bobbed cheerfully ( and unrhythmically) to the music. “Hi Janus,” he said pleasantly.

“You just have to rub it in, huh?”

There was a flash of confusion across his face, but then he smiled. “Well, I know where in our relationship you are. How was France?”

“You’re a bastard.”

“You stole the phone,” he laughed.

“You stole the bomb,” Janus countered, “and you wanted me to steal the phone. You booby trapped it.”

“No,” Pat correct, putting a finger up. “We have security on my phone because in high school I once forgot it in the school locker room and long story short, the three of us ended up in a lake. So, then Lo made sure I always had some sort of tracker on it. When I started time traveling, he updated it and when I met you we updated it again in case there was ever an opportunity like that. Lo calls it using our weaknesses to our advantage.”

“He’s a bastard too,” Janus growled.

Pat just laughed.

“Is someone talking about me?” Remus asked, stepping over to them. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Patton said, blinking at Janus’s partner for a moment. “Remus.” He hesitated slightly. “How are you doing?”

“Me?” Remus asked. “Uh, I’m doing good. A little stressed out with work, but fine.”

“Good,” Pat said with just a little too much heartfulness to it.

“What?” Janus asked, eyes narrowed at Pat. “What is that?”

“What is what?” Pat asked. He met Janus’s eyes briefly and it made panic surge up Janus’s spine because the look Pat was sending him wasn’t one that said he was playing dumb. It was a warning.

Oh, Janus did not like this. That look told Janus Pat had some foreknowledge that he absolutely could not tell Janus about without messing up the timeline spectacularly. This was why this mess the two of them were mixed up in was so bad, but it seemed Janus did not have much of a choice when it came to Pat.

Despite how bad of an idea he knew it was, he still wanted to push, because whatever Pat was hiding could be very, very bad and it had to do with Remus. There were so many reasons Pat could be acting like that around Remus, but the worst ones were definitely the ones on his mind. Death, injury, illness. They were all possible especially in their line of work and especially with how time was being screwed with right now. And Pat knew. He knew exactly what the answer was, and oh did Janus want to push.

Experience knowing what worse things could come out of having foreknowledge made Janus bite his tongue.

“So, what are you two doing here,” Pat asked, and Janus unhappily let him change the subject.

“Oh, like you don’t know,” Janus replied.

“I don’t know,” Pat said innocently.

“There’s another time distortion,” Janus said, “and while you didn’t know what it was the last time I saw you, I’m pretty sure you do now.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there was a time distortion here. I can help you if you like,” he offered sweetly.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if I could find the Flying Dutchman,” Patton told him.

“And so you went to Camaguey?”

“Uh huh.”

“One of the farthest places from the ocean in Cuba?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t trust you.”

Pat just shrugged. “Well, if you don’t want my help finding the time distortion, I’ll just be on my way then.”

“Wait,” he said when Pat went to turn away. Pat paused. Janus turned to Remus. “Remus, do you think he’s bullshitting me so I let him wander off and do whatever the hell he’s doing, or do you think he’s bullshitting me into letting him come with us.”

“Hmm,” Remus said, looking Pat up and down. Janus could immediately tell he wasn’t going to get any helpful answer. “Well, if we’re going with the how much do I get to see his, admittedly very sexy, ass criteria.” Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Letting him leave now means instant gratification and a nice full image when he turns away. However, letting him go with us means many more opportunities to get a glimpse, but they’d probably just be glimpses. So, yeah that’s a tough call.”

“You didn’t even bother to give me an actual hidden suggestion with that bullshit,” Janus groaned. He glanced at Pat only to see him hiding his very red face in his hands. Janus blinked. “Oh,” he said. “You got him, Remus.” Janus was surprised. He’d expected a bit more tenacity for someone with Pat’s personality. Of course, Janus was used to Remus, so that perhaps had some effect. Pat made a muffled distressed sound behind his hands and Janus raised an eyebrow. “You really got him.”

Pat flapped one hand around while still using the other to completely hide his face. “It’s just. His face. Saying that. Is weird.”

Janus could not say that he didn’t feel a slight spark of joy at seeing Pat flustered. After all, Pat’s weapon of choice had often been flirting with Janus in the past. However, he still smacked Remus on the shoulder when it looked like he was about to continue with something likely far more inappropriate. “We are here for a reason,” he reminded. He turned to consider Pat and squinted at him. “You’re coming with us, I’ve decided. I don’t want to let you out of my sights. Don’t,” he said empathically turning to Remus as the man opened his mouth once more.

Pat had mostly recovered, though his cheeks were just a bit pink still. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll go with you. Where do we start?”

Janus glanced at his timepiece. “It’s not showing up on our trackers yet.”

“It messed with your tracker last time,” Pat pointed out.

“I know,” Janus said. “Which means it could be another fake one or whatever is causing it hasn’t started yet. If things start going wrong, but it still doesn’t show on our radar, it’s almost certainly a fake one, but some of the fake ones haven’t blocked our technology.”

“Here, I can check,” Pat said.

“Please don’t pull out an iPhone,” Janus begged.

Pat stuck out his tongue at him, and then smiled. He reached for the bracelet on his wrist and twisted it back and forth a few times before pressing his palms together. He glanced around them quickly to make sure no one around them was watching and then peeled apart his palms like he was miming reading a book.

“What the fuck is that, and how do I get one?” Remus asked immediately. It was innocuous, whatever it was. If someone from this time caught a glimpse of the display, they’d likely assume it was a trick of the light, but staring right at it, Janus could tell it was a map of the surrounding areas with a softly glowing blue light marking their current location. Janus could see no screen or origin of a hologram. It looked like the image was drawn onto the man’s palms, but as he watched, the image shifted to zoom out.

#study break stories #not writing

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arya-skywalker · 4 years

Text

Writing Masterpost

Note: this is very out of date. For my most recent fics please see my AO3 or #aryaskywalker writes tag on this blog. I will try to update this masterpost at some point.

Note 2: I will not longer be using taglists. Apologies to those who asked to added to a taglist for any of my fics

Oneshots

Are we both bad? — After the split, Janus comforts a young Remus. Canon-verse, mom-Deceit.

Father’s Day for the Fam-I-L-Y — Janus and Remus are invited to a Father’s Day cookout by Patton. Mostly canon-verse.

Home Sweet Home - PoF post episode fic. Remus and Virgil bond. Janus tells them what happened. Canon-verse.

Unnamed Prinxiety Oneshot - Virgil and Roman enjoy breakfast in bed after being rudely awoken.

Lost and Found - Janus constantly loses things. Logan has a solution. Canon-verse, platonic loceit.

Plant Killer - Patton gives Virgil plants to try to cheer him up. Unfortunately it takes a few tries to find one Virgil can keep alive. Moxiety (platonic or romantic).

Mult-chapter

Swan Lake AU

Based on various versions of Swan Lake. Roman is Odette, Janus is Rothbart, Virgil is Odile. Patton is the king. Remus is Roman’s brother and Patton’s son. Logan is the exhausted tutor trying to teach Remus how to act like a prince.

Part 1 - Eggshells

Mer AU

Janus, Remus, and Roman are mermen. Virgil, Patton, and Logan are human. Various shenanigans under the sea and on shore.

Part 1 - The Plan

Part 2 - The Kidnapping

Ella Enchanted AU

Virgil is cursed with the “gift” of obedience by his fairy godfather Remy. His step-brother Remus sometimes takes advantage of this. Patton is the household fairy who struggles with simple spells. Based on a mix between the Ella Enchanted book and movie, as well as Sanders Sides and some original twists.

Part 1 - Makeover

Part 2 - Like Father Like Son

Fossils and Aliens AU

Logan just wants to find and study fossils in peace. His friends Virgil and Remus tag along. One night they have unexpected visitors.

Part 1 - Something Old, Something New

College AU

Dee refuses to go by his given name for mysterious reasons. Typical college shenanigans and such.

Part 1 - What’s in a name?

Part 2 - Artistic Chaos

Part 3 - Behind the Mask

#my masterpost #important #aryaskywalker writes #sanders sides fanfic #update as needed

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shadowling-guistical · 4 years

Text

FIC MASTERPOST

Note: Fics posted so far that are linked to ao3 are posted in my main account. Future Sanders Sides work will be posted here.

My Art Masterpost (COMING SOON!)

Format: Title and Tumblr link//ao3 link//pairings//summary

The University Chronicles

ao3 link

Headcanon link

Pairing: Established married Logicality, Platonic Prinxiety, familial Analogical

A collection of oneshots, drabbles and everything in between exploring the lives of Professor Logan Hart, Mr Patton Hart, and Drs. Roman Prince and Virgil Sanders as friends (or maybe something more) and fellow faculty in the same university. Some told from their perspectives and some from others.

Alternatively, the Sanders Sides Academia AU nobody asked for.

---

Milestones

ao3 link for the extended version

Pairing: Platonic LAMP, familial Sleepxiety and Thvi

After deciding to take a gap year, Virgil Sanders expected to enter his freshman year of college feeling anxious and out of place. But not if his childhood friends; Patton Hart, Roman Prince and Logan Croft have anything to say about it.

For The Core of Us fanzine on Tumblr.

UPDATE: Read Miles To Go, the remix written by @sparrow-flies-south

---

Dearly (Nearly) Departed

Pairing: Past Remy/OC and Past Patton/OC. Platonic Anxceit, Familial Sleepxiety and future Familial Moceit

Fear (n.): 1. Defined as an unpleasant, often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger.

Virgil Sanders, aged nine, once read this entry in the library. His only response? A brief glance at the not-quite-human-anymore wailing near a bookshelf, (-peeling skin, spindly twitching claws, crawling across carpets-) and an attempt to cover the trembling of his fingers.

As the years pass by, the steady thrum of fear under his skin turn into a constant, albeit annoying, companion. Virgil only got better at hiding trembling fingers and pretending these spirits didn't exist. But after meeting Declan Janus and later, Patton Hart, Virgil would come to realize that maybe, just maybe, he needed to help the dead to help the living.

Or: Virgil inherits the ability to see the dead after the death of one of his fathers. A Mieruko-chan AU.

For the 2020 Ts BigBang

---

See This Ancient Riverbed

ao3 link

Pairings: Moceit

WARNINGS: Angst, Major character death

“One more time...I just need to do it over one… more time…Hold on everyone. I’ll get it right. I swear I'll get this right.”

They were a different type of friends, Patton knew that. Their time together never leads to everlasting happiness. But rather, to ruin, destruction and despair— to other people, to each other, and in some (many) instances, even the world.

But Patton, selfish as he is, wouldn’t stand to let everything fall into ruin without a fight. Not this time. And even if it takes tens, hundreds, or thousands of times, he’d do it over and over to give his friends the happy ending they deserved.

A Puella Magi Madoka Magica AU.

---

Old Traditions Bring New Friends

ao3 link

Pairings: Creativitwins, familial Analogical and future Intrulogical

Things are going good for Prince Remus of Himmelstadt. But as his twin would say, it could always be better. And nothing proved it more than when old traditions upheld by his father and their kingdom took a pleasant, surprising turn. The arrival of Princes Virgil and Logan from Fontaine brought something unexpected into his life. The ship from the Bastion of the North had, against all odds, brought him a friend.

For the TSS Fanworks Collective server Secret Santa

---

Part of the Job Description

ao3 link

Pairings: None.

“Um. Oh, is it...Is it really okay?” She asked, cautiously. She didn’t think her kinda nerdy science teacher would be the type to be mean or anything but still…

“Of course!” Mr. Sanders smiled, gathering the last of the materials on his desk, “It’s part of my job description as a teacher after all. To make sure every one of my students has what they need. And now that I know that you’re fasting, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. So you’re welcome to stay in my class for however long you want,”

It's Ramadhan, and Zahra found herself receiving support from the most unlikely source. Her sweet but kind of boring science teacher.

Remix of Fangirlwriting’s Career, part of their Creative Trade series

---.

A Failed Escape

Pairings: Anxceit

On an early December day, Janus made sure his husband wouldn’t escape his clutches.

For the TSS Fanworks Collective server March Ado About Nothing challenge.

---

Blinded

Pairings: Prinxiety

Against all odds,

Roman found himself falling for an impossible boy.

No, scratch that. Roman had fallen in love with a star, in every sense of the word.

For the TSS Fanworks Collective server March Ado About Nothing challenge.

---

Do You Think the Stars are Lonely Too

Pairings: Unrequited Thvi, background Thomceit.

WARNING: Angst and unrequited love.

Virgil does the most selfish thing he could think of. He told Thomas that he loved him.

---

You Should Go (Even If I can’t follow)

ao3 link

Pairings: Platonic Analogical.

Logan is about to do something that would be the biggest mistake of his life. Virgil intends to do something about it.

Or: One of the many times Virgil pushed his friends towards something greater.

Side story to You Hear What You Want (But You Never Wanted Me)

---

You Hear What You Want (But You Never Wanted Me)

ao3 link

Pairings: Thvi, unrequited prinxiety, unrequited anxceit, background Roceit

WARNING: Heavy angst, Injury, Major character death, and Unrequited love.

He remembered their eyes. Longing yet so full of doubt that felt so foreign in their expression. The emotion that had felt out of place. That felt so, so wrong. Especially in how it left Logan’s lips bitten raw in a way that made Virgil want to ball his hands into fists. How it had upturned Roman’s eyebrows in a way that made Virgil's heart queasy. How it left Janus’ jaw set hard, and Remus’ manic smile turned into a pensive frown that was so unnerving that Virgil wanted nothing more than to take them by the shoulders and shake some goddamn sense into them.

Because fuck it, doubt was the one thing they never should have had.

Perhaps that’s why Virgil, whose entire personality was the famous G-note personified, who was about as vibrant as a new moon meeting a monochrome rainbow, who had as much potential as a stationary ball, had settled to do the only thing he could. He’d push.

But perhaps it was best if he had realized something sooner.

(If you push too much, don't be surprised if there ends up being distance.)

Or: Underneath concrete and rubble, Virgil Picani-Sanders reflect on his life, his family, and his friends.

#sanders sides #ts sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #tsfics #TsAcademiaAU #fic masterpost #mine

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theeternalspace · 5 years

Text

See Me in a Crown 4/?

Buckle up folks! We’re back on this madness at long last! This chapter has been sitting done for a while, but real life got in the way several times. I am pleased to say we are here at last though!

it’s another dark one, back in the Imagination, and time to see what Virgil and Roman have been up to!

Previous || Next

Masterpost

Summary: Virgil must make a choice. Damned if he does.... and damned if he doesn’t.

Word Count: 7.7k

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders. Remy Sanders.

Pairings: Still platonic, still don’t know if its gonna be romantic, Prinxiety.

Trigger Warnings: Possession/Corrupted Side, Evil!Roman, blood, threats of death, implied death, not actual death. if I missed any, please, please let me know.

~~~

“Rise and shine darling!”

Roman’s voice echoed through the room - and through Virgil’s skull. It was as bright and as cheerful as ever. As though this was one of their sleepovers the four sides would sometimes do. Or some other, innocent normal activity and not a morning with Virgil a prisoner and recovering from a wound in his leg.

Virgil hadn’t been asleep. He wasn’t sure how long he had been awake for, lying on the bed and just trying to think. He wasn’t sure how long he had been here period. Time wasn’t real in the grand scheme of things, but it was even less of a constant within the Imagination itself. He could have been here a mere five minutes as far as the rest of the mind was concerned or he could have been here for days. It was all subject to Roman’s whims, to the level of control he was pressing down on it. If he was smart - and as much as Virgil felt sick to his stomach even thinking about it, he had to admit that the Intrusive Thought had shown some level of base cunning - then he would be speeding up time as much as possible.

Anything to make the world spin faster within its little globe, to make the sun rise and set. And to make Virgil suffer. The longer he was here, the harder it was to think of getting out. The fact that nobody had come to save him yet meant either the other him was doing a really good job.

Or worse, not enough time had passed for them to know he needed saving. Which meant he could endure what would feel like weeks and weeks of this hell in no time at all. It made Virgil want to cry from either rage or fear. Honestly, he wasn’t sure anymore which. It also made him want to get out of here, the need to try and break free a constant, near overwhelming feeling.

Thoughts of escape had been quickly dashed by the sensation of a heavy cuff and chain fastened around the ankle of his good leg. No amount of tugging at it manually or mentally could so much as make it wobble. Virgil tried to reach down inside of himself for that little bit of control he had over the Imagination, but no matter how hard he reached out, only empty space waited for him.

Somehow, Roman was blocking his connection. It left him adrift and more afraid than he was willing to admit. Virgil had become so used to that sensation of being part of Thomas and his thoughts that he had long ago started to take it for granted. So much so that it felt as though a part of him had been removed, as though he were missing a limb.

It was kind of surprising that he wasn’t missing a limb, considering his last memories before the pain. The arrow that had ripped through his flesh and then the added damage as Roman had twisted it spitefully. He didn’t know how long ago he had been injured. It couldn’t have been too long because the wound was still healing. It was an ugly mess of bandages and bruises on his leg, dark purple and green splodges peeking out from under the wrapping that had been placed around it. His jeans were completely ruined, most of one leg completely hacked off, as though Roman had attached it with gusto in order to deal with the wound.

After all of that, and the half remembered dreams that followed, Virgil had expected to wake up to more pain and torture. That seemed to be this twisted version of Roman’s stock in trade after all. Instead, he had found himself lying on a large and sinfully comfortable bed. If it wasn’t for the chain trapping him to it, he might had almost felt calm.

Part of him had been surprised, and then grateful, to wake up on a bed instead of crammed back into that tiny cage. Those feelings had quickly been followed by disgust, aimed at himself. How weak and pathetic was he, that after one night and one - admittedly serious - injury, he would be grateful that he wasn’t in the cage? That was probably what Roman had been counting on. Try and wear him down that way, have his own mind turn against him and do all the work for Roman.

And now, here he was. Ready to threaten him no doubt. Virgil had to remain strong, he couldn’t give in. Ideally, he wanted to get the cuff off so he could try and escape again and that meant playing along.

For now.

He just had to keep reminding himself that it was a trick on his part. That there was no shame in bowing to the pressure for the moment if it gave him an opening down the line. And that he wasn’t actually giving in. He wasn’t that weak and pathetic. Virgil repeated that pep talk over and over in his mind, reciting it almost like a poem, letting the words flow through his thoughts in order to give him the strength he needed to actually face Roman.

But just because he was going to let him think he was feeling the stress of recent events to the degree he would give up - for the moment - that didn’t mean he had to make it too easy for the beast.

Virgil opened his eyes to look at him, expression twisted into the most unimpressed scowl he could manage. He wasn’t about to feed to the thing’s ego by appearing cowed. Not to mention, there was always the worry that he might over do it. Sure, Patton said he could never overdo it, but Virgil knew that wasn’t really the case.

If he started acting too cowed and broken, then the Thought would suspect he was up to something. It was a fine line to walk, and Virgil wasn’t sure how to do it. All he knew was that he had to try.

“Hello beautiful, are you ready for work?” Roman asked, not in the least bit fazed by the look that was being sent his way. Well, at least he hadn’t immediately worked out that Virgil was faking it and decided to hurt him again. That was a positive. Not that Virgil was normally a very positive person but he needed to hold onto that right now. Thinking about Patton helped. It also made it worse, because asking himself ‘what would Patton say’ also made him imagine what it would be like if Patton was here.

And that was something Virgil would give anything to prevent. Not his Patton. Not any of his friends in fact. This was his mess, his screw up. He had failed Roman and he had to work out a way to fix it, without getting anyone else involved because if they got involved then they might get hurt. Virgil’s eyes narrowed in distrust, examining him carefully.

“Work?”

A trap, a trap, Virgil knew it had to be a trap and yet he found himself falling for it anyway. He was curious and now more than ever, he felt the truth of the old saying about curiosity killing the cat. It had already gotten him into so much trouble since this whole nightmare had started. But wasn’t it best to ask the questions? To learn as much as he could? Roman was going to do whatever he was going to do anyway. At least if Virgil knew what was coming, he could try and think of some way to handle it.

It hadn’t worked so well for him so far but sooner or later, he was bound to get lucky. As Logan would say, statistically, he had a better chance if he asked the questions. Some part of Virgil was still convinced that Logan was wrong when it came to him, that if he had a superpower it was to sabotage that statistic, so that he was always unlucky.

“I helped you when you were ill with your infection,” Roman explained, as though it was obvious. “I even asked you if you wanted my help. You had to know there would be a price attached and now it is time to repay that debt.”

Virgil had a vague memory of that moment. Of floating, suspended somewhere between pain and bliss. With a voice that he wanted to stop talking so that he could go back to relaxing, so he could escape the reality of his situation for a little while longer. Apparently, in that state, he had made a deal with the devil.

“And... what exactly do you expect me to do, to repay you?” Virgil asked. Yet more questions, yet more opportunities to see just how far his bad luck was going to take him.

“All you have to do is sit beside me as I make my judgements. I won’t even ask you to do anything. I just want you by my side.”

That sounded easy. A little... too easy and that couldn’t be all Roman wanted. No way was that all he wanted. There was going to be some sting in the tale, some trick that he wasn’t yet aware of. If nothing else, it would be full of petty mortifying moments.

Was he actually considering this?

Going along with what had to be a trap?

Then again, realistically, what choice did he have? Bitter experience had proven to him that Roman wouldn’t take a denial of his wishes very well. Sooner or later, he would be able to resist again. Sooner, he hoped, rather than later. The alternative would be more pain and he knew still ending up in the place that Roman wanted. There would be a time to fight later, when he wasn’t getting over an infected leg wound and he could move more freely.

A voice in the back of his head pointed out that this sounded an awfully lot like giving in and justifying himself in the process. A voice that Virgil needed to ignore as he started to get out of the bed. Even sitting upright felt like an embarrassing struggle, his limbs weak and trembling after his illness.

Carefully, Virgil stood. He took a shaky, uncertain step forward, feeling his leg buckle and give out under him. If it hadn’t been for Roman catching him, he would have fallen flat on his face. For a moment, Virgil couldn’t understand why he had caught him instead of letting him feel more pain. The confusion lasted right up until the other side opened his mouth.

“In my arms at last, little songbird,” Roman murmured, a wicked smirk on his face. It was obvious that he was enjoying this a little too much, that he was getting satisfaction from Virgil being unable to even walk properly.

With a soft, barely there snarl, Virgil pushed himself back upright. With the fury that was burning in his veins, he found he didn’t care about the pain that gave him. He didn’t care about the possible angry way in which the Intrusive Thought might react to Virgil attacking him. All he cared about was getting out of the embrace, no matter the consequences.

In a way, it was even worse when Roman threw back his head and gave a joyous laugh. Really, Virgil would have taken more pain that moment over the crushing reality that Roman didn’t even see him as a threat. To make matters even worse, the regal looking side then turned, showing his back without a trace of fear and left, assuming - rightly - that Virgil would have no other option but to trail after him.

Limping slowly, Virgil followed him out of the room.

Any ideas he might have entertained about trying to escape while Roman had his back to him were dashed by the sight of Terrance waiting for them both, the figment silently slipping in behind them. No doubt keeping a close eye on Virgil and why did he have to keep the ones that looked like Thomas’ friends around? There were so many faces he could use, so many people Thomas knew more casually or had passed in the street. But no, he had to pick the ones that would hurt the most. This Thought seemed unable to let the simplest thing go by without seeing it as an opportunity to twist the knife even further.

Virgil refused to voice any of those thoughts out loud though. He wasn’t going to let Roman know that the presence of a fake friend was getting to him.

Instead, he focused on keeping a steady pace, on moving as easily as he could when his leg hurt as it did. Realistically, Virgil knew he wouldn’t have been able to try and make a break for it even without Terrance’s presence, not when his leg was like this. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse, to have two reasons why he was going along with Roman’s wishes like a good little pet. Like the songbird Roman insisted on calling him.

With each passing moment, it felt more and more as though he was just giving in and accepting the reasons his head was conjuring up as excuses when really he was just weak. Weak and pathetic. What good was he when he couldn’t even handle one imaginary wound? When he had such a need for being the center of attention and pity, that he had managed to get not only injured but then have the wound infected for good measure? Why was he even fighting any of this? Surely it would just be better to give in? He was a coward, he didn’t like pain and if he just kept on doing what Roman wanted then it would be better for everyone.

They paused in front of the large doors which lead into the throne room. As they stood there, Roman visibly stood up taller, his whole posture shifting into that of a stern but gracious king. The role he was born to play. In that outfit and with that Thought in charge, it made a mockery of everything his Roman had stood for.

Virgil took this opportunity to close his eyes for a moment, breathing through his nose and trying to will those thoughts away. That wasn’t him. He was not his worst thoughts and he wasn’t going to give in to the fear and worry and well - anxiety - that was currently assaulting him. He was more than just his title, his role. Roman was counting on him and Virgil was not going to let him down.

With those thoughts firmly in mind, Virgil opened his eyes once more. Instantly there was the gleam of gold, light catching off the doors as they moved with an overly dramatic creak. The faintest wisps of red smoke drifted past his vision as he blinked a couple of times to try and clear his gaze and focus once more. Those doors were fully open now, Roman vanishing inside, still walking with his head held high. As though he had any right to anything in this realm.

A hand on the small of his back reminded him ever so gently, that Virgil couldn’t just stand here as he pleased.

Biting down the noise of pain that wanted to escape at the renewed pressure upon his leg, he started to limp forward once more. Each step was more and more painful. A fire that was burning through his veins and leaving him shaking and utterly spent. Virgil was so focused on not crying out or simply dropping to the ground and lying there unable to move, that he didn’t notice the changes to the throne room until he was a good way inside.

It was a lot longer for one. At first, Virgil had just thought that was his leg playing tricks on him. That because everything hurt so much, it felt like an eternity. But no, the room really had stretched out, the pillars lining the way were now almost twice as many as before. The colours had changed as well, shifting into muter, darker shades. The painfully ironic thing - everything was pain right now - was that Virgil almost preferred this new look. It was much more his style.

But it wasn’t Roman’s style and this was more than just his castle, the throne room was the beating heart of his world. If any place in it needed to be Roman, it had to be this room. For the Intrusive Thought to have twisted even this place... it made his heart sink even lower and raised new doubts about if Virgil could even sa- no. He wasn’t thinking that.

One step in front of another. One more. And then another. And another. Each step dragging him slowly but surely towards the dais which was waiting at the other end of the room. There was another difference here Virgil belatedly noticed as he dragged his aching body up the few steps which elevated this area above the rest of the room.

There were two thrones where once there had only been one. Admittedly, one was smaller than the other, set lower so that the person on it would always remain aware of their reduced position. It had a chain attached to the front right leg, a heavy cuff on the other end. The was obviously for him. Some part of Virgil was amazed that he was actually going to be allowed his own chair. A throne no less. He had expected something along the lines of the chain to keep him in place, but he had thought that Roman would have used it to further embarrass and shame him. Perhaps by making him sit at his feet.

Whatever the reason for his apparent mercy, Virgil wasn’t going to question him about it. Not out loud at least. It was added to the list of questions that were growing ever stronger in his mind, pushing at his thoughts and confusing him further. Every time he thought he got a grasp on this Thought, it shifted. If all it wanted was to hurt and humiliate him, why allow him so much as a throne?

Roman stood in front of them and gave a mocking bow, lips twisting into a triumphant smirk. And why shouldn’t he be pleased with himself? He had managed to get Virgil in here, he was winning today - he had won every day so far, but his victories had never been complete. It wouldn’t be complete here. Virgil still didn’t know exactly what Roman really wanted from him, but whatever it was, he wasn’t going to get it. With another little wave of his hand, he gestured towards the smaller of the thrones. So he wanted Virgil to sit down?

Okay. He could have that. But only because Virgil wanted to sit down too and take the weight off his aching leg.

The hand that was still in the small of his back gave him another little nudge, sending him stumbling forward. He caught the edge of the lower throne before he could actually fall, letting it steady him and no matter how badly Virgil really wanted to sit down, he couldn’t rush this. He couldn’t let them know how badly the walk had hurt him.

Somehow, he managed not to slump into the throne, sitting on it and waiting. As he expected, Terrance immediately bend down, hands reaching for the heavy looking chain.

Virgil refused to let so much as a flicker of emotion cross his face as the cuff was attached around his ankle, tying him to the throne like a leash. It could have been worse of course - if it had been an actual leash it would have been around his throat and he really didn’t think he could handle that. Not now and not ever. He felt uncomfortable enough at knowing he really was trapped. That it wasn’t even his own weakness that was stopping him from moving now, but that he was locked in, chained down.

A wild Anxiety, chained and contained at last.

To his muted surprise, Roman barely looked at him after that. He sat on his own, higher throne, head still held as high as before. With an impetuous wave of his hand, he beckoned the first claimant forward and got to work with the business for the day.

If any of the figments filing through the throne room wondered why Virgil was sitting there in chains - or indeed, why he was there at all - none of them mentioned it. He had never really understood the details of Roman’s worlds. He didn’t know how much power and freedom the people within it actually had. Were they all following programmed orders? Or was this just at a level that Roman didn’t have much of a hand in? Just automatically generated things beyond his notice.

But if Roman had planned all this, surely he would have chosen more interesting cases than neighbours squabbling over whose responsibility a fence that needed mending was or if they had been allowed to pick fruit from certain areas. In fact, none of the so called cases seemed particularly taxing. Most involved the same few petty little squabbles over and over again. There was the slightest variation in some of them. A different sort of food, eggs instead of fruit. A dam that needed fixing instead of a fence but it all boiled down to the same few things. All very mundane and normal.

So how come Virgil couldn’t help but feel as if something bad was coming?

It was ridiculous. Roman still wasn’t looking at him. He seemed fully absorbed in his role as the Prince, the font of all knowledge and justice. If it wasn’t for the outfit change and the fact he had chained Virgil to the throne, he could have convinced himself that it was still his friend. The Roman that had cared for the well being of his people, who would patiently sit for hour upon hour if that was what they needed.

How he could stand it, Virgil didn’t know. He was growing restless as it was, a prickling tingle of energy sweeping over him as he tried not to fidget. How many more of these people could there be? How many more times was he going to have to see some people shuffle through the doors and creep forward in line. When they finally reached the front they would grovel in front of Roman and wait for him to decide their petty fates?

The uneasy feeling wouldn’t go away.

Virgil’s gaze flickered around the room as though he could somehow pinpoint whatever it was that was making him feel like that. There had to be something, something he might not have realised that he saw but had buried its way into his subconscious like a tic. He could brush and pick at the spot all he liked but the teeth had burrowed their way deep and there was no way to get them out. Not until he could understand what it was that he had seen.

Was it one of the guards? There had been a slight stiffening to the ones standing by the doors leading in and out. A somewhat sharper snap to attention as though aware of eyes on them. But surely that, on its own, couldn’t explain that feeling of dread.

“I sentence you both to death...”

Roman’s voice, calm, collected, cut into his thoughts. Only then, did Virgil realise how far away his mind had taken him. He hadn’t even noticed the passage of the last few cases. Or how there were now two cowering women in front of Roman. The darkly clad regal side was staring down at them, his face expressionless.

To Virgil, that scared him almost more than the anger or the mocking had. Roman’s face was no built to be devoid of feelings. He always carried a little of himself in his look. Be he happy, sad, thoughtful, excited, or whatever. It was always on his face and Virgil could always read it. Yet there was nothing in this look. Not a hint of mercy or pity. It was as if all the lights were on but nobody was actually home.

Virgil missed his friend. But here, more than ever, he found himself mourning the absence of Roman. He would never have looked like that or said such things. He would never lift a perfectly manicured hand, fingers twisted into a thumbs down like some Roman Emperor of old.

“You stole from the King’s forest. You know the laws, nobody may enter without my express permission. This is not the first time it has happened recently either. I have no choice but to make an example of the two of you in the hope that you may prove a beneficial example to the rest. You will be taken from this place and burnt in the castle grounds before the day is done.”

They weren’t real. They weren’t real.

That didn’t make their cries of terror and pleas for mercy any easier to hear. Virgil could imagine their deaths. He could picture the way they would twist and scream in the flames, the stench that would drift around the castle. The way the ash would get caught up in the wind and mingle with everything else. He could imagine their pain - did the figments feel pain? They certainly felt fear and it was making Virgil feel scared in turn.

Not to mention, how would Roman feel about this? Virgil still held onto hope that he would find a way to break through to his friend and he was going to be upset about everything that had happened as it was. Sentencing people to death, the same people he had sworn in his coronation oath to project might be a step too far for him to handle.

“Roman, wait,” Virgil muttered. The dread was still pulsing in his stomach like some living, breathing thing. A beast made out of sickness and anxiety, bad thoughts made real. This was going to make things worse. This was a mistake.

But doing nothing was a mistake too. Roman tilted his head slightly towards Virgil, his eyes still firmly fixed on the crying women. He didn’t say a word, but he neither had he ordered his guards to take the women away.

“Don’t kill them... you... if you kill them, the people will fear you. Resent you. If you show mercy, they will love you. I’m sure... I’m sure they will obey you after this if you make it clear next time you will not be so forgiving?”

Virgil pitched his voice as low as he could as he spoke. Something inside him told him that Roman would not appreciate him speaking any louder. Perhaps it was the silence from Roman. Or the way he had bend his head towards Virgil to allow them to whisper. Maybe it was every period or fantasy drama he had seen which included this kind of scene. They always whispered in those cases.

Advisers to the king. Was that what he had become? Was he steeped in evil because of it?

“Very well...” Roman said slowly. His gaze had never once left the two women. “My consort has begged for mercy and I am inclined to grant it. Whipping and public penance. Begone before I change my mind.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Consort?! Where had that come from? What the hell was the Thought playing at now? The two women didn’t need to be told twice, each giving him a series of frantic little bows as they almost fell over themselves in their haste to get out of the room, the guards following close behind. Virgil paid them no heed. His mind was still stuck on that one word, turning it over and over in his mind like a pebble, worn smooth by the countless, crashing waves.

“Did you like that title?” Roman purred, finally looking in his direction. His eyes were gleaming with none too subtle malice, clearly enjoying himself. “I couldn’t help myself, not with the throne you were sat upon. It is technically a seat for a Queen after all.”

Virgil felt his fingers curl into fists, nails digging into the soft smooth skin of the palms of his hands, pressing so tight that he was sure there would be moons scattered across his skin for all to see. Countless little half moons, red and pulsing. Ugly, hot little reminders of how easily Roman could bring everything crashing down.

One little word and he was able to slip through Virgil’s defences, to find the weak spot and press hard. That was all it took when you were a master of the craft as Intrusive Thoughts clearly was. He had no idea what he meant by that term, if it was just to tease or if there was some other, deeper, darker meaning at play. It didn’t even matter in the long run what the Thought had actually meant by it.

His intent paled in comparison to Virgil’s reaction. Roman knew him, which meant that the Intrusive Thought knew him. He would know exactly how badly Virgil would take any sudden shift, any great change. To be forever moving, shifting, going from one phase to another might be how people lived. How even they all lived. And on the whole, he could stand up tall and proud when he thought of his past phases... but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the transition between the two.

The idea that such a term could be thrown out so casually, as though it didn’t change anything when it did everything was almost physically painful to him. The fact that he almost certainly meant nothing by it only hurt Virgil further because that brought with it the fear that he would use other terms again just for the fun of it.

The Thought didn’t need to do anything further. Virgil would do all the work for him, would torture himself with that word. Virgil hated that. He despised even more the simple fact that knowing about the trap his own mind would create for him didn’t help him work out how to avoid it. He could see the pit of spikes in the road up ahead and yet his pace didn’t slow or alter.

Nothing to do but go to his doom.

“I listened to you, little bird,” Roman cooed. He reached out, hand cupping Virgil’s cheek before sliding lower to grip lightly at his chin. Virgil had been so caught up in his own thoughts, the worries twisting and turning on themselves like angry snapping Cerberus heads, that he could do nothing but let him.

“You did,” Virgil agreed hoarsely. His palms were stinging now, little spots of sensation that created their own constellations against the sky of his skin. This was all too much. Too much thought and feeling. Too much worry and sensation. He needed to get out of here, he needed to go. For the first time Virgil actually felt like the animal that Roman seemed to be trying to make him. The panic that rose in him was bestial, instinctive and devoid of any finer common sense. It was ruled by the desire to get out of this situation and nothing else.

He turned away - or at least, he tried to.

In an instant, the fingers had tightened around him, digging in deep. Sharp and cruel, pinning him in place. It was so much worse than the marks he was leaving on his own skin because it spoke to his lack of control. It was yet another reminder - as though he needed another - that he had no agency of his own right now. The Thought could do whatever he wanted to Virgil’s body. He had proved that time and time again from the cage to the hunt to this moment. He could do whatever he wanted to his mind too and Virgil wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fight this.

“Since you think you’re so good at making judgements, you can make the next one,” Roman told him, carrying on the conversation as though he wasn’t gripping Virgil hard enough to leave marks. He twisted his hand, forcing Virgil’s head to turn and look towards the main entrance.

Virgil’s heart didn’t sink so much as plummet.

Because there, being dragged through the two grand doors were October and Sleep, affectionately known as Toby and Remy respectively. Toby had a cut over his left eye, his hair dishevelled. Remy was in almost a worse state because he had lost his sunglasses. He looked so... vulnerable without his glasses and Virgil felt bile rise in his throat. It stung and burned as it went, leaving an acidic aftertaste in his mouth. The two lesser elements of Thomas were forced down to their knees in front of them.

Their hands were bound behind their backs, guards on either side but it didn’t stop either of them attempting to struggle and fight their way free. Remy tried to meet his gaze but Virgil couldn’t hold it, his eyes dropping down to stare at the floor. They were stinging as hard as his throat now, tears burning at the corners.

This was wrong and this had been a trap. He just never would have suspected... this. Whatever this was actually turning out to be and he felt very slow, very stupid. There was a malicious cunning at work here, some level of cruelty that not even Virgil could predict.

Sharp nails dropped away from his chin, Virgil shrinking back into the throne as they did. His hands relaxed as well, no doubt leaving the little moon marks as he had already suspected. It wouldn’t take long for those to fade though, there was no permanence to them, no lasting harm. Not like the damage this threatened to cause. He could barely breathe, staring down at the knees of Remy and Toby. Why were they here? What terrible thing was going to happen now?

“Someone came snooping,” Roman explained, voice light and dreamy. He sounded as though he was talking about a dream he wanted to share or something cute he had seen that day, not the two prisoners he had captured.

What if what he had been doing to Virgil was just a warm up for these two? What if he was going to hurt them? Virgil had started this whole nightmare dragged in front of Roman - how long ago that seemed now. It felt almost like a whole different lifetime, sitting and chatting with everyone, helping Thomas with his latest drama.

Was he ever going to be able to help Thomas with some of his worries ever again?

“They found out more than they were supposed to. I can’t leave any witnesses lying around. But I’m a generous man. They both represent smaller fragments of Thomas. He can survive with one of them temporarily suppressed.”

“What... what do you mean?” Virgil asked, stumbling a little over the words. Roman couldn’t mean... surely, he couldn’t mean what he thought he meant? Not even the worst Intrusive Thought could go as far as to kill one of them. They wouldn’t stay dead of course - death could only come to a side if they chose to remove themselves. Even then, the trait itself would remain, would recreate itself with no memories of the previous version.

The only other way they could die would be if Thomas died and Virgil had no intention of letting that happen any time soon. Or, if he and Logan had their way, ever. Logan had a lot of interesting talk about extending life spans. Freezing people. That sort of stuff.

It made Virgil want to giggle a little, something high pitched and desperate. Here he was, thinking about how they could be cryogenically frozen in order to live forever and Roman was still talking about murdering one of their friends. It didn’t matter if it wouldn’t be permanent. There wouldn’t be a physical mark but this would leave a scar and he couldn’t even start to imagine how any of them could recover from that.

“I mean I’m going to make one of them fade. By the time they reform and eventually recover their memories to know what happened to them, it will be too late for them to get in my way. Am I not merciful?”

Virgil didn’t answer. He couldn’t, his whole body and mind felt frozen, locked into place as the meaning of those words echoed around a suddenly silent room. Roman actually... he was actually going to do that? He really was going to... Virgil wanted to scream, to cry. He wanted to jump out of the throne, chain and wounds be damned. To go for the throat of this monster which mocked him while wearing a friend’s face and plotting the destruction of other friends.

His body refused to respond to those desires, to the heat that lapped against the icy shore of his will. How could he do anything when Roman had already showed how easily he could capture and hurt others? There was Remy and Toby to think of, still restrained with the sword of judgement hanging over them.

Roman stood, movements slow and deliberate. Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil could see the dark trouser legs as he moved closer. For the first time, Virgil felt a pang of fear at the thought of Roman close by. This was so much worse than the hunt, or when he had laid at his feet in agony, an arrow in his leg.

Even then, Virgil had been able to summon up some sort of defiance. He didn’t know how to do that now, he couldn’t find it in him to be brave as Roman’s hand settled on his shoulder, fingers squeezing. Not hard enough yet to cause any actual pain but the threat was there, as clear as if he had actually said the words.

“I said,” Roman repeated, voice sparkling with not so subtle dangers. “Am I not merciful my little bird?”

Virgil thought of Remy and Toby, watching this whole scene from their knees. He thought of his own pain, the hunt and how unimportant that was compared to everything else. He thought of the friends that were still safe outside this nightmare, who were blissfully oblivious to the horrors being waged here. Virgil would do anything to protect them, to try and save Remy and Toby now. What was his own pride compared to that?

“Very... merciful,” he forced out at last, fingernails slotting back into the impression left from only a few minutes previously. Had it really only been a minute or two since he had last sat with his fingers curled into tight, biting little fists? So much seemed to have happened since then, and yet in reality, it had been such a short span of time.

“Good pet,” Roman replied, hand now petting at his hair as if he was nothing more than that name. The bile rose in his throat again, more acidic than before, threatening to scorch his throat and leave him decaying. The regal side shifted a little, one hand waving towards the two below them.

“Choose,” he announced grandly. “Who should I spare?”

The world seemed to tilt on those words, everything shifting and becoming alarmingly grey around the edges. Choose? He was supposed to choose? How could be possibly do that? How dare the Thought inside of Roman try and put this on his shoulders.

It was a gross perversion of everything Virgil stood for. Which, he was painfully aware, was undoubtedly the reason why he had decided to do it. What better way to hurt Virgil than through those he loved. What better way to hurt those he loved than to try and make Virgil be the one to wield the sword. He wouldn’t do it. He wasn’t going to play these games any longer. He wasn’t going to sit here and meekly play at being Roman’s trophy, his consort, his bird or whatever demented title he came up with next.

“I can’t. I won’t,” Virgil spat out, the intensity of those words surprising even him. All the fire he had tried to suppress was bursting free once more, a raging roaring flame that refused to bow down to something as undeniably wrong as the Thought.

“You won’t?” The question was spoken mildly enough, but in the same dangerous tone as before. That time Virgil had crumpled under the pressure, had told himself that he had to agree for the sake of the others. This time, he knew he had to disagree for exactly the same reason.

“No,” Virgil replied and it didn’t matter what Roman did to him. He could stab him in the leg again and twist it for all it was worth, but he wasn’t going to sentence either of them to death. He wasn’t going to hurt his friends, he would gladly take all the pain on himself.

Almost unconsciously, Virgil felt himself brace for a blow that didn’t come. Roman considered his words thoughtfully for a few moments and then shrugged his shoulders in apparent defeat. The gesture only made him that much more nervous because he had never given in before.

“Very well. Both of them then. They will both die.”

“No!” Virgil cried, his heart leaping to his throat and who knew what would happen to Thomas if he lose them both.

Losing Sleep would... be terrible. Perhaps not too noticeable at first considered how little sleep he got anyway, but give it long enough and he would start to really suffer. Thomas would hurt without Remy there. Losing October would be a problem for the videos but he was so much more than just a month. He represented all the joy Thomas had within that month. Virgil felt closer to October than any other monthly function. Toby was so much cooler than him of course, but they both loved Halloween.

Thomas needed them both and Virgil had to do something. Of course, if he did nothing, if they both died - were suppressed - then surely someone would notice? Patton or Logan or even Thomas? With both of them out of the way, Thomas’ behaviour would change. They would start to question, might follow the trail all the way back to this castle. They might be able to stop Roman, save them both and then -

It was a pleasant dream. A hope of a much better future, one that didn’t involve bars and blood. Virgil couldn’t do that however. As much as he wanted to get out of this hellish landscape, he couldn’t condemn them both to death. He couldn’t run the risk of Thomas being seriously - and who knew, perhaps even permanently - damaged by such a loss.

Roman arched a brow, his expression condescending.

“No? I gave you a simple choice my pet. I offered you the chance to spare one of them. One will die and one will live. Or both will die. If you refuse to pick, then I will. Shall we watch the double execution from our thrones? I could have them killed right here and now.”

“No!” Virgil repeated again. He gasped for breath, feeling himself teeter on the edge of a cliff unlike any he had ever known before. The rocks which were spread out below him were far more treacherous and deadly than anything else. This was a wound he was cutting into his own flesh. Plucking out his heart and shredding it between his own fingers.

Mouth opened and closed a few times, Virgil struggling for breath, for words. Eventually thought, he was able to force some out.

“I... I’ll pick.”

“Good boy. Very well. Who gets to survive for another day?” Roman leaned forward a little, an intent, excited look in his eyes as he waited for the answer. Although Virgil was deliberately not looking at them, he was sure the two on their knees were leaning forward a little too, both helpless and waiting to see where the blow would fall.

“Sleep,” Virgil whispered, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t give into temptation and look towards them both. Some small, dark part of himself wanted to, wanted to hurt himself by seeing the reaction, to let Toby glare. He wanted one of them to hurt him because then it might be easier to bear this hurt in turn.

Virgil was a coward though. The larger part of him couldn’t bare see the betrayal in Toby’s eyes. He felt physically sick at the words he had uttered but what else could he do? Sleep was a physical representation of a much needed bodily function. Thomas needed to sleep and while he could survive without it for a day or so, it couldn’t be much longer than that. Virgil couldn’t risk Thomas like that. He couldn’t take away sleep.

“As you wish. Take October outside. Do it in the Courtyard” Roman murmured, voice low and almost comforting. In the otherwise dead silence of the throne room it felt deafening, as though he was screaming the orders so that everyone would know what Virgil had done. How he had, to all intents and purposes, killed a friend.

There was the sound of guards moving around, the struggle of a body being dragged away and still Virgil couldn’t bring himself to look up. It was taking everything he was not to cry out in rage and guilt, to not make it worse.

“Take Sleep to the dungeon,” Roman ordered. Virgil’s head snapped up at that, eyes widening in horror. He had sacrificed Toby for Remy, had given up his own soul to protect him and now Roman was going back on his word? He had never made Roman promise and why hadn’t he gotten some oath out of him before galloping ahead with his choice? It was no excuse to allow himself to be so driven by fear and not rational thought. Logan would have been so disappointed in him. Then again, it wouldn’t have been as painful as the self hatred that was flowing through him now.

“You said you would let him go!”

“I said no such thing my little songbird,” Roman retorted, one hand lifting to rest lightly against his heart, as though wounded by the tone of voice Virgil was using. “I said I would make one of them fade. Nothing about what I would do to the other.”

tag list;

@stanley-jigsaw @applecannibal @cookiethedevil @i-will-physically-fight-you @jemthebookworm @4amanxiety @plaid-purple-patches @hikarisakurariver

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remy sanders #angst #wip #dark #angst with happy ending one day #please be aware of warnings #see me in a crown #long post #aca writes

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skyfallscotland · 5 months

Text

Hi! I'm Amy (She/Her)

I write fanfic, which you probably already know if you came here from my AO3 page (where I go by hurricane).

Currently I'm writing for Fourth Wing.

My favourite colour is green, I love Taylor Swift and Fall Out Boy, and I hate spicy food (but love spicy books).

Below you'll find links to my work/fandom masterposts & some FAQ

✧ Fandoms/Works

Fourth Wing

ACOTAR

✧ FAQ

Do you have an update schedule?

Not really. Sometimes it's once a week, sometimes twice, sometimes not for weeks (though I try to only do that in between projects), it really depends on the hyperfixation.

How do you write so much?

I get super anxious about starting things and not finishing them (and then having people asking me about them) so I try to write ahead before posting, so it isn't always in real time. I do however write on average (based on year to date) 2.5k words a day, which I guess is a lot for most people? The simple answer is I don't work full time and I try to write everyday.

What's your writing process?

I prefer writing either in the morning or later at night. I always write in bed, propped up against the headboard. Sometimes if I'm home alone I'll venture out to the kitchen and feel supremely uncomfortable for no reason, so I quickly return to my low-lit cave.

I just write what I'm inspired to write when I'm inspired to write it. I've learned not to force it, that just makes writer's block worse!

Do you have any writing advice?

I do! I get asked this a lot, so I wrote a masterpost: Part One—the advice & Part Two—the resources

Can I bind your fic?

At the moment my stance on fic binding is that it’s fine if it’s only for personal use and not for sale, profit, distribution or commission. Please don’t use commercial companies like print houses (due to legal issues). I feel very strongly about fanworks being and remaining free, and the way fic-binding has been commodified recently worries me 💖

Do you allow translations of your work?

You’re bilingual, that’s so cool! I appreciate you asking 💗 I believe in fanfiction being accessible to everyone. I would request however at this time that any translations of my work be kept on AO3—there’s a checkbox you can tick to link it as a translation.

Can I use a scenario in your fic for my own or write something inspired by your fic?

Mostly, yeah. See my in-depth answer/thoughts on this here.

Can I use your characters for a fic of my own?

I respectfully ask you not to at this time. All my original characters from my series' are very close to my heart, especially Remi (the one people ask about the most) and their stories are not yet finished! So there's more you guys don't know about them. At the moment, I'm a bit sensitive about it and I'd like to keep them close. If you do still write something inspired by them, it's also highly likely I won't read it, at least until I'm finished the series. Thanks for understanding.

What else are you working on?

I have a dozen fic ideas for Fourth Wing, at least four of which I've already written bits and pieces of while working on Basgiath (Remi's Version). I don't run on any kind of schedule though, they'll see the light of day when they do and if they don't, then they won't!

I also have two original novels I'm writing, one of which I hope to finish in the next couple of months (it's in the plotting stage!) 🥰

Will you ever come back to ACOTAR?

I plan to at some point, hopefully this year! I just want to get through some of these Fourth Wing ideas while I'm still inspired and eventually I'll come back to write Callie's story and maybe some Feysand, or an Eris fic. It's tough because I've been writing that series in third and my FW works have me in first person mode. I find it very hard to switch between them.

Do you have any fic recs?

I do! Only for Fourth Wing at the moment, you can see them all here. I'm slowly adding to the list/collection 🌟

#about me

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nb-octopus-writes · 5 years

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unposted WIPs

Here is a non-exhaustive list of the stories I’m working on and haven’t started posting yet! I’ve sorted them by fandom, but beyond that, they’re in no particular order.

[masterpost of posted/posting stories]

Sanders Sides

Dragonnapped

(Set in the medieval fantasy period of Faedell)

The capture of Prince Logan was a joint effort between pygmy dragons Virgil and Patton, so they share custody of him.

Roman doesn't understand why Logan doesn't want to be rescued.

~~~

Fairy Prince Roman

Art tag: #fpr art [Chrono Link]

Inspired by a prompt from @hiddendreamer67, and set in the modern version of Faedell.

Logan and Patton did not intend to trespass on pixie territory, nor to kidnap the crown prince, but somehow it happened anyway, and now they're in trouble.

~~~

Sanders Sides Soulmates

Inspired by this post by @fanartfunart

In a world where soulmarks are many and varied, five young men seek to find their matches.

Okay, that's a lie; they're not all looking very hard. But they do all find each other and it's a big happy cute polycule.

ships: assorted other ships building up to DLAMP in the end

~~~

Abused Pet AU (still needs proper titles for the two stories in the AU)

Virgil, a mini, has lived all his life with an abusive owner. When he's finally rescued and placed in a loving home with Patton and his mini, Roman, Virgil doesn't know what to do or how to behave. It takes a long time, and therapy, for Patton and Roman to show Virgil that he really is safe, and that he won't be punished for being an individual with his own wants and desires.

Logan wants to be a psychiatrist. Unfortunately for him, he's a mini, and therefore, legally not a person. He can't get a high school degree, let alone graduate from college or become certified in psychology.

Luckily for Logan, his owner and best friend, Emile, supports him in this endeavor. Emile trains to be a psychiatrist specifically so that Logan can attend all his classes with him, and the two go on to become a great psychiatric team — even if Emile primarily talks in cartoon references.

~~~

Itsy Bitsy Spider Sides

It was a dream.

Virgil and Patton are spider-borrowers, who belong to Dee. Roman is a regular borrower, who belongs to Logan. Through some means or another, Virgil and Patton end up in Logan’s house instead of Dee’s, and they promptly adopt Roman because he has zero borrower skills and cannot climb things. Logan manages to negotiate that they can live in his house, eat his food, and adopt his Roman if he can study their spider abilities.

~~~

Switching Heights

Roman captured a borrower, and his behavior left something to be desired. So, his fairy godmother decided to teach him a lesson.

also it’s logince.

~~~

Sides in the Real World

Everything is going as normal… until it’s not.

Logan pops up to comment like he normally does, except this time, Thomas freaks out. When Logan summons Virgil to explain Thomas’ panic, Virgil also freaks out, because this is the real world and they’re not supposed to be there.

Now the Sides have to pretend to be normal human beings, instead of metaphysical representations of various aspects of one man’s personality.

~~~

Unnamed Logicality Fic (inside the CCAU)

The story of Logan and Patton's relationship, spanning from the third grade to a few years after they graduate college.

~~~

Dinner Guests (proper title still pending)

Emile Picani is best friends with Dee and Remus's son, Remy. So it's only reasonable that they invite Emile and his parents over for dinner one weekend so they can all get to know each other better. Only, they didn't think to ask… how many parents does Emile have? (Four. The answer is four.)

ships: LAMP, remceit

~~~

Unnamed Fic

(Set in Faedell, medieval fantasy time period)

Remy is the most magically powerful human to exist in the last century, and no-one, not even him, is fully aware of all he is capable of. He certainly didn’t expect to be able to cast a fairy spell, especially unintentionally!

~~~

Sanders Sides Crossover Story

Literally all of the Sanders Sides fics smashed together. We’re currently blaming SitRW Roman.

~~~~~~~

Brothers Apart Multiverse (Supernatural/Bowman of Wellwood)

A Lich in Faedell

What would happen if A Lich of Sense or Bothering Bowman took place in Faedell instead of Wellwood?

Well, for one thing, grabby human intruders will get slapped with a defensive curse rather than bitten.

~~~

John in Brothers Adopted

Jonathan Anthony Frederickson has been popping in and out of other dimensions long enough that he’s gotten fairly used to it. However, he’s never shown up in a world where he was less than four inches tall before. Nor can he recommend sleeping through a portal’s appearance — he’d really rather have his glasses and some regular clothes.

Giant pizza for breakfast is nice, though.

~~~~~~~

Good Omens

Baby Snakes

Crowley tries to play a prank on his angel. It backfires.

~~~~~~~

Not Fanfic

Tom and Reggie

Spaghetti Ropes 👅

This time, the Game is Reggie's idea. You can probably guess from the title what happens.

~~~~~

Humans and Aliens

Possessive

In English, the word "my" is used both possessively and relationally. In other languages, there is a separate word for each meaning. Misunderstandings arise.

~~~

Adrenaline

In many parts of the galaxy, "Dren" is an illegal combat drug. Humans produce it naturally.

~~~

Tetris

There has been a major misunderstanding about humans, video games, and the precise meaning of the linked phrases “game over” and “you die.” Now an unfortunate alien has been issued a challenge which cannot be won, only prolonged, and it’s only a matter of time before the inevitable end.

~~~

Edible

It really is better not to ask the humans questions you’d rather not hear answered. This includes “How far does your omnivorism extend?”

~~~~~

Other

Seeing Double

(no names for the characters yet…)

Metamours who're identical twins

P met twins T1 and T2 separately, and mistook them for the same person. Which makes things complicated when the friendship turns romantic…

(This is NOT a love triangle; it ends with a polycule.)

~~~

Injustice (working title)

‘Borrowers as pets’ theme

Rich kid + borrower pet. The kid is trying to challenge his privilege and become a better person than his parents are raising him to be.

outline-ish thing

~~~

Paige Penn

Paige Penn, age 15, likes to write. Her two favorite characters are Justin and Nick, a pair of secret agents. One day, she finds herself transported into another world, where she is surprised to actually meet the duo. They, in turn, are just as surprised to meet their creator, and more than a little intimidated to discover that this teenager is capable of making things happen just by writing the events in a little notebook.

~~~

The Big Mermaid

A retelling of The Little Mermaid except it’s GT and also gay.

Ariel’s father absolutely loathes the humans, and has forbidden his daughter from going anywhere near them. But Ariel likes watching their ships, and she often sneaks out to do just that. One stormy night, a human is washed overboard, and Ariel rescues the poor, tiny, gilless creature, setting them safely on a cliff. When princex Erica regains consciousness, they will only vaguely remember a kind face and red hair.

Ariel, meanwhile, returns home with confusing feelings. She had long enjoyed watching the ships, but now, somehow, she finds herself drawn toward one human in particular. Ariel goes to her close friend and confidant, Ursula the octo-mer witch, who helps her with a plan to meet the human again and explore what exactly these feelings are.

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davidthetraveler · 5 years

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David’s Fic-Rec Friday: 2020/01/24

Hey guys. Sorry about being gone for so long. Things have been... a little complicated lately. But I’m getting back into the swing of things, and as part of that we are starting this back up again. So then, let’s get going.

Winter Sides by IdiotInATrenchcoat (Tumblr Account Unknown)

It might seem a little late for Christmas, but there’s never a bad time for some Sanders Sides fluff. In this fic, Deceit finds himself in a bit of a spot due to the temperature of the mindscape dropping because of Thomas’ holiday spirit. In an effort to get some warmth, he ventures over to the light side of the mindscape as a snake and manages to find Patton, who agrees to let him curl up around his neck like a scarf to warm up. As previously stated, this does feature Deceit in a sympathetic role, and also mentions Remus in a similarly sympathetic way. Other than that, it’s just good clean family friendly fluff.

Remy’s Birthday 2020 by screamingatstars (No Tumblr Account)

A simple yet sweet story in honor of the birthday (anniversary of his first appearance) of Sleep, aka Remy. Remy wakes up to his birthday to find his husband Emile making coffee and breakfast. That’s basically it, just pure domestic fluff. There is some mild swearing, but really there’s nothing else to worry about. Just a fun little bit of happy love.

We Should’ve Been More Careful by CharlieRhees (aka @charcharmoomoo)

I don’t think I will ever not be a sucker for get together fics. Here, Virgil overhears the other three sides talking about needing to tell him something, and Virgil jumps to the conclusion that they know about his feelings for the three and that they’re going to tell him they don’t reciprocate. In fact, they’re not aware of his feelings and were wanting to invite him into their relationship, leading to happiness and sappiness. Don’t you just love when love prevails?

Distraction by SandersFander1820 (aka @sandersfander1820)

A short but sweet story about Virgil having a bad day and Patton finding a way to distract him from his dark thoughts and brooding. Absolutely worth your time. Trust me.

In your arms I’ll find the Solution by Eshisakka (aka @eshithepetty)

Another short but sweet little story featuring Patton and Virgil. But in this rather angstier fic, it’s Patton who’s having the bad day. And thus it’s Virgil’s turn to offer up the comfort and support he needs. Again, absolutely worth a read.

The Astronomy Classroom Ghost by anxiouslyfred (aka @anxiouslyfred)

A Hogwarts AU that stars Logan as the ghost of a former student, who spends his days studying and sitting in on the Astronomy and Arithmancy classes. But his routine is somewhat interrupted by the friendly advances of a living student named Patton and his two friends Roman and Virgil. While it does feature Logan as a ghost, it doesn’t discuss his death in any way, and is otherwise trigger free. Perhaps a bit odd to mix a Halloween story in with the Christmas remnants, but whatever. Time is just an illusion, like death, or pants.

For Roman, With Love. by LiamLogan (aka @supergayandaesthetic)

Another Christmas fic featuring Logan and Roman celebrating with their neighbors Patton and Virgil. It’s actually rather nice to see a version of Logan with the quirk of actually being all giddy and excited for Christmas. And the four of them are just so kind to each other, especially the couples. Truly, a wonderful depiction of the best of what Christmas is all about.

Tag by HorseCrazyWriter76 (Tumblr Account Unknown)

A nice story featuring Deceit observing some of the daily habits and behaviors of his housemates, including his odd friend Remus, Remus’ brother Roman, and Roman’s three boyfriends Logan, Patton, and Virgil. It’s basically all just domestic fluff with a hint of silliness. This one does feature Deceit, who chronically lies, but you can tell, as well as Remus, who is pretty chaotic but not too triggeringly so. And both are sympathetic in this.

One’s True Heart by nobody_home (aka @aturtleonjupiter)

Seriously, I am such a pushover when it comes to getting together fics. In this Medieval AU, royal advisor Patton is comforted by court magician Logan (at the behest of King Roman) after Deceit, another advisor who is cursed to only speak in lies and half-truths, says that the others only pity him and don’t actually take him seriously. Logan assures him, and even admits that he has feelings for him, which Patton reciprocates. Deceit here is portrayed in a morally neutral way, and Remus is barely mentioned, and there are some mentions of supernatural elements. But other than that you should be good. With wonderfully colorful descriptions of two people in love, this one will probably make you cry, but in a good way.

Pizza and Nailed It! by LissaWho5 (aka @lamp-calm-sanders)

I probably should have just called this the Moxiety Week post. We’re ending things this week with another short but sweet story about our resident father figure figment and our dark strange son. Virgil can’t wait for his husband to get home so they can spend the evening together with pizza and the series Nailed It! on Netflix. Again, pure domestic fluff, and I absolutely love it.

*****

Well, that does it for this week. But before we go, there’s one last bit of business. This week’s Featured Fic Writer is:

shnuffeluv (aka @sanderssidesfanfiction)

A truly prodigious writer with a wonderful talent. He's even an officially published novelist. How cool is that?! And he definitely deserves your love and support.

*****

So, with all that being said, I hope you guys enjoy this week’s selections. Feel free to give these guys some love and attention with some kudos, some comments, maybe even a few bookmarks. You won’t be disappointed.

In any case, thanks for your participation. If you’re interested in learning more about my Fic-Rec Friday program or would like to check out previous weeks’ entries, you can find them all here at my Fic-Rec Friday Masterpost. And if you’d like to be added to my Fic-Rec Friday Tag List, or if you’re on the list and would like to be removed, just drop me a line either in my messages or my inbox and I’ll take care of it.

Once again, thank you all, and happy reading!

General Tag List:

@ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @panicattheeverywheremcr

Fic-Rec Friday Tag List:

@kunnuglegur-tortimandi @max-is-tired

#Deceit Sanders Mention TW #Remus Sanders Mention TW #Death Mention TW #Supernatural Elements #David's Fic-Rec Friday

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imnotcameraready · 5 years

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chivalry is dead (12)

A/N: WE’VE REACHED!!!!!!!!!!!!! KISSES!!!! HELL YEAH—

there are also So many characters in this one y’all im so sorry to do this to you but also Suffer — since they’re not gonna be reoccurring, i’m adding a characters tag so y’all know what you’re getting into. also, i felt a liiiiittle bad with all the angst i was giving, so since chapters 12 and 13 happen simultaneously, y’all are getting the Softs for now :)

what, angst on the horizon? says who? ;)

Characters: Deceit, Patton, the Playwright, the Artist, the Bard, Sleep (Remy), Dad Guy, Teacher Guy

WARNINGS: bruises and black eyes, references to imprisonment, food/food mention — i dont think there's much in this chapter, but if i missed anything, please let me know!!

Words: 6961

Pairings: i’m so. so proud to announce. welcome to some Roceit, some Royality, a sliver of Moceit, and Dad Guy x Teacher Guy (the best ship, imho)

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for some of the series long warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing, both of which are heavily present here!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

general tag: @jemthebookworm

enjoy!!!! sorry for the long intro, and ilysm !! <3 <3 <3

This was very much not Deceit’s forte. He ran his hand through the Bard’s hair for the umpteenth time, shooting Patton a terrified expression. Patton was on the Bard’s other side, arms wrapped around his waist, head resting on his shoulder.

“You’re okay, Roman,” he whispered, again, “You’re okay.”

The trio had been standing in a weird multi-hug for nearly ten minutes, ever since the Thief absconded. Patton figured it’d be safer to stay with Deceit and the Bard; he was more accustomed to seeing Roman cry, sad to say, but it was still only a handful of times. He did know that Deceit was very much not equipped to handle situations like this, though, and, well. He didn’t exactly trust Deceit to not make things worse.

He wasn’t, though, so Patton was pretty happy. The Bard had even finished crying a few minutes ago. That wasn’t the issue. He just refused to let up from where he was pressed into Deceit’s chest, breathing slow and quiet.

It wasn’t like Deceit minded too much. It was a little annoying. Just a little. But it was also comforting. He tried his best to not look at Patton’s little glances, but Deceit knew his face was a little red. He didn’t want to let go of Roman. Not when he was this close, also comforted in his hold.

Despite Deceit’s strategy of letting go of his crush, he was almost falling faster. He pressed his lips to the Bard’s head and flicked his eyes up at Patton when he began talking again.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’ve just gotta get goin’ now.”

In all honesty?

The Bard had long since calmed down. He was now drunk on happiness. Yeah, sure, he was still really pissed off at the Thief, he’d ruined his make up, punched him in the face, made the Child cry, generally put a damper on the whole situation, but that was to be a problem for another day. The arms wrapped around his waist, the body he was snuggled into, the hand that was running through his hair, it all made him feel so secure. So loved.

He didn’t think Deceit was much of a physical person, but after this? The Bard would have to remember to go to the snake more often for cuddles.

He closed his eyes again and inhaled slowly.

Patton always smelt like cookies. Chocolate chip cookies and occasionally chai, depending on what he’d baked recently. Sometimes of just sugar.

Deceit smelt a little more just like a person, yeah, but the scent was carefully interlaced with hints of lavender and jasmine. Did Deceit wear cologne or something? Maybe he had a self-care routine. The Bard would also have to remember to have Roman ask Deceit if he wanted to do masks and manicures together.

The could just not follow the Thief. The Bard could invite Patton and Deceit to his home, hidden away amongst the pages of this story they’d written, watch a movie and bundle under some blankets together. He could just take the time and space to be content. He could take in the pleasures of life!

But, alas, it was curtains for those dreams.

“Alright, Padre, I’m good. I’m gucci,” the Bard murmured, “It’s just so nice to be held. King Cobra, honey, were you always this warm. And you’re so lovely, Patt-puff, I could fall asleep right here.”

Patton snorted, catching the briefest glimpse of Deceit’s bright red face. “You can have all the snuggles you want later, kiddo,” he patted the Bard’s chest again, “You just gotta—”

“Wait.”

The change was immediate. The Bard stood upright, pulling his face out of Deceit’s chest and turning his head around. “Someone’s singing.”

Patton and Deceit shared a confused frown. Faintly, they could hear a voice, far, far away, but growing louder.

“For years, I’ve roamed these empty halls~!”

“Yeah,” the Bard tapped Deceit’s back and pulled away, both other Sides letting go finally.

There was still mascara dried around his face, and the eye that’d been punched was swelling and angry red, but the Bard didn’t seem to care. Patton rubbed his arms, missing the warmth and scolding himself internally for wanting something so unrealistic. He nudged Deceit, who was grumbling and stretching his arms, and both looked up.

In the Bard’s hands was the ukulele, forgotten in the earlier argument, and he twirled it before lifting it to his chest. Strumming a few precise chords, he continued the song, like a bird returning a call.

“Why have a ballroom with no balls~!” he twirled in place and sprang toward the sound.

He sure seemed happier now. Patton smiled, watching him perform, and rested one of his hands on his cheek.

Roman was just so full of life, always. It was astounding.

Wait, the Bard was moving. Patton blinked, looking up to find Deceit watching the Bard, mesmerized as well.

….Ah.

So Deceit liked him, too?

That’d complicate things. Deceit and Roman were a little friendlier, and Patton definitely didn’t want to get in the way of anything, if it made them both happy. If there was anything. Of course there was something. Deceit and Roman were both so charming, how couldn’t there be something? That’d be like giving someone chocolate without the flowers on Valentines day!

“Finally they’re opening up the ga~ates~!”

Distantly, they heard someone echo the same line, getting closer. It was the Roman version of echolocation.

Oh. What if Deceit’s story about Roman and the pit was just a cover up for him being in Roman’s room? What if they’d been together?

Patton shook his head. Imagining worries like that was just gonna get his head spun in a tizzy. He chuckled to himself at his pun, though gained no mirth from it, and tugged Deceit’s hand.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta follow,” he said.

Deceit blinked, looking at Patton, then back at the Bard, who’d already dance-walked his way halfway down the street. “Ah, of course,” he hurried after the Bard, faster.

He didn’t want Patton to say anything about the staring and, frankly, Patton didn’t want to say anything either. Nor his own disappointment of missing them both.

“There’ll be actual, real-life people~”

The Bard strummed, twisting down a road, and Deceit and Patton followed.

They were probably being led to another Roman, since they could make out his voice as it grew louder. Were there any more Romans, though? Or, well, any new ones.

“It’ll be totally strange!”

The other singer was just behind a corner.

“Wow, am I so ready for this change~!”

“Will you cut it out! It’s bad enough we’re out in public,” the Artist grumbled, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie, “And now you’re drawing everyone’s attention.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my voice bothering you?” the Playwright shot back, bumping his hip against the Artist’s as he shouted, “‘Cause for the first time in forever~! There’ll be music, there’ll be light!”

Deceit and Patton blinked, watching the two bicker as they walked closer. Neither of them seemed very scared of the world around them; in fact, both were looking around at the scenery, as though noticing it for the first time. While the Artist was trying to hide, his hood up and everything, the Playwright was walking around with a coat slung over his shoulders and otherwise in the same outfit they’d seen him in the other day.

The Bard had stopped just around the bend, standing in the pathway and bouncing on his feet with an excited grin, as though waiting for them to notice him.

“Uh, yeah, a little. Shut up.”

“I, wh—” the Playwright’s singing screeched to a halt as he glared at the Artist. “How?!”

“Sounds too much like my voice.”

“We are the same person, you dunce, how—wait,” the Playwright looked up and squinted, “Oh, it’s Bard.”

The Bard struck a pose, pointing his ukulele into the sky like a sword. “It sure is! It’s been so long, Playwright, Artist!” he dashed forward, ignoring the Artist’s shouts of “NO” and the Playwright’s confused spluttering as he hugged both with his arms, “I’ve missed you both so dearly!”

He spun in a circle once before pulling away, smoothing their sides down with a hand. He then leaned forward and pecked their cheeks, one after another, shocking them both just enough that neither pointed out his black eye.

This again? It was much too high energy for Deceit, not as he had to study this...what, fifth Roman? Fourth? How many had he met, by now? Jesus, how many were there. He slunk back, behind Patton, letting the moral side do the talking.

“Good to see you again, Playwright! You too, Artist,” Patton smiled at the Artist, who flinched back and tugged the side of his hood.

Patton wasn’t about to bring up the fight from earlier that morning. The Child said, on their way out, that the Artist didn’t have much outside his art. Maybe it wasn’t good for him to be yelling at them, it was definitely upsetting. And Patton was definitely hurt. A little betrayed. A little confused. But that didn’t mean Patton would be angry. He didn’t hold grudges very well.

“Um,” the Artist looked down, twisting his foot against the cobblestone path. He couldn’t, in his right conscious, not apologize immediately. “Yeah. Dad, I just–I’m really sorry about this morning. I over reacted, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you and Logan and Child. I’m, uh, it was dumb. I’m sorry.”

There it was. Out in the open.

The Artist didn’t want his perfection at the expense of love.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he twitched. It felt almost numb, like television static. He looked up to see Patton smiling widely at him, almost beaming. “You’re not dumb for having your own boundaries and caring about what you make. Yeah, it was….” his smile faltered slightly, reminded of how terrified he’d been that the Artist would actually stab them with a palette knife, “I can’t say it’s okay. But thank you for apologizing, and I’m sorry Logan and I made you uncomfortable.”

….The Artist really hadn’t expected that. His cheeks tinged with a bit of a blush as he looked down again, still fiddling with his hood.

Patton always knew what to say.

“I don’t wanna just brush over this issue.”

The Artist closed his eyes and exhaled. Patton chuckled to himself, but watched the Artist closer. Um. Maybe he didn’t understand?

Patton didn’t want to actually offend him, not right after that apology.

“Get it? Like a paint br—”

“Patton. Darling. While I appreciate the sentiment, I must admit that our relationship is a,” the Artist opened one eye, a tiny smile growing, “Work in progress.”

The Bard and Patton both hooted, the Bard plucking his ukulele once. “Good one!” Patton patted the Artist’s shoulder, “Thought I was gonna start crying there for a second, but I’m glad that was a pun, too!”

“They’re ridiculous,” the Playwright murmured.

“He’s you,” Deceit gestured to the Artist, then to the Bard. “And so’s he.”

“My cross to bear, I suppose,” the Playwright said with a tired shrug.

They’d both stepped back when the Artist apologized, leaning on a wall and watching the scene. It felt like a personal moment of reflection, in all honesty. And they didn’t have the lack of apprehension that the Bard displayed, listening in and looking between the two.

Deceit exhaled, leaning back. So Patton was bonding with yet another figment. Big whoop. No water off his scales, no sir. He turned his head, lazily looking around

Hang on. Those men were guards.

Alarms blared in his head as he reached over to the Playwright. “Guards,” he hissed.

A quiet tongue click signified that the Playwright saw them. “Patton, Artist, Bard, we need to go,” he moved toward the group.

The Bard looked back, eyes widening as the guards began marching towards them. “Son of Hephaestus.”

The ukulele disappeared from his hands as he grabbed Patton with and the Artist with the other, tugging them along. The street was populated enough, characters and people walking around, but they were parting for the guards like a predator through a school of fish. Where were they supposed to run to? The Bard knew the city well enough, but all of the maneuvers he used to escape danger wouldn’t work with such a long procession. Not to mention that the Playwright and Artist had never been in the town. In an altercation, none of them would stand a chance; all the real fighters had left.

Patton winced. What were they gonna—

“Hey, babes, lookie here!”

“Oh, thank fucking Pollock,” the Artist breathed. “It’s our idiot.”

Patton and Deceit both snapped around, looking forward. There was Thomas. Not. Not Thomas. No, it was one of his characters, wearing a black leather jacket and a messenger bag, holding a half-full Starbucks venti cup with some unknown iced drink within. Somehow, the paper labeling him as “Sleep” was still firmly taped to his chest despite being held up by a single, half-inch piece of scotch tape. But, you know. Big mood.

He waved them forward again from the doorway he was standing in. “C’mon already, we don’t have all day,” Sleep chirped again, waving a little faster.

You know what? Deceit was going to question this one. He’d been through a lot, this past day. Roman wanted to play a medieval theme, but had random modern appliances strewn about? Yeah, he’d accept that. Virgil throttled him? Sure, yeah, that would happen, that was still within the last 24 hours.

But this?

“Hey, Sleepytime Tea,” the Bard hummed, pecking Sleep’s cheek as he ducked past. “Thank you for the rescue!”

Deceit pointed at Sleep. “That. Is. One of our characters.”

Patton grinned, holding his other hand and pulling him along. “Mhm! Child said they’re all around the Imagination. Ooh, I’m excited to meet him!”

Oh, yeah, that was super explanatory! That solved ALL of Deceit’s problems! That made total and complete sense!

“Sleep,” the Playwright greeted, nodding to him as he slipped past.

Deceit was going to go absolutely feral one of these days.

Sleep tilted his sunglasses and grabbed Deceit’s back. “Let’s go, girls, into the lil’ house.”

“Remy,” the Artist murmured, pulling Patton in.

Sleep nodded to him as well, shoving Deceit into the room and closing the door. He threw two locks, then spun around to lean his back against it.

All five of them watched, varying levels of panic on their faces, while Sleep took a long sip of his coffee. They could definitely hear the guards interrogating someone outside, so it wouldn’t be long until they were approached.

“Are we gonna—” the Bard began, only to be silenced by Sleep raising his hand.

He pulled the straw away from his lips and exhaled.

“Oh my God,” Deceit mumbled, “And I thought Roman was dramatic. Holy shit, you’re a character.”

“Oh, honey, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Sleep lowered his sunglasses and winked.

He fixed them, raising his drink to behind the group, further into the building. “Alright, lets go. You all, like, super do not want to run into those guys.”

Sleep led the way. The room they’d entered into was a large foyer, to a house but not. He led them down the hall, up some stairs, up some more stairs, and then out into a bridge connecting this building to the next.

The Playwright nudged the Bard, once they were out on the bridge, and pointed silently at his eye.

That was right, the black eye and smudged make up was still clear as day. He couldn’t be having that. The Bard nodded and pressed a hand to his face. The make up vanished, reappearing as though it’d never been smudged with his tears. Carefully, he also pressed onto the bruise, and the skin all sank back in and flattened out into regularity.

It was best to not show his damage. Bad enough that he’d cried in front of the other Sides. He wasn’t about to walk around with an actual wound. It would bruise over regardless, there wasn’t anything he could do about that, but Roman didn’t want them to see him as anything other than, well. That depended on the Roman. The Bard didn’t want them to see him as anything other than beautiful.

Patton and Deceit didn’t notice. That was fine, perfect on all three Romans’ accounts. They followed right behind Sleep, the other three trailing at the rear. They’d already seen most of the Imagination, having been there when it was built (though building and navigating were two different skills); for the other two, everything was starkly new, even Sleep.

The Imagination did have more structure than they’d seen the other day. Arches, bridges, buildings that looked more defined.

Something certainly changed in the world. Maybe it was the same thing that caused the Imagination to have a regular day/night cycle? Deceit pursed his lips and summoned his notebook again, jotting down some notes. A curious world indeed.

Meanwhile, Patton was just getting excited. It was Sleep! He was an older character than, well, Patton! Granted, Patton wasn’t exactly a character, that was more so the length of time he’d been in front of the camera. But he could still remember the day when Roman pitched him — a sassy Sue, dressed to the sassy nines and going out to fun sassy parties while getting no sleep whatsoever. Logan might have thought it was on the nose to just tape a piece of paper to his shirt, but, hey, it worked!

“You’re Sleep, right? It’s really nice to meet you,” Patton said, bounding a little closer.

Sleep glanced back at him with a small smile and waved two fingers, a lazy salute. “Right back at you, Patton. Heard you’re a ball of punny sunshine — that’s the Morali-tea, sis.”

Ah, well, his reputation precedes him. Patton laughed, holding the wall, and Sleep grinned. “That’s a good one!” he covered his mouth and rubbed his cheeks a little, continuing. “Where’re we headed? Ooh, and also, do you….have any other name? Than Sleep?”

“Nah, nowhere in particular,” Sleep waved his hand dismissively, “And kinda? Emile calls me Remy. So does the fandom.”

“I think the fandom coined that one,” Deceit said, “A pleasure as well, Remy.”

Sleep put up a peace sign in greetings. “Yep. If you wanna go by names, then it’s, like, definitely all good to call me Remy,” he shrugged. “Either works. What can ya do.”

What can you do indeed. “Alrighty, Remy, you didn’t answer my first question though! I don’t think we’re just going to nowhere,” Patton picked up the conversation again.

“Oh, that. Right now we’re just walking around until I get the all clear.”

“The all clear,” the Playwright repeated, eyebrow raised.

“Mhm,” Remy took another sip of his drink and shrugged, “There’s a Starbucks down the hall if you nerds wanna get drinks, too.”

He pointed down a hall and — wait, where in the blazes were they?! Deceit stopped focusing on Remy’s back and looked around.

At the moment, they were in what looked like it could be a church, with stained glass windows and a high vaulted ceiling, save for the fact that it had no pews and was more like a crossroads. Some people walked past, shuffling around in the sides. Some of them looked like Thomas, actually. Possibly characters from other vines? Not all of them were marked with signs so clear as Remy’s.

It seemed that the Starbucks idea had been shot down, because Remy shrugged and led them to the left. As soon as they turned, though, his phone buzzed.

“You’re in my world now, not your world~ And I’ve got friends on the o—” Remy held the phone up to his ear, “Hey, girl, what’s up?”

He held up his drink, stopping the rest of the entourage, and nodded his head. “Mhm. Sounds gucci, I’ll bring these bitches back ‘round. See you in five,” he hung up quick and slid his phone back into his pocket.

Remy pivoted on his heel, facing the group once more with a broad smile. All his dramatics really reminded Patton of Roman, which was making him kind of sad. He missed his energy.

The Bard’s hand nudged Patton’s subtly, and they laced their hands together while Remy began explaining. “That’s the signal, back around this way!”

“Wait, are we walking all the way back?” the Artist asked, anger mounting in his tone, “Remy, you can’t be serious. Can’t we go to Emile’s office or something?”

“Nah, nah, I’m dropping you all off somewhere else. Emile’s got appointments all day today, anyway,” Remy shrugged, “If you wanted to hang with him so bad, you shoulda left your house.”

The Playwright snickered behind a hand, and the Artist elbowed him in the side. “Now, now, no fighting,” Patton said, eager to break up another dispute before it began, “I’m glad you’re out now.”

To that, though, the Artist just pulled his hood tighter around his head and mumbled incoherently. That was okay, it diffused the tension! Better awkward silences and mumblings than any actual physical fighting.

He didn’t even want to think of the implications of the Thief punching the Bard. What was that, Roman punching himself? Why would he be so okay with that?

Like, Patton knew. He’d been upset with himself since they met with the Playwright at the very, very, very beginning. He should have known Roman was self-conscious. It wasn’t the best kept secret.

Agh, he promised himself that he wouldn’t think about it! They were going to get Roman back! It was going to be okay, gosh darned it!

“Patton,” Deceit’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “Come now.”

Deceit carefully touched Patton’s free hand, wrapping his fingers around Patton’s.

The Bard was right, Patton decided right then and there. Deceit was surprisingly warm.

Patton gave his hand a squeeze, turning to him with a smile. “Thanks,” his voice was quiet, just for the two of them.

Deceit, human-side-of-face lightly flushed, returned the smile. But why would Deceit be blushing at him? Patton’s mind trailed off, just as Remy stopped the group yet again.

“Alright, we’re he~ere!” he sang out the word “here,” throwing open a door.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Patton lifted a hand, pointing fingers directly with the man standing in the opposite doorway, holding two pizza boxes and wearing the same blue polo, grey sweater, and khaki pants that he usually donned. The man dropped the pizzas onto the table besides himself and pointed as well.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Deceit groaned.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” the Bard fist pumped into the air.

Dad Guy smiled first. “I think I need new prescriptions! You’ve got me seeing double!”

A laugh from the kitchen indicated that he wasn’t alone. Patton grinned back, shooting Dad Guy some finger guns. “You can try mine! My prescriptions are Patton-edly perfect!”

“Awh, c’mere kiddo, great to meet you!”

“‘Kiddo?’ Haven’t you felt my shirt? It’s all Dad material right here.”

“The only material you’re gonna need is some new material! Can’t go around reusing old jokes!”

“Well, an old man’s gotta have old jokes! Double the puns and double the Dad!”

Remy patted Deceit’s back and gave him a sympathetic shrug. “I’ve gotta dip, gotta meet with some other people around the town. You know, midday naps and all that. Good luck with that,” he gestured to the two dads, who were exchanging one liners back and forth.

Deceit only responded with a glare that begged for mercy.

Remy laughed.

The Playwright walked past Patton and Dad Guy, into where Teacher Guy was sitting at another table, a stack of papers beside him that needed hypothetical grading. There’d been too many people, too much going on in the past day. He needed someone who he could trust to be quiet if needed and, thankfully, Teacher Guy asked much fewer questions than Logan.

The Artist motioned for Deceit to follow him to the other table with the Bard, who was already opening the top-most pizza box and stealing a few slices. The trio actually stole the entire top box and slunk away to another room, just up some stairs, while the other four traded silence and puns. There was a balcony opposite of two doors, presumably bedrooms, and they sat outside on the ground, huddled around the large box of pizza.

It was probably lunch time. They didn’t have Logan to tell them that eating on a schedule was a vital part of setting one’s internal clock, so the only indicator that it was “lunch time” was the tinge of hunger in each of their stomachs.

“If this hasn’t been a day,” the Artist sighed.

“Oh, definitely. The Thief punched me earlier,” the Bard laughed a little before biting into a slice, talking through the food. “Y’ kn’w, ah d’n’t e’he’ i’.”

Deceit snorted, looking away and laughing into a hand while the Artist reprimanded him. “Oh my God, chew your fucking food.”

The Bard rolled his eyes and swallowed. “I mean, I didn’t expect it. To be honest, I always forget that the Thief’s a violent one.”

“I always remember. Ever since he glared at me ‘first time we formed, I’ve been a little iffy about him,” the Artist waved his third slice in a lazy shrug. “You’re lucky he doesn’t hate your guts.’

“Oh, you’re lucky that absolutely no one hates yours.”

“Really? Thief and Playwright always seem two strokes away from stabbing me.”

“That’s because they don’t understand art. I know they love you! And that’s why WE love each other, remember?” the Bard took a bite out of the Artist’s slice and ignored his offended huffs, “And Deceit! How are you feeling?”

Deceit blinked. He’d been taking in the conversation, trying to dissect the differences between every iteration of Roman.

The Artist and the Bard were an interesting pair. They seemed to be so similar, yet so distinctly different, what with the Artist being an introvert and the Bard more extroverted. The Artist working with physical mediums whereas the Bard performed. But those glaring differences seemed to mask differences in desire, intent — that’s what Deceit had to focus on.

“Hey, Bruce Banner, come back. We miss you,” the Bard patted his knee with a smile. “Are you feeling okay? This has probably been quite the journey, especially with how fast things’ve been happening.”

“Well,” Deceit should indulge the Romans, if only for a little, “It has been. I haven’t spent this much time with….any other. Sides. In a while.”

The Artist nodded sympathetically while the Bard blinked. He tilted his head. “Oh. I thought you and the Dark Sides...? You know? Worked together more.”

Deceit shrugged. He wasn’t revealing anything. “Perhaps we do. In that case, then, it’s the longest I’ve spent with such good company,” he smiled coyly at the Bard.

It took a few seconds, but once the Bard fully interpreted what he said, he flushed almost as bright as his waist sash. He giggled, running his hands through his hair and swaying from side to side.

The Artist beside him also turned red, but just squinted tiredly at Deceit. “C’mon, you don’t have to play us,” he grumbled quietly, “The Prince isn’t here.”

“I know Roman’s not just a prince, he’s much, much more,” Deceit leaned on his hand, resting his chin on it as he watched the Artist.

“Anyone’d know that. He’s an artist. A bard. Playwright, thief, dragon, damsel, child, he’s all of us. But he’s all still a big dumbass,” the Artist ran a hand through his hair, pursing his lips in frustration, “You don’t have to pretend to love us or anything.”

It was Deceit’s turn to be confused. He frowned, leaning back a little in contemplation. Here he thought he was being obvious. And while staying behind the guise of secrecy benefited him greatly, if it was upsetting Roman this much….“Do you really think everything that I say is insincere?”

“Well….” The Artist looked away, staring down the Bard, who was still a bubbly and flustered mess, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

….That did make a little sense. Deceit scooted closer to the Artist. “May I touch your face?” he asked, voice soft.

The Artist’s eyes flicked back up to him quickly before he looked down at the pizza box. There wasn’t any harm. And….he couldn’t say he didn’t want to be touched more. “Sure.”

Deceit lifted a hand to cup the Artist’s cheek, cradling his head as gently as he could. Unconsciously, the Artist leaned into it, exhaling slow as to not lose his self control.

This was….a dream. It had to be. Because Deceit had wished for this for so long, and he was very used to not getting what he wanted. He just had to keep it together.

“Roman, darling,” to that, even the Bard stopped swaying, listening to what Deceit said, “I can’t say I’m the most honest person, but I can promise you this is no lie.”

With that, he pressed a careful kiss to the Artist’s left temple. The Artist’s eyes went wide as saucers as he realized, with an incredible start, that Deceit. Had just kissed him. Deceit had just kissed him, one of the saddest versions of Roman in this miserable little game.

The Bard covered his mouth with both hands, but even that couldn’t hide his elation.

“Holy fuck.”

He fell backwards, laying on the ground with his arms splayed out. It felt like he….was whole.

The Damsel looked out the small window of his room, squinting into the bright light between the bars.

What had just happened? He reached up to his head and ran his hand slowly through his hair, grazing over his left temple.

It felt like someone had just….

Deceit smiled a tiny bit, watching the two Romans collectively lose their minds. He was adorable when flustered. “You’re beautiful. Every bit of you,” he said, trying to force the Artist, force Roman, to understand that he was being truthful.

Even if it was a part of Roman, it still meant the world for Deceit to know that Roman knew. They could write this off later, write it off as some —

Deceit wanted to scream. Hang the fuck on. Oh, holy shit. He’d just admitted it.

He leaned back, trying to keep his movements as slow and deliberate and not-panicked as they were before, but holy shit. He’d just said it. He was in love. It was a round-about statement, series of movements and signals, but of course it was, with him.

He was in love with Roman — was it just Roman? It was a different feeling, but the same feeling across the board. God, Deceit didn’t want to deal with this, not on top of everything he was learning about the Imagination and the other Sides. He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his scaled forehead, tugging his hat down just a tiny bit more. At least the Romans didn’t notice his sudden and extreme change in posture.

Their collective stupor was disturbed by a shout from below, and then the Playwright calling them downstairs.

“ARTIST! WE FUCKING FORGOT TO TELL THEM!” he snapped, “GET DOWN HERE, HURRY!”

The Artist swore, clearing his throat and standing up. “We, uh, we need to go downstairs, go ahead,” he motioned for Deceit and the Bard to leave, “Ah, fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” the Bard picked up the empty pizza box and looped his other arm around Deceit’s, much to the snake’s chagrin. “And we’ll let you tell the others later, okay? We don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at all.”

That was….kind. Deceit didn’t know how to respond, he’d kind of expected the Bard to excitedly blurt it out at some point. Perhaps he would. Deceit couldn’t trust that.

He nodded, and the Bard grinned. He led the way down the stairs, barreling through the kitchen and setting the box down before entering the main room again.

The Playwright, Patton, Dad Guy, and Teacher Guy were all sitting around in a circle. The second couch was empty, so the Bard pulled Deceit onto it, paying the utmost attention. The Artist just sank into the couch on Deceit’s other side, eyes locked onto some papers on the table. Two of them were open, letters that had been opened and were now folded back into the envelopes they’d come from. Only the letter’s receiver’s name was visible, but that gave quite a bit of backstory by themselves.

Cordial invitation of Dad Guy to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

Cordial invitation of Teacher Guy to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

On the stack’s top was another letter, with a red kiss mark where the stamp would typically go.

Honorable invitation of Patton ‘Morality’ Sanders to the Entry Gala — in celebration of your welcome to the Imagination.

“Ew, he kissed it,” the Bard bit his lip and looked up, scanning the Playwright’s face. “What is it? I’m guessing it’s from Dragon?”

The Playwright nodded to Patton, and he picked up his invitation and cut it open. Quickly, his eyes scanned it over, and a frown overtook his features. “This’ so weird, a gala? Like a party?”

“That’s my suspicion,” the Playwright said, then rubbed the back of his neck. “We all know, er….”

“Roman’s got a flair for the dramatics,” the Artist continued, voice soft, “Dragon got a lot of that.”

“But not all!” the Bard raised his hands up in Roman’s typical princely pose, grinning cheekily.

The Playwright and the Artist both rolled their eyes. “Yes,” the Playwright said. “It looks as though Dragon is trying to lure us all to the castle.”

“....Gosh,” Patton breathed, setting the invitation down on the table, so everyone could read it.

His hand was shaking a little. He did want to see the Dragon, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about the implications of the letter. And a part of him hoped that….it hadn’t been the Dragon who sent it. Maybe the other Romans were wrong. Maybe the Prince, HIS prince, was there.

To Patton,

Roman ‘Dragon’ Sanders invites you to a masquerade gala celebrating your entrance into the Imagination, as well as Logan, Virgil, and Deceit’s. Please provide your own costume and mask, as this will be a masquerade ball.

It will be a grand evening of food, dance, and excitement, made all the better with your attendance. Entry at the Drawbridge gate tonight, gates open at sundown.

No RSVP required.

See you soon, my love.

Prince Roman

“Oh, fuck him, he’s just gonna sign it like that? What a lilly-livered jackass!” the Bard’s nose scrunched up.

He leaned back again and turned up his head, repulsed by the Dragon’s blatant arrogance. And the gall, calling Patton his love! It was like he got all the pride and none of the brains! What the hell! The Bard almost wanted to trade him one bit of self-indulgence.

Oh, he might have to throw some of his own punches, once he came face to face with the Dragon. What a disgrace to the Prince’s memory!

“It’s not somethin’ to celebrate,” Dad Guy said, a small smile on his face. The way his brows pinched definitely betrayed his worry.

Teacher Guy still patted his shoulder and shook his head. “Not the time, Dad.”

“Sorry, you know I goof when I’m nervous.”

“Hang on,” the Artist said, rereading the note, “Playwright and my invitations were different.”

He reached into his hoodie pocket and took out his own invitation, spreading it out on the table.

To Roman ‘Artist’ Sanders,

Roman ‘Dragon’ Sanders invites you to a masquerade gala celebrating Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s entrance into the Imagination. Please provide your own costume and mask, as this will be a masquerade ball.

It will be a grand evening of food, dance, and excitement — with a very special and very familiar guest. Entry at the Drawbridge gate tonight, gates open at sundown.

No RSVP required.

Come prepared.

“He’s….so he’s pretending to be Prince,” Deceit bit his tongue. “That has got to be who the guest is, in your invitation.”

He picked up both letters, turning them around to face himself as he turned over the phrasing in his mind. This was almost his area of expertise. The minute changes of word, the different references to the Prince, everything was catered to the recipient of the letter. Probably as a means to get whoever the letter was sent to do go.

Him and Patton both couldn’t hide their disappointment, but….it did make sense, in his world. The Dragon was manipulating them into attending, offering whatever he could.

“I don’t get it,” the Bard said, crossing his arms, “What’s the point of this? A ball? Like, that sounds flipping sweet, but for what?”

The Playwright responded. “My hypothesis is that it’s to get us all in one place. Every one of us figments, and every Side, but I don’t understand why he would—”

“Okay, so he’s gonna kill us on the dance floor,” the Artist said, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Why do you think he’s inviting us, then?” Teacher Guy asked, “I mean, we’re probably going? Not much danger for us, and, well….”

“I wanna dance with you,” Dad Guy declared, throwing his arm around Teacher Guy’s shoulders.

Teacher Guy smiled, patting Dad Guy’s shoulder fondly as he turned to the Playwright again with more questions on his tongue. “It’s a free party. Knowing that we’re all Thomas, there’ll probably be pizza. Why do you think he’s throwing it all like a party? And what’s the point of having the costumes?”

“Dramatics?” the Playwright offered, voice weak in confusion. “The Dragon would have to figure out which costumed Thomas-esque people are the Sides, are us, and are, well, characters.”

The Artist exhaled sharply. “This is a long way to go for aesthetics. That can’t be all he wants.”

“Either way, we should go,” Patton said, voice soft, “We….Deceit, we were all talking about this. We’ve gotta talk to the Dragon.”

Deceit looked up from the letters, meeting Patton’s eyes with understanding. He nodded slowly. “I agree. No doubt it’s a trap. Of course, of course it’s a trap,” his brain was working at the speed of light, trying to figure out the smartest passage through this, “But we do need to meet him.”

A beat of silence followed that declaration.

Patton was afraid. They couldn’t not meet the Dragon — he was a part of Roman! And every part was valuable and loved and he needed to hug — but the way that the Artist curled in on himself, the way that the Playwright was squeezing his knees with his fists, the way that the Bard was trying to smile, as though it could cover up all of their fears…. It was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. He was going to talk to the Dragon and give him a scolding. And, if he managed to get through to the Dragon, then it might help the other Romans not be afraid of that part of him. That was what mattered most.

Of course this would be difficult. Deceit would have to tread carefully. He didn’t want to risk any more damage to Roman’s psyche. He almost wanted to forget that kiss, that stupid kiss, because now it was dwelling too heavily on his mind for him to focus on the task at hand. This gala, this party that the Dragon was throwing….did he have the Prince? None of the Romans knew where Prince had gone. The way they talked about him made it sound like he was dead.

There was no way he was dead. And there was no way Deceit was going to let any of them get hurt, either.

At least the other Romans weren’t arguing back this time around. Hopefully they’d been convinced of this turn’s necessity.

God, he was so happy he didn’t have to talk in circles around this topic.

“Well, um,” Dad Guy fidgeted with the sleeve of his cardigan, “I don’t know what you all wanna do now. I’ve got cookies in—”

A sharp knock at the door shut him up. They all froze, huddled in their seats and couches. Deceit actually drew one of his daggers, poised to fight if need be. This was poor timing for the guards to have found them.

The door flung open.

There was Remy, glasses slipping down his nose, panting. He fixed his glasses and waved an arm across his body.

“Guys. You’re gonna wanna come with me, pronto,” he pointed at Dad Guy and Teacher Guy, “Emile needs them. You’re good.”

“Awh, but I just made cookies,” Dad Guy said.

“We can bring them the cookies later,” Teacher Guy offered, to which Dad Guy immediately brightened up, clapping.

“You’re right! We’ll bring you cookies later!”

“What happened?” the Playwright asked, fixing his glasses.

Remy usually didn’t run. He liked to take his time, make things easy for himself. What might have caused this sudden conundrum?

“Can’t answer that right now, we’ve gotta get going,” Remy wasn’t even holding a Starbucks cup as he fixed his glasses and motioned to them again, “You really need to see this.”

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do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them · 5 years

Text

On the Other Side / Ch15: Movie Night

Last / Masterpost / Next

Summary: For the past thirteen years, a secretive organization has been raising two groups of superpowered children. Half of them, since their very first memories, have been told they’ll grow up to be brave and strong superheroes; the rest were taught a much harsher view of the world, and groomed to become villains. Neither group knows of the other’s existence. But when a certain trio of heroes-to-be meets two future villains who really just want to be left alone, they all realize how much they haven’t been told.

Warnings: non-graphic violence, bullying, child abuse, sympathetic/good Deceit (Devon) is a main character

A/N: And I said, "I'll start updating regularly again." You know, like a liar. (but actually tho im doing a big bang so it's unlikely i'll be able to even try to update anything else regularly until the end of summer :/)

Read on AO3

Late Saturday morning, Thomas regarded the trunk of his car skeptically. “I really don’t think we needed to buy so many tiny flashlights and screwdrivers.”

“Uhm, I really think we did. Who’s the more experienced thief here, Thomas?” Remy’s unsubtle hand gestures made it clear what the answer was supposed to be.

“Just because you stole gum from a convenience store when you were thirteen—”

“I’m now a master criminal, yes, exactly. I’m glad you understand. The tiny flashlights are super important, trust me.”

Thomas sighed, amused. “If you say so. You gonna help me carry these bags?”

“Nope.”

“Remy—”

“I don’t have time, hon, I gotta go talk to Emile about all this, remember?” He neatly dodged Thomas’s attempt to foist a grocery bag on him. “I know you’re gonna miss me, but I’ll see you later, babe, don’t worry.”

Thomas scoffed and swatted his arm, which backfired a bit in that it nearly made him drop one of his bags. “I’ll live.” His words may have been dismissive, but he was smiling. That smile was still on his face as he made his way into the building and through the hallways to his own room. Most of the snacks were left there to be distributed later. He took the rest, along with the less innocuous items hidden at the bottom of the bags, and went down the hall to Logan, Roman, and Patton’s room.

“Good morning,” he called, after knocking in a pattern they’d agreed on the previous night so they would know it was him. He set the bags down and pressed a hand over his mouth in an effort not to “aww” out loud when he saw the kids.

They were all piled together in the blanket fort, and it looked like they’d been there the whole night. Patton was still asleep, tangled in a blanket, while Logan used him to prop up the book he was explaining to Devon- who, of course, tried to act like he already knew it, but his eyes were wide with interest. Meanwhile, Virgil was still curled up under Patton’s arm, where he’d become trapped at some point in the night, and Roman was telling him some grand story, complete with illustrations and various bits acted out. The smaller boy looked enthralled, if a little wary of all the wild gesturing. Roman paused mid-emphasis when Thomas walked in, just short of smacking Logan in the face, and Devon reached out and slowly pushed his arm back down.

Thomas smiled. “Hey guys, I brought you some stuff.”

“Ooh! What is it? Did you get good snacks?” Roman scrambled out of the fort and almost tripped on Patton, who had started to wake up. He turned over, holding Virgil to his chest like a teddy bear. The latter made a face and squirmed away, causing Patton to finally open his eyes.

“Oh. Sorry,” he laughed. Virgil waved him off with a shrug.

The kids gathered around, and Thomas started to show them what he and Remy had bought. “Of course I got good snacks, who do you think I am? Most of them are staying in my room for now, though, because I know you guys.”

There was a chorus of “aww.”

“Other than that, I got some clean clothes for you two, so you won’t need to keep wearing the same outfits all the time or borrow from the other kids. But I had to guess at your sizes, so if something doesn’t fit, tell me, okay?”

Devon and Virgil nodded shyly and took the clothes, hiding them under blankets in the fort for now. They would try them on once Thomas was gone; changing with him right there would be embarrassing, even if he couldn’t see them behind the blankets that hung down.

“Now… everybody come close, this part is secret. Remember the plan we talked about?” They all nodded. “I know not all of you were sure if you wanted to help, and I’m not trying to push you into it or anything, but I got you all some stuff for it- if anyone decides they don’t want to come, that just means there’s extras for those who do participate.”

“I’m coming!” Roman reminded him, in his version of a whisper.

Thomas laughed. “You made that clear, don’t worry. So, uh, we’ve just got a few little things that might be useful- most of it Remy insisted on, so don’t ask me what the putty is for.”

“Ooh, you were with Remy?” Patton grinned, clearly believing he was being subtle.

“We were just doing boring work things, so shush- and quit doing that thing with your eyebrows at me, Logan.” Thomas blushed, wishing he knew how to stop letting children embarrass him. The shopping trip may have been a boring work thing, but it was very hard to convince himself Remy hadn’t been lowkey flirting with him the entire time nonetheless. “Take the stuff already and leave me alone.”

“How about this,” Roman offered, “we’ll stop if and only if you let us have a movie night! I mean, we really need to- did you know they haven’t seen any Disney movies?!”

Thomas hummed, pretending to think hard about it. “That sounds like a deal I can agree to. I’ll bring my laptop in here for you later, how about that? I know you’d rather use the big TV screen," he said over disappointed protests, "but I really don’t want to risk having Devon and Virgil leave the room when it’s not necessary, alright?”

“I guess,” Roman huffed. “But that means you have to give us more snacks for it!”

“Whatever you say.”

Movie night, naturally, had to wait until it was at least evening- you couldn’t very well have one in the morning. Roman and Patton spent nearly all the preceding time planning it and gushing about how amazing it was going to be, to the point where the other three almost wished they weren’t having it, if only to get some peace and quiet. By the time Thomas came back after dinner to let them borrow his computer, the blankets in the fort had been rearranged countless times, and the kids had a list of everything else they wanted in order to make it absolutely perfect. Thomas went along with some of their requests, if not the ones like ‘a bunch of plastic balls so we can turn the room into a ball pit,’ and they managed to get everything arranged without anyone yelling at each other.

The movie they’d all decided on for tonight was Sleeping Beauty- they should start with a classic, right? Logan was in charge of holding the popcorn, because he was the only one who could be trusted not to spill it or eat it all himself. During the opening credits, Roman bounced in place impatiently, while Patton carefully arranged his stuffed animals so he could hold them all and none would feel left out, ignoring Logan’s reminder that they were inanimate objects and had no feelings to hurt. When he was finally satisfied and looked up, he caught Virgil staring at him, looking conflicted. As soon as their eyes met the smaller boy looked away, blushing and wrapping the too-long sleeves of his jacket around himself. He and Devon had changed into their new clothes by now, but he’d refused to give up that hoodie any longer than was needed to wash it, and even that had been a struggle.

“Hey, Virgil?”

He looked up again, defensive.

“Do you wanna hold one of my toys?”

Virgil shook his head roughly, retreating into his hood. He didn’t need toys, he wasn’t a baby.

“Are you sure? This one’s all the way on the outside, I’m afraid it’s gonna get lonely… would you mind just holding onto it for me?” He held out a black stuffed cat, clearly well-loved by the fact it was missing an eye. Virgil hesitated, but finally took it, setting it down on his lap just so Patton wouldn’t be disappointed. Maybe it wasn’t too bad to hold it for him, as long as he wasn’t actually hugging it or anything.

“Oh- look, look, it’s starting!”

They both turned back to the screen at Roman’s exclamation. The credits had ended, and the fairy-tale book was opening.

“In a far-away land, long ago…”

Roman watched Devon and Virgil, waiting for them to see how great the movie was. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem too impressed. “Don’t you like it?”

Virgil shrugged.

“It’s kinda boring,” Devon admitted. “Like, oh, there’s a king and a queen and a princess and they’re rich and perfect and everyone loves them- who cares?”

“That’s because this is the exposition,” Logan pointed out. “We need to know who they are before we can get to the real beginning of the story, in which a—”

Roman swatted his arm. “Don’t spoil it!”

The movie continued up to the celebration of the baby Aurora’s birth.

“Those gifts suck,” Devon decided. “Why couldn’t they give the princess something cool? They could’ve given her magic powers and instead they just made her really pretty and good at singing.” Virgil nodded in agreement, making a face. They were both startled out of their snark when Maleficent appeared.

“She’s an evil fairy,” Roman stage-whispered.

Logan added on, “It was a great insult for the king and queen to invite everyone in the kingdom and not her, especially when she’s so powerful.”

It was hard to tell if the intended audience for these explanations was actually listening. They were staring at the screen, wide-eyed, as Maleficent turned around and cursed the princess. Roman took this as a good sign that they weren’t bored anymore.

“It’s just so impractical,” complained Logan, watching the pile of spinning wheels burn. “I mean, has the king even considered what this will do to the price of cloth in his kingdom? Everything will have to be imported!"

“Shut up, it’s a fairy tale,” Roman whined.

Devon looked almost impressed. “You know, he has a point.”

“Oh, just watch the movie.”

The three fairies, at least, were not a point of contention. It was generally accepted that, being fairies, they shouldn’t be expected to make sense- although, really, hiding Aurora away from civilization to keep her safe wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Maleficent doesn’t know anything about love, or kindness…”

When said Maleficent came back, it was hard not to notice the younger boys’ nerves. Logan saw Devon go very still and quiet next to him, no longer making fun even though Maleficent’s weird little minions were objectively ridiculous, and Patton could feel Virgil jump with every angry lightning strike, holding the stuffed cat tightly to his chest.

“It’s okay,” Patton told them in a whisper, “she doesn’t win.”

Roman was beginning to despair. “Don’t spoil it, Pat.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “It’s hardly a massive plot twist, Roman. In movies like this, the good guys always win.”

Thankfully, the tension was dispersed by a transition to a much lighter scene. Even Virgil relaxed and giggled at the fairies’ attempt to create a birthday party. Some of the humor was lost on them, however- they didn’t have the faintest idea how to sew or bake, either. What was a “tsp?” The other kids seemed to know. Maybe it should have been obvious what exactly Flora and Fauna were doing wrong.

The scene with Aurora-slash-Briar Rose and Prince Philip… didn’t go over quite so well.

“Oh, oh, he’s back, look! With a horse! Bet you think he’s cool now, right?”

The prince promptly fell off said horse into a stream, and Virgil snickered, raising an eyebrow at Roman. That was about as clear a wordless answer as he could ask for.

And now, the princess was dancing around singing about love?

“Gross,” muttered Devon and Logan in unison.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Logan continued as the two finally danced together. “I suppose I can understand her falling in love so quickly, given that he’s not only a handsome prince, but also the first person she’s ever met besides her guardians.”

“So you admit he’s handsome!”

“But what reason does Philip have for suddenly loving her so much, he’d rather marry her than become king? He’s only known her for a few minutes, and most of that was just listening to her sing without even seeing her.”

“The fairies did give her a magically good voice,” Devon mused. “Maybe she enchanted him to fall in love with her without realizing it.”

Roman reached over and gave them both a light shove. “It’s romantic, quit ruining it!”

“I think it’s cute…”

”Thank you, Patton!”

If Devon was oddly quiet after that, it was because he was grossed out by the sappy love stuff, and then worried about Maleficent’s bird finding the fairies- definitely not anything to do with the song about dreaming of having a friend hitting just slightly close to home. At least the kings were funny.

“Okay, maybe he’s a little cool,” Devon finally mumbled, watching Philip tell his father he was going to marry the random girl he’d just met. That was still a dumb decision, but anyone who could argue with a king and not be at all scared was at least slightly impressive.

Nobody really liked the part where Aurora was all distraught about not being able to meet Philip, so after a bit of sad silence, Roman took the opportunity to check in. “Do you guys like it so far?” he asked, clearly needing the answer to be yes.

Virgil nodded hesitantly, and Devon shrugged: “It’s… not bad. But I still think there should be less stuff about love, and—”

He gasped and cut himself off when Maleficent appeared in the fireplace. Virgil pressed up against him, eyes almost as wide as the hypnotized princess.

“Should’ve known she could just make another spinning wheel…” He tried to sound cool and unimpressed, and not scared. “Stupid king. She’s magic.”

Virgil whispered something in his ear.

“Oh, yeah- it doesn’t even matter, anyway, right? They can just get the prince to come back and kiss her, ‘cause they’re already in love.” His face scrunched up at the thought of kissing, but it was a solution.

However, as everyone else already knew, it wasn’t that easy.

Virgil sat up so quickly when Philip was attacked and captured by Maleficent’s minions that he would have fallen over, had Patton not been there to catch him.

“But did you see how many of ‘em he fought off before they got him?!” Roman punched the blankets around him to demonstrate, making sound effects.

If Roman was still happy, that probably meant Philip would be fine, right? Not that Virgil cared what happened to some stupid prince in a movie. Maleficent could kill him, for all Virgil cared. …But she wouldn’t, right? No, that wouldn’t happen, Patton and Logan had said she didn’t win in the end.

That reasoning didn’t stop both him and Devon from remaining tense for… pretty much the entire rest of the movie. Even if Philip was okay, they really didn’t like seeing him in Maleficent’s dungeon. At least in the Room they didn’t get chained up- Virgil shuddered at the thought.

“See!” Roman exclaimed triumphantly, when the fairies finally arrived to help him get out. “I told you he was cool!”

“I guess,” said Devon, sounding a whole lot more impressed than he wanted to let on. “Fairies are still doing most of the work, though.”

Then came the most exciting part of all: the final battle between Philip and Maleficent. From the moment she landed in front of the castle and turned herself into a dragon until the end of the movie, there were no snarky comments to be heard, and hardly even any disgusted faces made when Aurora was awakened by true love’s kiss.

“See? You didn’t need to be so worried, good prevailed in the end!” It wasn’t until Roman turned to face the two younger boys, and saw them still pale and anxious despite the movie being over, that he realized worrying about the ending may not have been the full issue. “Um… Guys? Is something wrong?”

Virgil and Devon had a brief, tense whispered conversation before Devon spoke up- very quietly, almost like he didn’t want to be heard.

“Are we evil?”

In the moment of stunned silence that followed, Virgil climbed over him, conspicuously placing himself between his friend and Roman. He didn’t seem to realize he was still clutching Patton’s stuffed cat.

“Wh- no! Of course not!” Roman jumped to his feet to emphasize how serious he was, and they both flinched a little. “Why would you think that?!”

Devon waited for Virgil’s cautious nod before saying anything else. “It’s just- Maleficent… she was evil, and she looked like us, kind of, and- and she could shapeshift like me.” He touched the scales on his face and remembered the dragon. “So- it seemed like… the movie was saying those things are evil. I dunno, it’s dumb,” he trailed off, shrinking behind Virgil. “I- I mean, we already knew we’re villains…”

“No, you’re not,” Roman said firmly. He pushed the laptop aside and sat down in front of them, so they couldn’t avoid looking at him. “You’re not anything like her! You’re not evil, you’re nice and you care about people and- and if anything, you’re more like Aurora.”

They both looked up, if only so he could see their skeptical faces. How did that make any sense? She was a princess.

“No, really,” he insisted. “Because you didn’t even do anything wrong, but the teachers and everyone are trying to hurt you because they’re the evil ones, but now you’re gonna get a happy ending! Because I’m the Prince, and I’ll fight them for you.” He stood again and struck a pose to demonstrate.

Devon gave him a soft, genuine smile, then smirked as a thought occurred to him. “Just don’t try to kiss us.”

“Ew, no!”

Everyone laughed. As Roman sat back down, he almost didn’t feel the tug on his shirt. He looked over to see Virgil looking not-quite-at him, chewing on his lip nervously. Once he saw he had Roman’s attention, he took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut and went for it.

“T-thanks. For saying that.”

In an ironic turn of events, Roman was speechless. Virgil’s voice, now that he heard it, was lower than he would have expected from such a tiny kid, and somewhat rough- maybe because he hardly ever talked. And now he was peeking up through his bangs, waiting for Roman’s reaction, looking like he kinda wanted to run away. Oh, shoot, Roman needed to say something back and not make it awkward, didn’t he?

He pushed through his shock to answer, “Of course. It was all true, after all.” Then he nudged Virgil’s hood back slightly in order to mess up his hair, because he couldn’t let things get too mushy. Virgil hissed and smacked his hand away, and the natural order of things was restored.

“But really though, what did you think of the movie?”

Virgil curled up in the blankets. His heart was still beating too fast just from saying four words- if he talked any more, he was afraid he might die from it. But he gave Roman a shy thumbs-up, and from the grin he got in response, that seemed to be good enough.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #my post #my writing #on the other side

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