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mulletpermsicantlookaway · 2 months

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The Jockification of Jeremy, Part 5: The Conclusion

This is the fifth and final part of the story of Jeremy's jockification. For parts 1-4 and the earlier stories on which this was based, see the earlier posts.

I stopped outside Coach Sanders’s office. The door was closed, and I knocked. I heard the coach’s voice telling me to come in, so I opened the door. Coach Sanders was sitting behind his desk, and Coach Halvorson, the wrestling coach, was standing next to it. A young dude I’d never seen before, kind of small but with a wiry build, sat in the chair across from the desk. He was wearing a wrestling singlet. I said, “Sorry, Coach, I didn’t know you were busy. I can come back.”

“No, Jeremy, come in, come in! I was just telling Chase here that you could take him to wrestling practice with you. Coach Halvorson is happy to have him join the team.” The young dude I’d never seen before stood up and faced me with a slow grin. It was Chase, but I honestly didn’t recognize him at first. His thick red hair was styled into some kind of flattop, maybe an inch long and spiky on top, with the back and sides fading to stubble. It looked cool on him, but I’d never noticed before how prominent his ears were. That’s probably why he’d always kept his hair long before. That infectious smile and his big ears gave him a charming, slightly goofy look, not at all intimidating. Where someone like James or Derek had a face that said, “You don’t want to mess with me,” Chase’s face was saying, “Hey, bro, I’ll be your friend if you’ll be mine.” His big, wide open, blue eyes smiled at me under heavy eyebrows, and red stubble spread across his cheeks, chin, and upper lip. With his sharper features, he looked older: definitely a young man despite his small stature. He did seem slightly taller, and while his muscles were still not very developed – for now – he was noticeably toned. The singlet fit him snugly and framed a massive package, the sight of which sent my cock straining in my shorts. A scattering of soft chest hairs peeked tantalizingly above the U-neck of the singlet. He radiated a sexy confidence that seemed easy-going more than cocky. I was blown away. He was unbelievably attractive to me, so much so that I felt a pang of fear: what if this incredibly hot bro didn’t love me anymore?

“Chase, baby, are you feeling better now? I’ve been so worried about you!”

“Bro, I feel fucking awesome now!” he said in a sexy bro voice, deeper than ever. That new grin of his got even wider. “But I’ve missed you, babe. I guess Coach and I got to talking about me going out for wrestling and I lost track of time. I made the team, Jeremy. What do you think?”

“I think you’re unbelievably hot in that singlet is what I think. You’re sure you feel okay?”

A confused look dimmed his smile for a moment. “I told you, bro, I feel great, but, like, today’s a total blank. Did I pass out or something? I don’t even remember coming to school. I guess that’s why I feel a little disoriented or whatever. Babe, could you, like, help me make sure I’ve got all of my assignments and shit – uh, sorry about the language, Coach, don’t know why I’m cursing so much today – so the teachers don’t get on my ass and get me in trouble with the team.”

“Yeah, sure, babe,” I said. “I’ll take care of you.”

Chase and I headed to wrestling practice then. It was surreal. Not only did he seem to know exactly what to do on the mat, he was joking and joshing around with the other bros as if he’d been doing it all his life. After practice, we hit the weight room. Then, once we’d showered, Chase dressed himself in the outfit he found in his locker: compression shorts, loose basketball shorts, T-shirt, sweatshirt, socks, and gym shoes. I’d never seen the clothes before and neither had he. There was no sign of what he’d worn to school, but Chase didn’t question that or seem fazed in the least. Once he was dressed, Chase made a convincing jock, even if everything about him except his package was still on the small side. I had just finished dressing when James lumbered up and looked both of us up and down slowly, his expression unreadable other than the slightest of smirks. Whatever he was thinking, all he said was, “Hey, if you bros want to watch the game tonight, Tyler, Derek, Zach, and a few others are coming over to Steve’s place.”

“Excellent, bro, sounds like a plan,” said Chase. “Catch you there!”

After the game, Zach and I and a few other bros walked him back to my house. I had already set it up that Chase would spend the night at my place. I hadn’t forgotten what James had told me, and I wanted to make sure that Chase adjusted to his new life as easily as possible. After we’d said good-bye to Zach and the others and had gone up to my room, I asked him again how he was feeling.

“Mostly pretty awesome, dude,” he said. “But I still feel a little off, somehow, you know? Not quite myself. And I feel like a total dumbass about today, bro. I mean, obviously I went to school, but I just don’t remember anything before wrestling practice. What the fuck happened to me?”

“Well, babe, you weren’t feeling well when we got to school, so I took you to Coach Sanders’s office to ask him if you could lie down on that couch he’s got, you know, in that little room off the main locker room.”

“Oh, yeah, bro,” he said. “I remember now. I think he put on some video or something. I must have been pretty out of it, because I don’t remember anything after that. Glad I didn’t miss practice, though. That would have been bummer. I don’t want to get kicked off the team. I barely made it as it is, being this small.”

“Yeah, but you’re a strong little dude. You were cleaning up on the mat, bro, and you’ll be buffing out a lot more soon, don’t worry. Besides, you’re fucking hot, and you’re only going to get hotter. And now that I finally have you alone, I know something that’ll make you feel better. At least, it always has before,” I said with a wicked grin as I started to kiss him.

Chase had always been passionate; now he was practically insatiable. After an orgasm so intense I literally couldn’t see, Chase finally came himself and started to calm down. But what he said at this point took me completely by surprise.

“I needed that badly, I think,” he said. “Whoa, that’s different.”

“What’s different, baby?” I asked.

“My brain, bro. That really, like, slowed it down. I don’t feel weird or off now at all. I feel, like, calm. At peace. And –” he said, with that goofy new grin of his spread from big ear to big ear, “I’m a total jock now, bro. Whoa. It’s actually hard to remember that I wasn’t always a jock. Fuck. I had no idea how annoying I used to be. But I was different. Somehow you made me like this, didn’t you, Jeremy? It’s okay to tell me, you know. You’re my best bro, you’re my boyfriend, I love you, and you’re absolutely fucking hot. But I want to know what happened.”

“Chase, babe, are you sure you feel okay?”

“Yeah, Jeremy, I feel awesome. I told you that. Now quit putting me off and tell me what happened before I try to fucking beat the shit out of you. I know you’re bigger than I am and I’d probably lose, but I still want to know.”

“Okay, babe, I’ll try, but you have to realize it’s hard for me to remember everything myself now. You know how you can’t remember much of today? I’ve got the same problem. You see, when I started to change, you know, I didn’t realize what was happening to me. And once I had changed, I was, well, apparently, I was kind of – catching – you know? So, when you and I started to make out, you started to change, too. You have to believe me, Chase, I didn’t know that was going to happen. I loved you then and I love you now, and I never wanted to hurt you. But once I could see that you were changing the way I had, there wasn’t anything I else I could do but try to help you through it, somehow. And today,” I continued, starting to sob, “Today, you needed more help than I could give you, so I took you to the coach, and he took care of you, you know, so that you’d be okay, but I was so worried about you I could hardly make it through the day. And now you’re so hot and sexy, and I’m so happy, you know, for you and for us, but I still feel I did you wrong somehow. And I feel awful about that.”

Chase didn’t say anything, but he hugged me and held me close while I finished crying. Then he put his hand on my tear-streaked face and looked me in the eyes.

“Jeremy, babe, don’t be sad. I’m glad you told me. I love you, too. I know you could never mean to hurt me. I know I’m different now than I was, but it’s okay. I love it, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. And think about it, bro: it’s better for both of us to be jocks, anyway. It was kind of hard on me, I think, being your boyfriend before, when you were a jock and I wasn’t. Especially when we were around the other bros. Now that problem’s solved. But dude, am I going to be a fucking moron now?”

“Not all jocks are dumb, you know, babe. But the answer is I don’t know. You don’t seem any dumber to me. Do you feel dumber?”

“I don’t know yet,” Chase sighed. “Maybe not, but here’s the deal: if I do turn out dumb, it serves me right for thinking all jocks are dumb in the first place. Anyway, it’ll be okay. I’m happy. That’s what counts.”

“Honestly, babe, I don’t think you could be too dumb if you can still talk like that. But if you do turn out to be a moron, bro, you’ll be the sexiest moron at school. And I’ll use every brain cell I’ve got left to help you with your homework, I promise.”

“Talk about the blind leading the blind, bro,” he said, that grin of his wider than ever. “Sorry, bro, I’m just pulling your chain. It would be a fucking honor to be helped by the sexiest dumb jock at school, even if you give me all the wrong answers. But enough of that shit. Ready for another round, sexy?”

“Geez, Chase, I’m still worn out from the last one. But if you insist.”

“Yeah, bro, we’ve got to work on your endurance training. We’re going to be doing a lot more of this, just so you know.”

“I guess I’ll just have to get in better shape, then, Coach. Where do you want me?”

“Right where you are will do just fine,” Chase said. “Now drop and give me, well, let’s just say keep going until I tell you to stop. If I tell you to stop.”

The next day began the best part of my life so far. Chase and I became the second out gay jock couple, and every day we continued to grow stronger, both physically and in our love for each other. Chase still isn’t very tall; about a month after his transformation, he stood about 5’9”, just a bit shorter than James, but he’s turning into one sexy hunk of muscle. As for me, I’ve topped out for now at about 6’3”, an inch taller than Steve, but not as tall as some of the other bros on the basketball team. I couldn’t imagine my life any better: I had my bros, workouts, basketball, wrestling, and, best of all, the sexiest boyfriend I could imagine. I loved Chase’s sexy new body. I loved his equally sexy new personality, too, although I’ll admit it took some getting used to. Chase and I had been best friends since we were kids, but honestly, the old Chase could be a bit of a jerk, and he didn’t have many friends. Well, whatever Coach did for him (or to him), he’s an absolute sweetheart now. And he's everyone’s friend, and everyone loves him, even the nerds and the geeks.

James did ask Chase if he remembered anything of Coach’s video, but Chase barely remembers that there was a video, so James’s research won’t get any help there. It’s too bad. I’d like us to help James. Knowing him a little better now, I know he’s not really as mean as he looks; it’s hard for a hulking football jock like him not to look intimidating. But he clearly likes to be intimidating. He could soften his look a little if he wanted to, but he keeps that thick, dark hair of his buzzed so short that he’s practically bald. He must cut it himself, unless Steve does it, or he’d be at the barber’s every week. And his personality is as intimidating as his looks. He can sound like a total bro one moment and like a teacher the next, although he almost never shows his smart side in front of the other bros. I’m always surprised that Tyler’s his best friend, since Tyler seems like a more typical jock, and a little dense to boot. I guess they both used to be pretty different, but I don’t know much about that. None of the bros who used to be different want to talk about it. I get that; I don’t want to talk about myself, either, so I’d be the last dude to go to James and say, “Hey, bro, so what were you and Tyler like when you used to be nerds?” It’s so not going to happen. I can just imagine the look James would give me. See, while all of the bros can do some version of the one-eyebrow-raised, cocky jock smirk and the shit-eating grin, James can also fix you with an utterly dead stare that makes you want to back up in a hurry. He can smile, and he’s cute when he does, but about the only time you see him smile is when he’s with Steve. Then it totally lights up his face. He and Steve clearly love each other ton; it’s obvious when you see them together.

Chase and I love each other every bit as much, which is amazing considering how much we’ve both changed. I’ll be honest, Chase does seem a bit dumber than he was before, but he’s so sweet, and if he messes up in class, he’s so cool about it that people laugh with him rather than at him. I think he could do better, but he doesn’t seem to want to. One time when I asked him about missing some obvious question in class, he said, “Look, bro. I don’t remember too much about what I was like before, and I don’t like to, because I know I didn’t like myself much. I like who I am now a ton better. I probably could work a little harder, but I don’t want to, well, be a jerk again. I’m like, atoning, you know? If people want to think I’m a dumbass, what I think is that I was more of a dumbass when I acted smarter, if you follow me. Besides, our bro James loves to help me with my homework. Gives him some exercise for that big brain of his. I’m doing both of us a favor; he always holds back in front of the other bros, so he doesn’t come off like a know-it-all. Don’t worry about it, babe. Everything’s fine.”

“Knowing you, babe,” I said, “I hope you don’t, like, pretend not to get something just to make James work harder.”

“Of course I do, bro! He needs the conditioning. How’s he going to get better at tutoring dumbasses if I don’t train him for it?”

“Have I told you today how fucking cute you are?”

“Maybe,” Chase said. “I don’t remember. But you can tell me again.”

“Okay, you are too fucking cute! Just don’t let James figure out what you’re doing.”

“Come on, bro! He knows exactly what I’m doing. It’s our thing. Someone’s got to mess with that boy. He’s so big no one else dares to. The only bros that could stand up to him are Derek and Tyler, and they’re not going to do it, but you know me, right? Someone’s got to try.”

“You are something else, babe. Truly something else.”

“Hey, Jeremy, I just think that life’s fun, and everyone should be enjoying it.”

“Well put, babe. No wonder you’re so happy.”

“By the way, babe,” Chase said. “You ever notice that fancy chess set Steve’s got in his bedroom?”

“Yeah, but what were you doing in his bedroom?”

“I was doing homework, bro. That’s where James helps me with my homework. There’s more room there than at his place. Anyway, I saw the set and thought I’d challenge Steve to a game.”

“Seriously? What’d Steve say?”

“He kind of stared at me and said, ‘Bro, I don’t know about that. I really don’t do any of that nerd shit anymore. I mean, dude, I haven’t fucking played chess since…’

“And then James broke in and said, ‘Since you joined the football team, you mean. You know, bros, it’d be an interesting experiment. Go ahead, Steve-o. Try it for me. Let’s see what happens.’”

“And what happened?”

“So, Steve grabbed the set and mumbled something about only doing it because James wanted him to. And then he stood there for a minute looking puzzled before he set up the board, and we started playing.”

“And then?”

“Oh, he creamed me, babe. I always did stink at chess. But I wish you could have seen it: Steve sitting there playing chess in a backwards baseball cap, basketball shorts, and a tank top showing all his muscles, bouncing one hairy leg up and down the whole time with his size 15 feet. We should do that at school sometime. It’d blow the nerds’ minds. I don’t know if it’ll happen, though.”

“Why, babe?”

“Well, he seemed restless, and when we finished the game, James asked him what it was like, and Steve said, ‘It’s weird, Jimbo. It feels super strange. I still know how to play and all, and it was okay, but it just seems boring. It was really hard to sit still and remember what I was doing.’

“And James stood there with one of those blank looks he gets, making some notes, and then he said something like ‘Thanks for trying for me, Steve-o. I can’t believe I never asked, but why’d you keep the set?’

“And Steve said, ‘Mom and Dad gave it to me, bro. That’s one reason. But the real reason is the same reason you keep your old comic books.’

“And James said, ‘I get it, Steve-o. They bore me, too, but I can’t get rid of them. Not yet.’”

“Wow, babe,” I said, “There is a lot going on with those two, isn’t there?”

“They are intense, bro!” Chase said. “And they’re a little scary. But the pet names, that’s just fucking cute and still totally dudebro. And they are so completely into each other, just as much as you and I are. Makes me wonder, babe, speaking of Steve’s bedroom, how you ever got them to make out with you. They don’t seem like the type to want a three-way.”

“What the fuck?” My mouth gaped open in shock. “Did James and Steve tell you about that?”

“No, babe. They never said a word. Those two know how to keep secrets, unlike you.” Chase was grinning from big ear to big ear. “I knew the whole time, you lunkhead, from the beginning! After all, babe, isn’t that how this whole story started?”

I sat down, absolutely flabbergasted. “You knew the whole time?”

“Honestly, babe, for someone who’s not all that dumb you can be pretty clueless. I had a huge crush on you, but you kept drooling over the jocks. It hurt, Jeremy. I can’t say it didn’t. But that’s all over now, babe, and if you’re still feeling guilty, you know, over making out with them, don’t be, okay.”

“Chase, baby, I am so, so sorry! Everything that happened is totally my fault. I’ve really been a jerk, haven’t I?”

“Jeremy, it was not totally your fault. Let it go. Sure, you were thinking with your dong, dude, but so was I. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

“But you had to go through, well, you know, everything, just because of me!”

“Jeremy, babe, there you’re wrong. Completely. I chose to go through everything because of you.”

Chase sat down beside me, still smiling, looking me right in the eyes. My mouth was open so wide my jaw should have been sitting on the floor. I said, “You mean, you knew everything – all along?”

“Oh, bro, not exactly that way, no. At first, I thought you were just going through a phase or something, just trying to be more like Steve and James because you were attracted to them. Then you started really changing, and suddenly you were a jock, like overnight. That’s when I knew something was up. But you’d turned into your own wet dream, and how could I compete with that? So yeah, bro, I avoided you for a while. But when you told me you loved me, I was so happy, because you were all I ever wanted. But I was unhappy, too, babe, because I knew it was going to be hard if I wasn’t a jock, too. I knew right then that I was going to have to join you. And that was hard, too, babe.”

“Then you knew, like, when we made out the first time?”

“Well, bro, I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened to you, but I knew you’d changed after being with Steve and James. I was absolutely going to make out with you no matter what, so I figured I would see if I started noticing any changes afterwards. If not, I was going to go to Steve and James and beg them to help me. But it was obvious the next day that I was already starting to change. I could feel it. But of course, I wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen, and I won’t say it was easy, babe, but I was beyond happy, because I knew I was turning into your wet dream at last.”

“Oh, babe, I just – I can’t believe you did all that just for me.”

“Thanks, babe. It means a ton. And I did do it for you, but I did it for me, too. I got what I wanted, after all: you.”

“And you’re still happy?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely! I love being a jock! It’s funny, bro, I wanted to be a jock just to turn you on, but I never dreamed I’d actually like it. What a dumbass I was! I thought, ‘It’ll be okay as long as Jeremy loves me.’ It’s so much better than okay, dude. You should have told me. And what’s even funnier is that I’m a much better person. I thought I’d turn into some dumb brute, but I’m actually popular. People fucking like me, dude! And what’s more important, I like them, and I like myself, too. And, let’s face it, bro, I was kind of mean little bitch before. So, Jeremy, my love, if you are still feeling sorry for yourself or bad for me, don’t. Just don’t. You have nothing to regret, and I certainly don’t, either. I can’t imagine my life being any better.”

It almost goes without saying, bros, but Chase and I had an amazing marathon make-out session after that conversation. Until then, I hadn’t realized how much my guilt at not being honest with Chase had been hanging over our relationship and preventing me from fully enjoying my new life. And that brings us almost to the end of my story, at least for now. There’s just one odd thing I should report. Remember that nerd Ben from my European History class? I’d kind of forgotten about him and how he was a jerk to me in class the day I’d brought Chase to Coach Sanders. I had more important stuff to think about than Ben; I’d kind of forgotten about him entirely. But today in class, I noticed him acting really strange. For one, he was way quieter than usual, hardly saying a word. I thought at first he was just avoiding me, which he had good reason to do, but then I noticed he was avoiding everyone, even that friend of his, Devin or whatever his name is. Devin kept asking him what was wrong, but Ben wasn’t telling him. And clearly something was wrong. He looked pale and sweaty, and his eyes looked hollow, too, as if he hadn’t slept much. The other weird thing is that he was wearing sweatpants to school, which I’d never seen him do before. Wherever he got them from, they could use a good wash, because they’re kind of giving off a funky locker-room reek. Obviously, I’m pretty used to jock smell, so this has got to be pretty strong for me to notice it, right? Maybe he’s got a jock brother away at college and borrowed his unwashed sweatpants for some reason. But that’s just strange, and it doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t look comfortable walking in them, either; he’s doing this weird kind of shuffle and sway that looks super awkward. I have no idea what could be going on, but the whole thing reminded me that Derek had said something that day about talking to the coach about Ben. Well, whatever Derek had in mind, I’m going to tell him to lay off. The way that Ben dude is moping around, something major is going on in his life. He clearly doesn’t need any more stress on my account. I mean, I know he’s a nerd, but now I kind of feel sorry for the little bro.

#jockification #nerd to jock #jock transformation #jock tf #mental change #personality change

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months

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Hero

found u on AO3 and loved u immediately, your writing style is incredible and i’ve binged all your stories :) crack request popped into my mind the other day and i thought i’d share—> the pinocchio phenomenon about “my nose will grow” (i’m sure you’re familiar) except for its the sides (prob logan bc experiment) trying it on janus- “janus will be summoned” or something to that effect idk ily please never stop writing <3 – bumblebea2712

Okay, so I've been thinking about something for a while. In your fic, Silver Box, where Roman has that box labeled 'Ego' with all the positive reinforcement in it? What if one of the things that gets whispered from it is when c!Thomas told Roman "you're my hero"? Like, especially with the angst from POF/SvS Redux. Thinking about how Roman misinterpret Janus' nod as 'Thomas is lying' when he actually meant that Thomas was still the truth when calling Roman his hero again. I wanna see Janus trying to correct him and be like "that nod meant he was telling the truth, he still thinks of you as his hero, he still cares about you", etc. Just some Roman, Janus, and c!Thomas angst all bundled up with hurt/comfort. I have THOUGHTS, and so I wanted to share :3 – oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

If you're up to requests rn, could we have a Sanders Sides fic where Thomas himself is actually present maybe? – anon

Hey, would you be interested in perhaps writing a story where Logan assumes Roman is stupid because he isn’t articulate, and one day Roman has enough and is trying so hard to explain to Logan why he’s wrong but he doesn’t know the right way to phrase things so he just ends up getting more and more upset while Logan isn’t listening? – anon

Hey! I love your work (I’m definitely a Roman angst enjoyer 😅, but all of it’s good!!). If you’re open to requests, I was thinking about the control that Patton has over Roman because like,, a prince fights for honor. For good. And who decides what those concepts mean? Patton does. In some way, he controls Roman’s narrative. Anyways, h/c with Roman and potentially protective Remus. Thank you for considering!! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self esteem issues, self doubt, slightly unsympathetic logan and patton

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5984

"What honor is there that I can find now? What—how do I know what is right anymore? I've been behind a sword for so long, I fear…I fear I'm forgetting who I am without it." His breath comes out shakier. "And I fear…if I were to ever try to explain this to someone who wasn't you, my words would come out so clumsy they would impale me on their rusted edges." "There is nothing wrong with the way you speak, Roman. Nothing at all." "If only it were something that would be listened to."

Thomas sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Okay, I think—is that all we're gonna be able to get done today?"

"I have no qualms about continuing, but I do not think it would be productive."

"I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you go around in circles again and again," Virgil groans, long ago giving up the pretense of standing and paying attention, his forehead pressed against the stairs railing, "just call it here and let us go."

"Now, kiddo, that's not a very sporting attitude!" Patton puts his hands on his hips. "If Thomas thinks we're all involved in this discussion, then there's no point if trying to discount your own importance."

"I'm not discounting my own importance, I'm questioning my relevance." He glares through a gap in the bars at Logan. "This whole thing isn't gonna make me think it's not worth being cautious about, no matter how much L tries to talk me out of it. I'm Anxiety. Literally it's my job to be irrational sometimes. By definition—"

"But we've previously established that you do have some semblance of logical reasoning at points, and this could very well be one of those points—"

"Okay." Thomas cuts Logan off with a wave of his hand. "I think—yeah, I think we're done. I'm sorry, Logan, but I don't—we're kind of at an impasse."

"Here's an idea." Virgil's hand flops lazily up in a parody of raising his hand. "Why don't we ask someone whose literal job it is to come up with ideas?"

Logan's nose wrinkles momentarily and he sighs. "I do not see the value in asking either Roman or Remus to weigh in on this discussion when it has nothing to do with them."

"Uh-huh, so you wanna try to do the create-an-idea thing without the Sides whose job it is to do that?"

"We are all capable of coming up with ideas, Virgil, Roman and Remus simply represent Thomas's Creativity."

"Oh, yeah?" Virgil heaves himself up onto an elbow. "When's the last time you came up with an idea for an experiment on your own?"

"Preposterous. I'm perfectly capable of coming up with my own experiments."

"Do it. Right now."

"We are in the middle of discussing—"

"No, no," Thomas says, "please, I could use a break from thinking about this."

Logan's mouth works for a second. "Very well. Let's see…ah. A spin on the Pinocchio paradox."

"The what?"

"The Pinocchio paradox. A simple thought experiment on what would happen if the character, Pinocchio, uttered the words: 'My nose will grow now.' An interesting thought, given that—"

"That his nose grows when he lies and if it does grow then he told the truth which means it wouldn't grow which means he lies, sure, sure, sure, what does that have to do with anything?"

Logan adjusts his ties and raises a finger. "Janus will now appear."

Everyone in the room pauses, listening for the telltale whoosh of a Side appearing. Which it does, a few seconds later, and Logan gets cuffed on the shoulder.

"What was that for?"

"I'm not an experiment," Janus says, a bit too amused to be an indictment, "and am perfectly capable of showing up to slap you for being an idiot."

"See? Experiment successful."

"That's not—okay." Thomas pinches the bridge of his nose. "Janus, while you're here, you might as well weigh in on this."

'"Being arbitrarily asked to choose a side with little to no context as to what the options are? My favorite." He claps his hands a few times. "What am I choosing between?"

"Would it be better if I responded to this email now, saying that I'm not available for a call for the rest of the day, or should I wait and just call back tomorrow when I am free?"

"Ooh, what an interesting dilemma. How badly will your life be impacted by a negative outcome to this call?"

"Don't fucking start with me, J," Virgil warns, studiously ignoring Patton's language, "I know you've been listening this whole time."

"Oh, you're no fun." Virgil tips him a lazy two-fingered salute and he sighs. "Very well. Thomas, do you want to respond to this now?"

Thomas frowns. "What? Isn't that what you all are here for?"

"We can manifest different parts of you trying to figure something out, but that doesn't mean you don't have your own thoughts about it that aren't us. What do you want to do?"

"This line of questioning is pointless. Thomas has established that he doesn't know what he wants and he's asked us—well, I suppose that now includes you—what to do."

Janus slides his gaze to Logan, eyes narrowing slightly. "That's awfully presumptuous of you, Logan."

"Thomas? Is that an inaccurate conclusion?"

"…I mean, not really."

Logan gestures at him. "See? There you are. Now, either we are agreeing to call the meeting here and simply wait until tomorrow, or we are going to rehash the same arguments from the past hour and quite frankly, I think there is a better use of our time."

"Why are the twins not here?"

"Excuse me?"

"The twins. The ones who are good at coming up with solutions to problems." Janus glances around. "They seem conspicuously absent from this meeting where we are trying to come up with a solution to something."

"That's what I was saying."

Logan sighs, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Alright, if you insist. I do not see what sort of valuable insight they will be able to give us, but if you all want to hear what they have to say, then I suppose I cannot object."

Thomas smiles and reaches out to summon Creativity. A moment later, Roman appears in front of the TV, wincing.

"Thomas?"

"Hey, Roman, we, uh, we were hoping you could help us out."

Roman rubs the back of his neck, glancing around the room. "Uh, sure. What, uh, what with?"

"Thomas is struggling to choose between responding to a missed phone call and voicemail with either an email today apologizing and explaining his availability tomorrow, or simply calling back tomorrow when he is immediately available," Logan says smoothly. "Which option do you think is preferable?"

Roman just blinks at him for a long second. When Logan raises his eyebrows expectantly, his shoulders hunch a little and he curls in on himself. "I, um, I don't know."

"Just as I suspected. Very well, thank you Roman, you may go."

"Wait, what?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Virgil says, sitting up, "that's not fair, he's been here, what, all of two seconds?"

"Yes, and has just admitted that he doesn't have an answer to us, which is not a productive way to continue this conversation, therefore he can go."

"Wait, Logan—" Thomas holds his hand out, silently asking Roman to stay, "can't we just—how's he gonna be able to actually give his opinion if he doesn't have time to make one?"

"Roman, are the facts I've given to you unclear?"

"Huh? N-no—"

"Do you believe you have a firm enough grasp of the situation to form a conclusion?"

"I mean, yeah, I get it, but—"

"And you still don't know what option you prefer?"

Roman's quiet for a moment, his outstretched hand slowly returning to his side. "…no."

Logan nods. "Settled, then."

"Come on, Logan," Janus says, frowning a little now, "just because you didn't want him here doesn't mean you can throw him away as soon as he's said one thing that vaguely aligns with what you wanted."

"First off, that's an incredible level of irony coming from you—" both Janus and Roman flinch— "and secondly, Roman, would you like to be part of this meeting?"

They all turn to look at Roman, who shuffles under their gazes. He keeps flicking his eyes up to Thomas, then to Patton, then to Janus, before staring back down at his hands. The buzzing of the fridge becomes oppressive. He winces and rubs the back of his neck again.

"Roman?"

"…not really."

"Then it's settled, then. Thank you for your input."

Roman glances once more at Thomas with something almost like longing before he sinks out again. Virgil, who'd been watching him closely, turns to frown at Logan. Logan adjusts his tie.

"If that's all, then, Thomas, would you still like to end the meeting here?"

"Yeah, let's…let's call it."

"Very well. I shall be available if you need me further." He sinks out.

Patton sinks out next, giving Thomas a quick thumbs-up before disappearing. Janus exchanges a brief look with Virgil before he's vanishing too, leaving just the two of them alone in the living room. Thomas puts his hands on his hips, staring at the spot where Roman was.

"So that was weird, right?"

"Yeah." Virgil grunts as he sits up, hands balled up in the pocket of his hoodie. "That…I've never seen them…do that before."

"Did Roman and Logan have a fight or something?"

"I don't think so? I mean, I've seen them argue about stuff, but they always do that and it didn't seem like it was any more, like, intense than usual, so I don't…I don't know why that happened." He shuffles. "I've also never seen Logan be that…short with Roman before."

"Yeah, like, he was here for literally, like—"

"Like two seconds—"

"And then Logan was telling him to go again. And did you notice how he kept looking—"

"At you?"

"At me, yeah, did—did I do something?"

"What? Shit, no, Thomas, I don't think that's it. I think—" he sighs— "look, he's not gonna be happy I'm telling you this, but Princey's been going through some stuff lately and I'm not sure exactly what it is but I know it's been weighing on him a lot."

Thomas frowns. "How so?"

"Well, let me put it this way: have you been daydreaming a lot more lately?"

He thinks. "Uh, yeah, I mean, I guess so, but I haven't been doing that much recently, which kind of makes sense, I guess?"

"Yeah, well, that's Princey in the Imagination." Thomas nods and Virgil gives him a pointed look. "I'm telling you that Princey's been going into the Imagination more."

"Yeah, that's—isn't that what he does?"

Virgil scrubs a hand over his face. "Yeah, it is, but not like this. Normally when he goes in, he's doing it to come up with ideas or work something out, or…something. But recently…"

"But recently that doesn't feel like what he's doing," Thomas finishes, chewing on his lip, "yeah, actually, now that you mention it, it does kind of feel…different. Like—like they're…"

"Comfort," Virgil finishes quietly when he can't quite put his finger on it, "it feels like a comfort."

"Roman's going into the Imagination to comfort himself?" Virgil shrugs. "Why?"

"Like I said, he's going through some stuff. It's not—I'm not all up on how the Imagination translates to whatever your daydreams end up being, but I don't think—Princey's not even telling us what he gets up to in there."

Thomas sucks in a breath. If there's one thing he's learned after listening to them talk about whatever goes on in the Mindscape when they're not with him, it's that Roman loves to regale them with tales of his adventures in the Imagination, even if it comes at the expense of whatever else they're doing. To hear that Roman's been going off more than usual and he isn't telling them about it? Worrying, to say the least.

"When did this start?"

Virgil blows out a breath. "After the wedding."

"Shit, that's…probably not good."

"Yeah."

They both stare at the black TV. A bit of dust gets caught in a gust from the vent and sticks to the corner.

"…he's my hero," Thomas says quietly.

"Huh?"

"He's my hero. Maybe he's…maybe he's going to the Imagination to do the things heroes don't get to do."

"Okay, you gotta break that down for me a little more."

"The heroes don't get to be vulnerable. They don't get to…to actually stop and rest, not really. They have to keep going, they have to…" Thomas swallows. When did this lump in his throat get here? "They're not—oh, god, am I gonna cry?"

"Shit, shit, shit, uh—do you want me to get Patton back?"

"N-no, no, don't—" for some reason the thought of Patton reappearing sends a bolt of fear straight through his chest and he knows Virgil feels it too, shooting to his feet and watching as Thomas stumbles back to the couch— "I—oh, god."

"Hey, hey, hey, buddy," Virgil says, voice soft and low as Thomas buries his face in his hands, "take it easy, okay? You're okay, you're safe in the house, everything's okay. I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Just a nice, deep breath, you're okay, that's it, good, now let it out…nice, do it again…"

Virgil helps talk him slowly through the well of emotion suddenly bubbling just at the base of his throat, the breaths coming out shaky but steady. Absentmindedly, he puts a hand to his chest and starts rubbing in slow, firm circles. The pressure does something to the frantic and flighty part of him, helping to soothe him back from whatever brink he hadn't realized he'd walked to.

"Hey," Virgil calls a few minutes later, "you with me again?"

"Yeah, I think so." He takes a couple more seconds just to breathe it out. "Roman's—Roman's my hero, and I don't know if he knows that I…that I still want to listen to him."

"What do you mean?"

"Afterwards. When I—when we were all—when the stuff happened. He said that he thought he was my hero and I told him he was and then he…"

"Freaked," Virgil finishes when he can't, "yeah, I remember."

"I don't…I don't know why that made him so upset."

"Well, hey," he says when that lump starts to come back to his throat, "let's not have you worry about that right now, okay? You—let's go do something else that'll get your mind off of it. Go rewatch the Office bloopers again, that always works."

"Will you—can you keep an eye on him for me?"

"Yeah, Thomas, I can do that. Now c'mon, those bloopers aren't going to rewatch themselves."

***

Roman walks slowly through the woods as the fireflies twinkle around him. He lifts a hand to push aside a branch, stepping through the shadows to emerge onto the thin dirt path that winds through the base of the trees. As the darkness falls, the thin blue lines grow deeper, darker, blending together to weave across the grass as little critters scurry back and forth. The whistle of the wind accompanies the crunch of his footsteps as he makes his way toward the cabin.

Movement from around the side and the man emerges, wiping dirt from his hands with a rag. He looks up and smiles as Roman approaches.

"Roman," he greets, with his voice warm, "how good it is to see you."

"I see I'm a bit too late to help with the chores." He nods to the rag. "I don't mean to impose on you."

"Nonsense, old friend, nothing you do could possibly be an imposition. As it happens, I have a stew on that I won't be able to finish by myself and it would be a great favor to me if you were to help me."

Roman chuckles. "How could I refuse?"

The man holds a hand out to him as he nears, settling it on the curve of Roman's neck and pulling him close for a brief hug of sorts. Roman turns his cheek to rest against the curve of his jaw, breathing out shakily. The man lets out a comforting noise and his fingers card through the delicate hairs at the base of his head.

"Come inside, dear friend, let the fire warm you."

"The night is warm already."

"It is young still, and will grow cold," he says as he begins to lead them up the stairs, "and you look to be the type of cold that does not thaw even in the hottest sun."

"I worry for the state of the realm sometimes, if I am truly so transparent."

"Only to me, dear friend, and only because you have seen fit to allow yourself to be so with me." He's coaxed inside a modest cabin, sat at a simple hewn table as a rich smell fills the room. He closes his eyes to breathe it in, opening them again when the low thud of a bowl and tankard draws his attention. "Eat, please. You know I can't bear a less-than-full stomach under my roof."

"You're too kind to me."

"Nonsense." The hand fits itself around his head once more. "You are worth being kind to, and even more worth allowing me to care for you. Now, come on."

The stew is simple, hearty, and as filling as he could ever want. Under the table, their legs press together, boots against boots, knee against knee. The fire crackles in the hearth as the last of the light fades from outside. He can feel his shoulders beginning to relax, the line of his body growing looser, more languid.

When they've both eaten their fill and the dishes have been set away to deal with later, he sits on the floor near the hearth and stares into the flames. A warm hand lands on his shoulder and brings his head to rest against another, light touch trailing over the bare skin under his sleeve.

"What troubles you tonight, dear friend?"

"I don't want to impose—"

"Shh, none of that now. It's an honor to be troubled by your worries."

He turns his head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of clean sweat, of spiced apple, of wood smoke. "I struggle to remember what it is I fight for."

Gentle nails along his scalp. "How so?"

"There is nothing wrong with the way you speak, Roman. Nothing at all."

"If only it were something that would be listened to."

"Hey." He's nudged until he can look up at the man's face. "You once told me that all you wanted to fight for was this. For the chance for one to sit, in the peace and safety, with those they care for, and have that be alright. Is this still true?"

"Yes. But I don't—I no longer know how to do that."

The man goes quiet, contemplative, running his fingers gently over the edge of Roman's face. The touch coaxes a lump to his throat, a tear to his eye, and the man lets out another comforting noise, pulling him closer.

"Rest for the night, please, dear friend. My bed is warm, my touch willing. You fear losing who you are without your sword? Put it down for the night, stay. Remind yourself of how to enjoy the thing you fight for."

"If only I could be as persuasive as you," he mumbles, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the touch, "then I might never need a sword again."

He chuckles. "Well, I don't know if I can do all that much, but I have learned how to persuade you, my dear, and that will serve me well enough."

***

"Roman?"

Roman turns, spotting Janus as he trudges back from the Imagination. "What're you doing awake?"

"I was waiting for you."

He winces. "Sorry, I, um, did we have something planned?"

"What? No, no, sweetie, nothing like that, I only—I wanted to talk to you for a moment."

A chill works its way up Roman's spine and he suppresses a shudder, walking slowly to his room and opening the door. Janus follows him in, carefully closing it behind them and waiting while Roman tucks something into a drawer on his desk and sitting down.

"What's up?"

"Are you…are you okay?"

He flinches slightly. "Why, um, why?"

Janus looks pained. He glances around and seemingly comes to a decision before sinking down to the floor, crossing his legs and sighing. "You…seemed very upset after earlier, and I wanted to come and ask you about it."

"Oh, no, I'm fine, I wasn't—Logan was right, I wasn't going to be useful in that conversation."

"The one you were in for all of three seconds before you were being shunted out of it again?"

Roman narrows his eyes. "You know, it is kind of ironic that you of all people are worrying about that right now."

Janus barely has time to process how he feels about that sentence before Roman's eyes are widening and he's leaning back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, that came out really rude, I didn't mean that."

"You did, and that's okay. No, no—really, it is okay, Roman, you don't have to pretend like I didn't hurt you—that I'm not hurting you when I do things like that. No, no—" he stands as Roman covers his face with his hands— "please, sweetie, just—just listen to me for a second, okay?"

Roman nods, his face still hidden. Janus hesitates for a moment before gloved hands come down to rest on his shoulders. He leans down and carefully, carefully presses his chin to the top of Roman's head. Roman shudders a little under the contact but stays still.

"You've been distant lately," Janus whispers, as though afraid of breaking the silence, "and that's not a bad thing, sweetie, but it's…it seems like it's hurting you. And I'm worried because Thomas isn't—I don't know what Thomas would do without you."

Roman stiffens and immediately he knows it was the wrong thing to say. "I won't let Thomas down again, I know what I'm doing. I'm just—I'm sorry I haven't been very present lately, but I'm—"

"No, no, that's not what I meant—wait, what do you mean, 'again?'"

Roman hunches his shoulders. "I know I'm not Thomas's hero anymore, okay? You don't need to keep acting like I'm—"

"Wait, wait, sweetie." Janus crouches down, cupping Roman's face in his hands. "What do you mean, you're not Thomas's hero anymore?"

"That's what you said! After the wedding, when he said—when I said—and you nodded! Like it was a lie!" He jerks away. "We don't need to pretend that didn't happen, okay? I remember, it's not like I could forget something like that."

"No, no, Roman—no, that's not what I meant, I didn't—it wasn't a lie."

Roman goes still. He stares at Janus for a long moment, long enough for a bit of a smile to come to his face, like Roman's actually listening to him. Then Roman's expression darkens and the voice that comes out of him is darker and more venomous than anything Janus has ever heard.

"Do not lie to me."

"R-Roman—"

"No." Roman pulls away, standing up, towering over him. "You will not lie to me. Not about that, not about anything like that. Use me as your puppet all you want, everyone knows I can't stop you, but I won't let you lie to me about this. Ever."

He's already fumbling to get his gloves off, surging up and grabbing Roman in a tight hug, so close he couldn't hope to get an inch of distance between them. "I'm not lying," he hisses, almost into Roman's nose, "I'm not lying about this, Roman, I'm not. Thomas wasn't lying. You're his hero. You still are."

"Stop it—"

"My gloves are off! I can't lie with my gloves off, Thomas loves you—you're his hero—"

"Stop it!" The words leave Roman in a breathless cry and Janus is left struggling to heft his weight as his knees buckle. "Stop it, stop it—stop it, it's not true, it can't be true, it's a lie—it—it has to be—"

"Why does it have to be, sweetie?" They're back on the floor, Janus smoothing hair back from Roman's flushed face, awkwardly holding him in his lap. "Why did it have to be a lie?"

"Because—because—" he sniffles— "nothing makes sense anymore. I don't—I can't—I can't do anything."

He frowns. "What do you mean you can't do anything?"

Hands come up to circle his wrists, not to push him away, just to have somewhere else to hold onto. "Princes fight for honor, for what's good. I can't—I can't fight anymore."

Not much can break Janus's heart like hearing Roman admit something like that, fewer things still can threaten tears at the corners of his eyes like the ones badly concealed in Roman's voice. "What do you mean, sweetie? Why can't you fight anymore?"

"I don't know anything! I don't know what's good, what's honorable, what's—what's right, I can't…I'm wrong, Janus, I'm just wrong and I don't—I don't know how to be right again."

"Shh, shh, shh, easy, now, sweetie, shh…" Janus hauls him closer, pressing his mouth to his flushed cheek, still murmuring comfort. "Shh…that's it, just stay here with me a moment, okay?"

"J-Janus—"

"I'm here, sweetie, I'm right here."

Roman's stifled sobs land like mines in the room, creating a mess around them as he curls up tighter, tighter still. The door to the Imagination glistens softly and he can almost hear the distant crackle of a fireplace and that alone sends him further into the fit. Janus's hands remain gentle, holding him close, but everything keeps spinning and nothing, nothing makes sense except the hurt in his chest.

He's going to cry himself to sleep again, he realizes faintly as exhaustion starts to seep through him, but then Janus is kissing his forehead again and gently shaking him awake.

"Sweetie, listen to me: no one knows what you fight for better than you, okay? You're Thomas's Hopes and Dreams, his hero—" Roman whimpers— "you do know what's right."

"N-no, I don't."

"Then who does know?"

"Patton."

Janus's blood runs cold. "Patton? Why Patton?"

"Patton's the Heart, he's M—he's Morality. He knows—he decides. I'm—I just follow." He sniffles. "And Logan—Logan, he's right, I don't—I'm so stupid—"

"That's enough, now." He runs a hand through his hair again. "That's enough, sweetie. You're not stupid. No—shh, shh, you're not. You know you're not."

"I am. I can't—I can't talk right and I don't know what I'm doing and—an' I'm just gonna mess everything up again."

Janus closes his eyes, bowing his head and taking a deep breath of his own. Cradling Roman's head to his chest, he leans down and kisses both his forehead and his cheeks, just staying there for a long, long moment. Roman's soft sobs echo gently in his ear and he tucks a stray piece of hair back from his face.

"You're not stupid," he murmurs, "you're not going to mess everything up again. You're okay. You're okay, sweetie."

Roman sniffles and shakes his head. "No, it's not. It's not okay."

"…no," Janus concedes, pulling Roman close, "I suppose it's not."

***

Not many things can happen in the Mindscape without Remus noticing, and almost nothing can happen to his brother without him showing up to knock some heads.

Case in point: when there's a tug in his gut telling him that Roman is upset, he grabs his Morningstar and sinks out without hesitating.

When he rises up in the living room, it takes less than two seconds for him to determine one: that Logan is picking on his brother, two: Patton isn't doing anything to stop him, and three: Roman is crying.

"Remus, not now," Logan sighs, "we're in the middle of something."

"You're in the middle of hurting my brother."

"R-Re?" He's got his arm around Roman's shoulders in the next moment. "W-wait, I need to—I have to—I gotta explain."

"Explain what, Roro?"

Logan sighs. "Roman has been trying, unsuccessfully, to explain that we are at fault for—"

"Ah, no." Remus throws a knife at Logan. "I didn't ask you. Shush."

"Remus! Throwing knives at people isn't nice!"

"Neither is making them cry! We're all in agreement." He tucks his head against Roman's, gentling his voice. "What're you trying to explain, Roro?"

"The—" he sniffles— "Janus said I should try—try talking to them and I said it wouldn't work but he—he insisted an' I—"

"Shh, shh, take your time, Ro, you're doing great."

"Heart. Morality. Prince. Logic."

Remus's little black heart breaks in two and he wraps his arms tightly around his brother. "Oh, Ro, it's okay. It's gonna be okay, lemme get you somewhere safe and I'll do it for you, okay?"

"You don't have to—"

"Trust me, Ro-bro, I got this."

Roman sags in his arms. "O-okay."

Remus quickly bids the Imagination to open its doors and sinks Roman out, giving him a gentle push into the forest before reappearing in the living room. He cracks his knuckles and grins.

"Alright, where were we?"

Logan sighs. "Remus, I don't—"

"Ah, that's right!" Remus throws another knife at him. "You, not listening to people who can't articulate things as well as you can! Rude and ableist, Loganberry, not a good look on you."

"I am not—"

"Roman can't articulate his thoughts as well as you can and so you think you're better than him, smarter than him, and that he's not worth listening to, is that explicit enough?" Logan opens and closes his mouth a few times but doesn't say anything. "Mm. And you!"

Patton yelps as Remus throws something at him too.

"You have a nasty habit of making Roman feel like a helpless little kid! You have a lot of sway over things like Thomas's sense of right and wrong and when you don't talk to Roman like he's your equal, you really fuck him up!"

"Language—"

"Don't fucking talk to me about my language," Remus says with artificial cheeriness, "talk to yourself about how not to give my brother an identity crisis!"

He stops throwing things, mainly because the rest of them are exploding or things he knows Roman would rather he didn't throw at them, no matter how tempting it is. The two of them slowly get their shit together, each with a different amount of regret. He doesn't really care about that, though, so long as they're not going to hurt Roman like that again.

"Good chat!"

And he sinks out to tackle Roman into Ollie's pond so they can have fun playing and not crying.

God, he loves his brother.

***

"Hey, Thomas?"

Thomas looks up and sees Virgil on the stairs. "Oh, hey, Virge, what's up?"

"You, uh, you asked me to keep an eye on Princey."

He sits up straight. "Yeah, what's—what's going on?"

Virgil sighs, rubbing his hands together. "There was a…not a fight, but some stuff happened. Turns out that Roman, uh, didn't believe you when you said you still thought of him as your hero and it…got bad."

"Do I want to know how bad?"

"Like, bad enough that Roman wasn't—shit, Thomas, no, I don't think you wanna know. Let's just say it was bad enough that he wasn't just going to the Imagination for comfort, he was going there because it was the only place he felt safe."

"Oh, Roman…"

"The fight—the thing was about Roman trying to explain to Patton and Logan how it fucked him up really badly, and he wasn't—you know how Roman's not always the best at explaining himself?"

"Yeah?"

"It—it wasn't really going well. Remus had to step in and do it for him."

"Wait, Remus?"

"Yeah, they're brothers. Remus—shit, Remus is really protective of Roman sometimes and this time wasn't an exception. Everyone's fine now, but it's…" Virgil sighs. "Logan and Patton have apologized and everybody's working on it, but I thought you'd want to know."

"How much stuff happens with you guys that I don't know about?"

"Honestly? I don't think you want the answer to that either."

"Jesus." Thomas scrubs a hand over his face. "Alright, well, thanks for telling me, Virgil. If…if there's anything I can do, let me know?"

Virgil nods and sinks out. Thomas puts a hand to his chest, rubbing in slow circles. There's a part of him that feels cold, still. Maybe…maybe he can figure out some way to help warm it up.

***

Roman wakes up to the sound of a crackling fire. He hums, rolling over, reaching for the edge of the bed, only to stop when his hands meet the thick red comforter. He frowns. This…this is his bed. He didn't fall asleep in the Imagination. So then why…?

He looks over and his eyes widen.

Across the room, tucked into a neat little alcove that definitely wasn't there when he went to sleep, is a merrily crackling fireplace. Above it, mounted on a gold plaque, is a cardboard sword with the words you're my hero written on it in red ink.

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#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #dragonbabbles #fic

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meowthefluffy · 1 year

Text

An update on my unfinished au’s!

I have over the last few months fallen deeply out of love with the Sanders Sides series and as a result I have not updated any of my projects in some time. At the current point I am at I am only planning to do the final two installments in the cupid au (because I pretty much lost my affection for the ts series right before the big finale of the project!!) and the lust Roman au (as it is my longest running work to date and I want to comple the project as a show of dedication to my younger self) although it will most likely be on a much quicker time scale than I was intending originally! (Instead of the 11 more parts I was hoping to produce it will probably be closer to 5 and I will most likely skip a few parts of the story that weren’t as important)

I feel a lot of affection for the work I have created but not a lot for the actual series so I’m trying to find a way to rework the stories I’ve created for the au’s to become independent creations that I will enjoy continuing to make! (Aside from the Lust au which I feel is mostly a story I don’t feel the need to come back to/rework since it relies so heavily on the source material) Most of my au’s function as stories mostly separate from canon material except for the characters archetypes present in each, so I’ll be working on retooling/reskinning said work to be more original and workable as long term projects! (Since u guys were really invest in my plots which had almost nothing to do with the canon characterization)

I’m currently working on retooling the Zombie au (Which I used as heavy inspiration for my oc Sophia I sometimes post about and her girlfriend) the Cupid au (I’m putting together more creative designs for the characters so that I can hopefully redo the comic- since I’m super in love with the concept) The sleeping beauty au (since it functions entirely the same as a stand alone story- and I could use the designs of my princess characters from that comic I made a long time ago for Valentine’s Day ) and the Super hero au! (Which I never properly defined and thus have a lot of incomplete ideas for, and my only struggle is coming up with better super hero names for them)

The only one of my main au’s I probably won’t rework is the Evil king au- just because I’m not sure how I could retool it to not just be a story about abuse(I feel more comfortable creating a story where everything is horrible and bad and the people involved are just bad for eachother when it’s an au- because there is other work of those characters where they aren’t that way to balance it out- but if it were my own new characters I feel as though it wouldn’t be nearly as fun to read or write)

This is a series of decisions I’ve been trying to wait on for a long time because I have been hoping something sanders Sides related would come out soon that would re spark my interest but nothing so far has happened- and with the way the story is going I don’t think it’s something that is going to happen. I still love all the work I have created for this fandom and I am so proud of all the collaborative projects I have been able to create with you all! I will happily re-read your asks and comments on my comics and I am still really proud of the community I’ve been able to create!

I’m sad to let this part of my life go (it’s taken up a solid 4th of my lifetime) and I understand that a lot of you all won’t follow me to my new projects- because I understand you guys didn’t come here for random oc projects- or original comics. And Altho it breaks my heart to see some of you move on and leave my notifications I am happy I the time with you all that I did!

Thank you all for everything- and I’ll see you soon 💖

#Im going to use the Prinxiety tags so that more people will see this post- since I am one of the bigger Prinxiety centric creators)#prinxiety #ts roman #tsvirgil #virgil sanders #cupid! au #sanders sides #roman sanders

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sandersea · 5 months

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✨ intro/pinned post ✨

about me ⬇️

name: sander (or sasha. don't make your childhood nickname your pen name)

pronouns: he/him

age: over 18. i don’t want to put an exact number because then i’ll have to edit it every year, but i’m the parent of a teenager

other: 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ i’m white, i’m a gemini, i’m from oakland (i see u andrew minyard), i cannot be killed in any way that matters. as of writing this (april 21, 2024) it has been 58 days since my last near-death experience 🥳

my writing 📝

i mostly write aus, generally those of the magical or supernatural variety. occasionally i remember that canon exists and i include sports. mostly i drop one novel-length fic and then vanish. i’m trying to be better.

you can find my ao3 here

my favorite fic i’ve ever written is king laugh, tied with ain’t no place like home. the BEST fic i’ve ever written is dangerous magics

i actually mostly write original fiction, which you are more than welcome to ask about (i would be delighted)

the blog 💻

this is a side blog dedicated solely to aftg content, so don't be offended if it never follows you back. follows and most communications come from my main blog here

i was very active in this fandom back in 2016-2018 and then i vanished into the mists. i can absolutely promise it will happen again. in the meantime i’m trying to get back into fandom life so i welcome any and all interactions: tag me, message me, anything you want

i very frequently forget to switch back to my main blog so if you see something weird no you don’t 🤪

s. 🦊🧡

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pencilpat · 10 months

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Sanders Sides: College AU - Part 6

“Did you not enjoy meeting me?” Patton tries to ignore the sweat on their skin as though these simple questions are an interrogation. “I did enjoy meeting you, J! You’re fun to talk to.”

Patton continues to be tangled in the coils of Janus's not-well-thought-out revenge plans. Virgil is struggling over the changes his partner is exhibiting. Remus and Roman decide some things matter more than drama from high school.

3,012 words

[CW: manipulation, drug mentions, character experiencing psychosis, mentions of panic attacks, alcohol mentions, discussion of holiday related trauma, abusive father mention, abusive mother mention, codependent familial relationship]

▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸

The charms on Patton’s phone clack against each other as they walk down the street, glancing hurriedly around for a particular park bench between a bakery café and a bar. They glance at the texts from their new friend J one more time, scrolling up slightly through several days of messages just to check they have everything right. It’s midday on a weekend, and Patton may or may not have had to tell a small fib to get time away from the others; nothing terrible, they just told them they had some shopping to do.

They clutch their phone at their chest, nervously glancing up at a bakery with the correct name. They look around the sidewalk as they come up to it, landing on a bench right outside. The green painted wood stands out cheerily in an area of town where most color comes from neon signs promising your wildest of parties. It’s empty, however, and they hum to themselves and sit down, smoothing out their overall-dress with a heavy sigh.

Pat: Hey J! I’m here, where are u?

They fire off a confused text, rubbing their forehead and adjusting their glasses. The bakery wafts warm smells out at them that nearly, almost, cover the reek of the bars all around it. It’s a quiet little spot that seems so out of place… It’s kind of cute, with a wood cabin façade on the front of the brick building and rows of pastries in the window.

🍏❤: Look up

Patton rereads her message twice, glancing up and blinking rapidly around. From the glass door of the café, they finally see her, waving them inside with a glimmering smile and black gloved hands. Patton sighs in relief and enters the store, face to face with her.

“Hi J! I thought you might have bailed on hanging out for a moment.”

“Oh, Pat, please. I would never turn down an opportunity with you.”

Patton giggles slightly. “You say that like we’ve been friends for years instead of this being our third time even meeting up!”

J shrugs at them, a wry grin crossing the corners of her lips. She gestures around at the incredibly cozy looking bakery with armchairs and coffee tables instead of restaurant tables. “Is this more your thing than the bars we tried last time?”

“Oh!” Patton touches their chest, appreciating being thought of like that. “Um, yes, this is nicer and calmer. Those bars were a lot for me. So was being drunk.”

J smirks. “Yes, I could gather that considering you almost threw up in the bathroom.”

“Hey, don’t kick someone when they’re down, J!” Patton jokes, patting at her arm repeatedly. Looking over at the counter and the menu above it, Patton sees pastries, several coffees, and a whole separate menu of hot chocolates. “I guess it is getting close to the holidays,” they murmur as the two of them approach. Janus glances at them, but just proceeds with ordering a mint cocoa. Patton ends up settling on a Mexican style hot cocoa, which has never let them down in deliciousness before.

As they both sit down, Janus leans her chin on her hands. “So, what is it about the holidays that made you look like a shellshocked war vet all of a sudden?”

“Oh!” Patton tries to wipe anything but a smile off of their face. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to worry about it!”

“Hm, who said I was worried. Curious would perhaps be a more accurate word. Don’t you enjoy them? Sitting down with those you love and pretending, for just a moment in time, that all is well…” Janus trails off in thought, eyes closing.

“I think it’s all that pretending that I don’t like about it, actually. I had to pretend everything was just fine one too many times on Christmas day.”

“Oh?”

Patton flinches at their own revealing words. The distant image of their dad’s used needles on the coffee table alongside wrapping paper rotates in their mind, a thought they can’t banish. They knock their knuckles on the wooden armrests three times, taking a breath and holding it for a moment. The image moves on. “Yeah, the holidays weren’t… the best of times, growing up. Well, nothing was really the best of times back then.”

J says nothing for a moment, before realizing Patton has stopped. “Leaving me on a cliffhanger, Pat?”

“I don’t really like talking about it-“

The conversation is cut off by the appearance of a barista who sets their drinks in front of them with a wave. Patton picks up the red mug they were given, blowing on the steam and floating around a lone cinnamon stick inside of it. Decidedly not making eye contact. J stares at them, resting her gloved hands over the warm mug and drinking in the heat on her cold limbs. She massages her throat, deciding on a tone of voice to use. Concern? Guilt tripping? Passive aggressive? ‘Genuine’ kindness?

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” she says, settling on a compassionate, slightly upset tone. “But I just want to help, in any area I can.”

Patton shifts in their chair, and meets her eyes again with a tired sigh. “No, it’s okay, I know you just… just want to help. I don’t like talking about my childhood a lot of the time.” Janus nods, preparing to catalogue information for later. “It wasn’t a good one. My dad wasn’t a good guy, honestly, but- but he was very good at pretending to be. Went to church every Sunday, did substances in his free time, you know, typical hypocritical religious man.” Patton laughs uncomfortably, and Janus tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. Patton sips their still scalding cocoa, trying to hide or divert somehow. “A-anyways, he’s gone now. I don’t talk to my mom either, so… yeah.”

“Seems like you have a storied past, Pat. Does your… boyfriend take good care of you, at least? Did you take him out somewhere like I suggested?”

“Oh, he does take good care of me, yes! We both help each other with our mental health a lot.” Patton rubs their hand over the side of the mug anxiously. “I tried taking him somewhere during school hours as a surprise like you said might work, but I don’t know, I think it just upset him. There’s been some personal drama in our friend group.”

“Oh, has there?” she says. Janus represses the urge to be pleased with herself, because Patton seems upset in a way that even she doesn’t feel comfortable toying with.

“Yeah… Our housemate’s brother had to be kicked out.”

“Really?” she says, faux shocked. “And what caused that?”

“He was… involved with drugs,” Patton whispers. “And it was really- It- It could have put my friends in danger. We were being harassed by his dealers.”

“Was he not your friend as well?”

“Not… not in a real, genuine way. We would argue more than actually enjoy being around each other. We had very different ideas about right and wrong.”

“And what are your ideas on right and wrong, Pat?”

Patton chuffs out a light laugh. “Well, the main point of contention we argued on was that drugs are absolutely never a good thing, especially if other people are involved too.”

“Right, and that’s why you were out drinking alone when we met.”

Patton tenses up and hides in another sip of too-hot cocoa. “That was my first time ever- I do not go out. Not, at least, before we met.”

“Did you not enjoy meeting me?”

Patton tries to ignore the sweat on their skin as though these simple questions are an interrogation. “I did enjoy meeting you, J! You’re fun to talk to.”

“Well, at least I have that going for me. God forbid I secretly be a drug dealer or something, could you imagine?”

“You’re… not, are you?”

Janus’s smile falls dramatically into a near cartoonish disappointed frown, and she raises an eyebrow at them. “I was joking, no, I don’t do any substances but booze.”

“Okay, good, ha,” Patton relaxes a slight bit, breathing out a low breath. “How about you, J? I revealed some childhood of mine – how was yours?”

“Definitely just as bad as yours, sweetie.” It’s Janus’s turn to awkwardly sip at her mug, feeling small all of a sudden, as though the entire world is watching her rather than the single, spectacled gaze of her new 'bestie.' Patton stares at her curiously until the silence is making her uncomfortable. “I haven’t talked to either of my parents since I was 15 if that tells you anything.”

“Why’s that?”

Janus sighs through her nose, eyes closing tiredly for a moment as she picks her words carefully. “I got kicked out to put it simply. My parents were very traditional, only second-generation immigrants with a whole lot of strong ideals and desires about my future. They didn’t take kindly to having a trans kid, to say the least.” Patton nods, eyebrows creased sympathetically, encouraging her to keep going. “I made it on my own from there. Now, here I am. Voila.”

“That was a lot of words to tell me almost nothing at all, J,” Patton teases her lightly.

“I don’t prefer divulging so much information when I’ve met someone all of three times.”

Patton shrugs, humming. “That’s fair, I won’t pry! I don’t have a crowbar anyways.”

Janus chuckles, rolling her eyes just slightly. “Ugh, wordplay. Anyways. How is your drink?”

“Oh, it’s very nice! Hot cocoa never misses though, so it’s to be expected,” Patton smiles across at her. Janus hums, drinking deep from her mug, letting the warm feeling replace her pain just for a moment. She needs to remain unrecognized, but damn is it rough to get around without her crutches. The mint and chocolate taste does a good job of flooding her sense out. She sighs out a breath, peeking at Patton through one eye.

“This is nice. Very relaxing, quiet. Never thought I could enjoy an activity that is basically just sitting there.”

“Well, just sitting there can be nice! Especially with a friend.”

Janus smiles, though whether it’s a reaction to the kindness or a grim nod to how far from friendship this really is, even she couldn’t tell you. “I’m glad you feel that way, Pat. I suppose we can do more things at ‘your pace’ from here on; I’ve realized I just might need the relaxation. Plus, you are ever-interesting to learn about.”

Patton smiles at her sheepishly, and her lips split into a smile as well, teeth bared and glimmering under her thick black lipstick.

They’ve attempted to practice this song before, so Virgil lets himself get very, very into it, banging the drums like he has a personal vendetta against percussion instruments while Roman attempts to keep up on his bass guitar. Roman sweatily plays the last notes of the song, but Virgil doesn’t stop playing, seemingly just starting right back into the drums for the chorus in a loop, his eyes closed and face scrunched up.

“Virgil!” Roman attempts to call out to him four times, and eventually just walks up to him and catches the cymbal as he was about to hit it, muffling it and finally startling him out of his trance. “Earth to emo, the song’s over already!” Virgil just stares at him for a moment, panting with wide eyes.

“Uh- Sorry. I got caught up in it.”

“No kidding,” Roman snarks, leaning against his kit. “How are we supposed to have a successful recording if you are dead set on becoming the next Def Leopard?”

“Sorry, jeeze,” Virgil mumbles. He begins getting up and moving towards their water bottles, and Roman can’t help noticing how stiff and uncomfortable he looks.

“Virgil?” he stops him. “Hey, is something amiss?”

Virgil sighs, chugs a large gulp of water, and then wipes his brow. “Yeah, it’s- I’m fine, it’s nothing serious.”

“You are acting fishier than sushi Sundays, just tell me what’s up.”

Virgil groans. “I dunno. Patton’s just been… weird lately. Have you noticed it at all?”

Roman tries to think, tapping his chin. “Nothing outside of their usual oddities.”

“They’ve been veering into really upsetting territory for me lately.” Roman makes an inquiring hum, and Virgil grimaces. “Really quick to tell white lies and immediately assure me it won’t have any consequences. They also stay up in the living room most nights instead of coming to bed with me early like they used to. And they keep leaving the house for seemingly no reason.”

“Not necessarily the most unlike them they could act, but it is odd. Do you think it could be new rituals? Do they need their meds adjusted?”

Virgil shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t know. They haven’t needed their meds changed in at least half a year; they’ve been really stable anxiety-wise? It’s just- just weird, and I don’t like it. It keeps making me have panic attacks.”

“Well, we certainly can’t have that. Have you spoken with them about it yet?”

“No, I’m too nervous that I’m just being… being over-cautious.” Virgil pulls up his hood, gripping the sides of it and worrying with the fabric. “What if I bring it up and they think I’m being crazy?”

Roman touches his hands with his, for once gloveless, fingers, looking at him seriously. “You know for a fact Patton would never in their life call you crazy, especially when you are just concerned for them. Whatever it is, I know they’ll let us know when they feel like they can. Until then, I know it’s asking much from you, but trust them.”

Virgil grimaces, but it fades into a soft smile. “Thanks for reassuring me, Rom, I’m sorry. Just get a little anxious sometimes.”

“Oh please, in another universe, the name on your birth certificate is ‘Anxiety’ Addams instead,” Roman teases. Virgil scoffs, then swipes Roman’s bangs into his face, leaving him sputtering on his own hair as they both laugh.

Roman is already settled cozily in bed and half asleep when his phone begins ringing, and he groans at it dramatically for ruining his sleep. He fumbles on his bedside table and pulls the bright light into view. He nearly drops the phone in his urgency to pick it up the second his sleepy eyes register Remus’s contact name.

“Remus! You’re calling me?! You dick, just text me when I te-“

“Do you hate me, Roman?”

Roman just kind of freezes in place, listening to his twin’s very heavy breathing. “Remus? Are you okay?”

Remus laughs shakily on the other end. “Change of environment finally caught up with me. The stress of ignoring you did too, I guess.”

Roman cups the phone against his ear as though it could count as comforting Remus across the phone line. “I don’t hate you, no. I don’t think I could manage it as much as I like to pretend I can.” Roman replies to him with as much sober sincerity as he posed the question. “You’re my brother, you know?”

“Being their son didn’t make them love me. I don’t know why you’d uphold family ties so much after everyone else got rid of me.” Roman hears Remus’s breath hitch, and he knows instantly that he must be feeling things grabbing his legs again. It’s a common but very distressing hallucination for him.

“Remus, mom and dad can suck shit,” Roman declares, and to his happiness, it draws a more genuine sounding chuckle from his twin. He can’t help smiling at the sound of his stupid laugh. “Maybe family ties are bullcrap, but whatever you and I have isn’t anything like how mom and dad ‘showed love.’ We actually love each other, like real fucking family.” Roman pauses, listening to Remus breathe again, proving his twin is there to himself. “I did promise I’d always take care of you. Nothing about that has changed.”

“It has though, y’know?” Remus’s voice shakes slightly. “We’re adults, like fully now, and we can’t be that close anymore.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be healthy for two 20ish bros to share a bed, no offence but I don’t like you like that,” Remus jokes, making Roman snort out a laugh and roll his eyes.

“Remus, you’re such an idiot. I do concede that I never want to share a bed with you again because you stink,” Remus laughs on the other end, but Roman continues. “But us doing that isn’t the extent of brother-ness. You were sick, like really sick, back then. We can care for each other… outside the context of suffering, too.”

“Even though I went and stayed with her? Do you really think Virgil could handle you still talking to me regularly?”

Roman sighs. “Look- Just- Some things are more important than that stupid godawful fight from high school. You and I weren’t even involved, we just had to physically put ourselves between them.”

“Didn’t know Virgil was capable of being that scary TBH,” Remus mutters, pronouncing each letter of the acronym.

“Yyyeah, me either up until then.” He sighs. “We couldn’t exactly not take his side, you know?”

“We could have not taken sides at all!”

“Remus, look, Janus isn’t – or at least wasn’t – a good person or a good friend, and even if you’re talking to her, don’t bring her into me and Virgil’s lives if you can help it. Please?” Roman listens to him breathe in deeply.

“I won’t, don’t worry about that. Look your highness, I need to go and smoke a joint, or else this episode is just getting worse for the night, but Roman?”

“Yes Remus?”

“I promise I won’t ignore your texts anymore. See you never, loser.”

“See you in tartarus , you jerk,” Roman says playfully, rolling his eyes. “And… Love you.”

There’s a pause of silence and shifting for a bit longer than comfortable. “Love you too, Rom,” Remus says, quickly hanging up and leaving Roman alone in the darkness again.

#sanders sides #college au #sasi au #tss au #sanders sides human au #patton sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #platonic prinxiety #creativitwins

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nova-they-exist-yup · 1 year

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hm hm hm hm

HMS and sanders sides comparison thoughts

HMS may be objectively more unstable(obvs), but I'm honing in on the idea that they just don't have any "dark sides" in the same way c!Thomas does. There are references to lying, fear, and well, violence(actually heart does reference intrusive thoughts in THA a little). And whatever orange turns out to be there's probably references to that too, the album gets dark.

So I think any "dark side" functions would've been split between HMS based on whether the function is more "left"/"right" brained, meaning whole is... comfortable, potentially(??) knowing that he can feel and think those kinds of things. His problem comes from the divide between H + M (+ S).

I mean Whole can still repress via Soul maybe but he's more self-aware ig. And what makes it stranger is that the album also has religious references much like in sanders sides, so uhh different reactions to religious trauma/guilt?? That's something to analyse. If I had a nickel for every piece of media I've consumed where a guy separates his personality into parts that has religious themes I'd have two nickles. But it's weird that it happened twice.

Any thoughts?

Oooo good points! Idea:

HMS are broader concepts than the sides, as there’s 7 sides and only HMS (3). So HMS probably encompass a dark and a light side, as well as aspects from Virgil.

Mind- Logan + Orange

Heart- Patton + Janus

Soul- Roman + Remus

I feel the main things that separate them tho are how destructive they are and how they interact. HMS are all pretty violent, to themselves and to each other. The sides are a lot more level headed. Additionally, HMS just have a hard time interacting ig, and the sides can (mostly) get along just fine.

The religious themes definitely do have a role somewhere, but idk very much, considering 1) I’m an atheist and I don’t know much about religion, and 2) I feel like the religious trauma card would hold up easier for HMS and less for the sides. Do correct me if I’m wrong.

Keeping that in mind, tho, Thomas and Whole are essentially two sides of the same coin.

They both are trying to figure out if they’re a good person, struggling with the concept. They both have parts of themselves they can talk to. They’re both going through mental health struggles. Their situations besides those details are vastly different, but I feel like they would be able to bond considering this similarity.

So yeah, my funky ideas. You can respond if u like! :]

#chonny jash #sanders sides #comparing my funky little guys #this is the life

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transfemlogan · 11 months

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Yeah I totally get that I’ve definitely felt that way about fandoms and have been that way about sanders sides in particular many times, I tend to get over it then get back into it on and off. I hope my original ask didn’t come off as like accusitory or mean I really didn’t want it to I just wanted to hear your view on it, I’m really sorry if it did.

I’m also autistic and it’s really hard to me to convey or understand emotion through text so I’m like really worried what I said came off as rude haha 😅

I don’t think you’re wrong for feeling that way, I also feel that way I just don’t express it as harshly so I assumed it was like a deep hatred and that’s what made me a bit confused about your views on it, really sorry again if I sounded rude I didn’t mean to

/gen

-same anon as before

U DIDNT COME OFF AS MEAN /GEN /SRS I JUST HAD A LOT OF THOUGHTS !!

#ur totally ok anon i love u #ask

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tscritical · 2 years

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honestly i love this blog sm bc i’m glad that so many ppl are in the same boat as me. i used to love sanders sides it was just such a big part of my life and it truly helped me at times. and without it never would have met some of the most amazing ppl in my life (including my s/o) but the series broke my heart. from the lack of content, to the convoluted plot, to the overpriced merch, to his treatment of the fanders, etc. it’s so sad. don’t get me wrong i don’t hate him (well the jury’s still out on that) but i really want him to improve. want him to see this series to a satisfying end i want him to be able to make content he wants to and had the motivation for (he is clearly burnout) and i want his fans to be replayed for their dedication. but i know i can’t go back to that series if i wanted to so much of the beloved parts have been tainted by my disappointment which is truly so sad. but i’ve also gotten into other stuff that also makes it hard like when i dropped tss i started the magnus achieves (a phenomenal horror podcast that i would highly recommend that’s also complete) it was planned from the beginning and the writer and the rest of team loved it and you could feel the passion in the product. and it is something that i love the relisten to bc there is something new everytime. and we always knew where our money went. the patreon got the an actual recording set up instead of being a microphone inside a blanket fort in someone’s hallway. they could hire a team to help edit. we got bonus content to. whether it was q&as, a table top dnd style game with the voice actors having a great time and even have platforms to aspiring horror writers. (can u tell i like the magnus archive) it’s such a breath of fresh air and would highly recommend it to ppl who deal with the frustrations of tss production

yeah there’s. so much to be disappointed in when it comes to ts stuff. i wish he and the team could manage their shit better. it’s like. so frustrating

like on one hand i wanna get it, cos ive been working on a novel for like. i wanna say three years now, maybe four? and i haven’t gotten much of anywhere. but also i don’t have a patreon backing me up. i don’t have a team dedicated to working on the content. i don’t have any of that. but thomas does have that. and that makes things so much more infuriating

what does his team actually do???? where does the patreon money actually go????? like wtf?????

i just want answers,,,,,, pls mr sanders,,,,,, pls,,,

#asks #ts critical #ts criticism

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a-scribe-writing-short-stories · 5 months

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The Furbees Take Over!

“Repeat the Furbees, ARE TAKING OVER!” Sanders yelled.

“Who’s stupid idea was it to bring them back!” I quickly scribed this down in my notebook.

-------------------------------------------------------

I kept tossing and turning. I turned over to check my phone: 3:42am. I tried closing my eyes. Nothing. I tossed my cover to the side and opened my eyes and got dressed for the gym.

I’m a freelance journalist. I’m my own boss but I still need work. I write about pop culture; music, fashion, ideals, toys/games, books. Anything that the young generation is into. I also cover college/university politics(protests). Journalism is not like how it used to be. Everyone within my career is writing about pop culture better.

]

I’m currently looking for work. My partner or should I say editor found my recent piece not as good as when he first met me; Micheal Gypsy, recent graduate at Columbia University with an editorial degree. I graduated from Brown U.

I finished my workout, and drove to Dunkin’. After Dunkin’ breakfast I made the hour drive to Fort Hope Naval Academy. Three of their men are currently being accused of destruction of poverty, grand theft auto and conspiracy to commit manslaughter with said stolen truck. Their alcohol count was triple then the legal limit for Rhode Island. It was about 7:15am when I got to the base.

Vice Admiral Charles “BBQ” Glasgow, whom I contacted through email, had just sent me an email that he was unavailable and that a Captain F. Sanders would be escorting me around the base and answering any other questions I had about the case. I got out of my car.

“Corporal Adrianna Martienz? Here for a tour and case #05-05-17-2012-26-45 OF?” No one’s called me Corporal in 6 years.

“Captain Sanders, I presume?” I can work with this.

“It’s Lieutenant Commander Saunders, but I understand the confusion. I just became a Lieutenant commander and people always seem to mispronounce my name.”

“Do I have your consent to record this interaction, Lieutenant Commander?” I asked as I opened my recording memos app.

“By Admiral Miami and myself, you Commander Martienz have both our consents to record this civilian interaction.”

“But you just acknowledge me as a Commander?” Why can’t it be just two people talking regardless of status?

“You were Commander Martinez, now you are Miss. Martiez. Lots of civilians ask for tours and try to picnics on the base but Fort Hope is still an active Navy base. Let’s make this quick. I have a meeting in 0100 hours, that’s-.” I interjected.

“10AM, I still know military time but I’m not here to talk about my army experience. I’m here to talk about the-” She cut me off.

“The 3 privates that destroyed that bar and the local convenience store, stole that truck and attempted to drive several pedestrians off the road and fought with local police.” Fighting with police? That’s new.

“I assume, the Military Police are overseeing the investigation alongside the local PD. Is there anything you can currently share for public ears?” I knew all information was sensitive but most of the time, it came with a price, what’s hers.

“Yes, Military Police are on Fort Hope poverty but they have taken over the investigation, the local police have given everything over to the investigation.” She’s a lieutenant commander but was she one of the good ones?

“This was a complete waste of my time. You, your superior officer or Vice Admiral Glasgow could have texted, called or emailed to not come to Fort Hope. I have no paper-.”

“Commander Martinez calmed down. The military police will make a statement once the local police have given everything a part of the investigation.”

“So you're saying the military police don’t have full control of the investigation?” So the local PD is still gathering evidence or…

“Good thing you weren’t recording that but yes… Do you still want to-.” She was cut off by her radio.

“Lieutenant Commander Sanders, we have a situation at coordinates at 41.840760 la and -71.393510 lo. We need you at the command center now!” Lt. Commander Sanders turned on heels and sprinted to the command center. I walked back to my car and opened to my police wire tapping app.

Chat about a “hostage situation going on at the Nathan Bishop Middle School. Local PD were holding down the scene and waiting for a hostage negotiator, The Local PD were between two and the new one was not in Rhode Island. I reversed out of my parking space and headed for the security checkpoint booth.

I waited for the guard to come take my car visitor pass and give back my license. I gave him the car visitor pass and as he was just about to hand me my license back…

“You were a hostage negotiator right?” She read my file.

“Yeah, a terrorist hostage negotiator but like you said, I’m retired, Lt. Commander Sanders.”

“Rhode Island just reinstated you.” as she has me a navy jacket.

—------------------------------------------------------

“Doesn’t Fort Hope have a hostage negotiator, why am I here, I’m still technically retired.” She didn’t answer. I don't have experience talking to an active school shooter.

It was 30 more minutes until we got to the soccer field of the middle school. I tried to think of what to say, Americans are not terrorists until they go against the country.

“Okay, what’s the plan for this? Do we know it’s an adult or… ?” I never talked to a kid overseas.

“We actually don’t know what the situation is but we just know that it’s at the middle school.” Lt. Commander Sanders escorted me to the mobile HQ.

“Let’s talk to this Mr. Bool, apparently his car’s trunk might have some trapped in there.” Lt. Commander Sanders walked with me.

“So you guys don’t have a warrant for his car? Do you trust me?” She looked at me confused but she nodded and we went to get Mr. Bool.

“Wait, now the military is here? I didn’t do anything.” Mr. Bool was irritated but more concerned.

“Mr. Bool can we have your permission to look inside your trunk?” Let’s see if he can trust me.

“That’s what this is about, yes you have my permission, here are my car keys.” We allowed mr. Bool to open his trunk. Lt. Commander Sanders and I sifted through personal stuff but nothing else.

“Mr. Bool we all apologized for this terrible misassumption. This officer will take your final statement. Again I’m truly sorry.” Maybe this was a prank call by a student who got a bad grade or-.

“U-nye-boh-doo? How are you?!” shouted a voice from the back of Mr. Bool’s car.

“Someone hold Mr. Bool back!” Lt. Commander Sanders ordered.

Lt. Commander Sanders and I started searching the backseat of Mr. Bool’s car.

“Wee-tah-kah-wee-loo! Tell me a story!” Again that little voice. I saw a jacket I used the back of my hand to feel underneath the jacket and nearly broke my hand.

“Lt. Commander Sanders, it’s a Ferbee. That 90’s weird animal antmontroic.” I took it out of the car.

“That’s my daughters’, I told her not to bring it to school, so I told her to leave it in my car. She’s at school right now, at the elementary school. Her aunt works there, you can check.” Lt. Commander signaled to an officer and the officer ran back to the mobile HQ.

“SO, no country is threatened in the back of a middle school teachers’ car. Can we wrap this up?” There was no threat here.

“Yeah, sorry for dragging you down here. I owe you a drink.” Lt. Commander Sanders shut the backseat door and took off her gloves.

“I gotta decline, I don’t drink but thanks for the offer.” I was about to put the Furbee back when.

“U-nye-boh-doo! U-nye-loo-lay-doo! Hello Miss. Martinez, do you want to hear a story?” Okay I did not just hear this Furbee talk to me.

“U-nye-boh-doo Miss. Martienz. Look what we can do…” The ground started to shake. The Furbee closed its eyes and the ground kept shaking. After several moments a giant Furbee appeared from behind the high school 3 miles west of the middle school.

“U-nye-boh-doo!” The giant Furbee boomed. With eyes still closed the small Furbee in my hand translated.

“He wants to talk to you, Lt. Commander Sanders.” I looked up at Lt. Commander Sanders…

-------------------------------------------------------

“Repeat the Furbees, ARE TAKING OVER!” Sanders yelled.

“Who’s stupid idea was it to bring them back!” I quickly scribed this down in my notebook.

Written By: V. Scri&e

#short stories #book idea #90's toys

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carolinemillerbooks · 8 months

Text

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/penny-wise-and-pound-foolish/

Penny Wise, and Pound Foolish

Like the boy who cried wolf, U. S. Senator Bernie Sanders has long blamed oligarchs for weakening our democracy. Of late, his prognostications ring true. Vast fortunes concentrated in the hands of large corporations and a few individuals have weakened the middle class, leading the country toward a two-tiered economic system of rich and poor. Accumulating money has become the focus of almost every institution, including religion. Greed has a similar stranglehold in the book publishing business, which is why I’ve decided to give up writing novels and will return to short stories. I’m not alone in my disappointment with book publishing. In an interview on Just Read It, author Karl Marlantes also admits that art has merged with commerce. We should have seen it coming. Once publishing houses started gobbling up their weaker competitors, the behemoth companies that emerged stopped accepting book submissions over the transom. They turned the talent search over to agents. Agents live on leaner profits than publishers, so to foster their solvency they prefer commercial work rather than art. How else can one explain literary fodder like Fifty Shades Of Grey? Making agents gatekeepers in the publishing world has also led to a demand for books with a continuing character. Once a writer scores, headhunters prefe to stick with the formula. Neither publishers nor agents market books. That task they assign to authors. In the past, that wasn’t the case. But today, whether house-published or self-published, authors find themselves obliged to trawl for customers. Amazon, which began as an internet bookseller, was quick to see a market niche. Expanding from sales, they pivoted to include distribution services for small presses and self-published authors. Their plan was a success. Amazon grew large enough to put fear into the hearts of big publishing houses. To compete, those houses added electronic sales to their distribution system. But by then, Amazon had nearly cornered the market. Big publishing houses had to cut a deal. Naturally, Amazon grew larger. Today, it controls more than 50 percent of the online and offline book sales, its earnings totaling $28 billion a year. In the beginning, Amazon had an advantage over its competitors. Being an internet company, it was exempt from state and local taxes. These savings, it passed on to their customers. And who doesn’t like a bargain? Consumers flocked to Amazon like a baby to its Pablum. Neighborhood bookstores couldn’t compete and began to die off. Seeing its power, the company flexed its muscles and turned on the publishing houses, demanding deeper discounts. The houses resisted, and for a time, lawyers on both sides of the debate profited mightily with suits and countersuits. Eventually, both sides agreed the legal solution was too expensive and sought common ground. The answer was to raise costs for the consumer. As a result, these companies have been accused of price fixing. For readers and writers, the publishing terrain has grown arcane. Here’s another example. Recently, I published a review on Amazon for Susan Stoner’s latest Sage Adair mystery series, Preservation, A few months later Amazon’s review policy changed. A former South African student wrote me to complain that Amazon had rejected her review of my memoir, Getting Lost to Find Home. She had violated “community standards,” they said. After reading what she’d written, I scratched my head. Reading this book brings back some of my fond memories of the time Ms Miller spent in Africa. As a scholar at the school where she taught in Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) (sic), I remember her as a young energetic teacher full of fun. In her memoir Ms Miller realistically conveys her challenge of being out of her comfort zone, facing new and unforeseen adventures. The beautifully written travel log tells of the journey from initial excitement to trepidation and uncertainty, to facing the harsh reality of life in a foreign country. A good read of a coming of age. As it turned out, the community standard was self-serving. Amazon told my former student she hadn’t purchased enough books the previous year to be eligible to submit a review. I shrugged at the bald audacity. The policy might work for the company, but it does bupkus for the writer who could use a few kind words. As for the consumer, they get short shrift, too. The pennies they once saved with the internet company have evaporated. And while free speech exists in the Western world, on Amazon, it has a price. ________________________________ Listen as William Kenower, host of the podcast “Author to Author” interviews Caroline Miller about her memoir “Getting Lost to Find Home” https://www.blogtalkradio.com/author-magazine/2024/01/23/author2author-with-caroline-miller

#Just Read It #Bernie Sanders #Big publishing houses struggle with Amazon #book reviews on Amazon #community standards on Amazon #death of small bookstores #Fifty Shades of Grey #Getting Lost to Find Home #Karl Marlantes #oligarchs of power in publishing #Sage Adair mystery series #Susan Stoner

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drarreckyninja · 2 years

Text

Chatroom Crossover Fic

Sanders Sides: Logan (Logan), Pattoncake (Patton), Princey (Roman), anxiousmess (Virgil)

Recess: Lemonaide (Menlo), Iguana (Randall)

Gotham: Ed N (Nygma), Egg™ (Zsasz), penguin (Oswald), JG (Jim)

Merlin: Assdragon (Arthur), DragoonTheGreat (Merlin)

Logan has created the group Campus House

Logan has added Lemonaide; Ed N; Pattoncake; Egg™; penguin; Princey; anxiousmess; Assdragon; JG; DragoonTheGreat; iguana to the chat

10:33 am

Logan

I don’t know if I can handle school this semester.

10:33 am

Pattoncake

Ru ok lolo? Uve only ben 2 one class

10:34 am

Logan

History was enough. Must you type in such a way that would anger the gods of grammar?

10:35 am

Gods of grammar? Wtf u smokin?

10:35 am

Pattoncake

Language

What happened Lo?

10:37 am

Logan

Icebreaker game. Informal teacher. One guy made a brass pun in every damn sentence. An embalming assistant sat on me and stole my glasses. He then sat on the floor and ate deodorant. Fucking deodorant. And a girl made eye contact with me during her icebreaker. And we didn’t do anything remotely necessary.

10:37 am

Pattoncake

I want to reprimand you, but I’m letting it slide

I’m sorry kiddo

When’s your next class?

When’s everyone’s next class?

10:38 am

Logan

Civ starts at 11:35. I’m sitting in the hall.

10:38 am

I’m in English w/ Roman & Os

Os has notifications off

10:39 am

Logan

How could you know?

10:39 am

Princey

He suggested we do b4 class

Sry bout Remus nerd

10:40 am

Logan

Have you dealt with the deodorant-eating miscreant before?

10:40 am

Pattoncake

Rude

10:40 am

Princey

True

You could say that. He’s my brother

10:41 am

Egg™

Boom! Who saw that shit coming?

10:41 am

Pattoncake

Language

Also, where ru?

10:42 am

Egg™

In gender & crime class rn

10:42 am

Lemonaide

Forensics let out early. Admin starts @ 11:35

10:42 am

Assdragon

Law starts @ 11:50. On way 2 rec center now

10:43 am

iguana

in mythology rn

10:43 am

Ed N

Psychology begins at 11:15. I’m going to Starbucks for a chai tea

10:43 am

DragoonTheGreat

Mythology w/ Randall

10:44 am

anxiousmess

My 1st class is art. Starts @ 11:15

10:44 am

Logan

Have you not left the house, Virgil?

Also, where are you, Patton?

10:45 am

anxiousness

Yeah. Eating toast

10:45 am

Pattoncake

I’m in a psych class

10:45 am

Logan

Don’t eat all my Crofter’s!

Patton focus on class.

10:46 am

Patton

My teacher wrote equations on board

Is on phone now

10:46 am

Logan

Wat

10:47 am

Patton

10:47 am

Logan

I Have. No. Words.

10:48 am

Egg™

I think u broke him.

#sanders sides #recess #gotham #merlin #chatroom au #fanfic #chat au #texting #uni au

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princeanxious · 3 years

Text

Was rereading alot of @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors’s awesome fics the other day(specifically a number of lys dukeceit centric ones) and can i just like?? Scream abt la for a moment?? Lys content is so fricken good? And Lu puts out a p dang consistent stream of it?? And just. A good number of ly fics are ones i come back to often bc they’re just. So well written??

And like. I’m not able to be a patreon for la atm so i hoped this piece could make up for it a little bc i reread Tulip’s fics often bc the fics are really detailed and have well-built au worlds, and very well-written character takes, even in just one off fics lu is really friggen talented at setting up whole worlds and character’s natural places in said worlds at seemingly the drop of a hat?? like. Obvi I know realistically it isnt at the drop of a hat. And i guess thats why it feels like lu is so good at that?? Bc its obvious so much effort goes into these fics and aus and i feel like ya’ll should go check la and ly fics out bc of it? Ly content is just so good and refreshing to delve into, y’know??

👉👈 soooo.. ye? Have some dukeceit as a gift bc i def struggle when it comes to using words dkskjdsd

#sanders sides #dukeceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #demus #romantic dukeceit #luka draws #yes i brought back ‘sugar scales’ from an old piece bc i love it. i hope ‘eldritch everheart’ comes off as just as endearing #mostly bc i came up with that one on the fly too and thought it fit the dukeceit dynamic very well?? xD #also i tried my best with your pronouns but if i got something wrong just let me know and i’ll be happy to fix it ^^#i’m also sorry if the proportions are like. a little janky? this piece fought me all day.#i have just realized i’ve been working on this piece off and on for like. nearly 12 hours #how do i know that?#because i’ve been watching that victorious analysis video pt 1 and 2 since i started this piece and i’m @ the collective 12 hr mark #and oh fuck i’ve just realized its already nearly 2 am and i was gonna dye my hair today. w e l p #honestly tho- worth it djsojf #i know i also boasted alot abt your content but you in general are just a rly cool person and v inspiring and alot of your fics have helped-#-me keep my love for tss thriving for so long & i just wanted to try and give a little back bc i know i cant donate to u atm like i want to #it’s not much but i hope you like it🌻

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 years

Text

Picture Imperfect pt 2

Prompts: hey this is a stupid ask but could u maybe make a fic about roman and virgil bonding and growing closer post pof and fwsa and all? could be platonic, pining and then romantic, whatever ud like. ik its not the best prompt but ive got them on the brain, ive re-listened to the reputation album and ur writing is just so good and if not, take care of urself! - anon

I absolutely love your Sanders Sides stories, I can always 'hear' the character's voices - if you get what I mean. If you ever feel motivated or are looking for suggestions, I'd love to see something more from "Picture Imperfect" - I know Roman implies that Imagination versions of the other Sides have escaped before, and I'd really love to see him/the other Sides dealing with something like that! Either way, thank you for all your hard work! <3 - anon

hey could u write a fic about like, ro and vee out on an outing (maybe a first or second date if it’s romantic) and it starts raining so ro expects virgil to get scared and go back inside, but he just starts laughing and dancing and having fun or whatever? and then suddenly they’re both having a blast in the rain (bonus points for the cheesiest fucking rain kiss ever-). no pressure btw, and i love ur work <3 especially how u portray prinxiety! - anon

Uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous babe I don’t know how to put this req here but it’s here I promise

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none

Pairings: prinxiety

Word Count: 3521

Virgil approaches him after everything is over and just pokes his arm.

“Uh, hey, Princey?”

“Yes?”

“Can you—can you tell me how many times you’ve done that?”

Roman frowns. “Done what?”

“Well, the whole…’other versions of us,’ thing.”

Shame curdles anew in his chest and he takes a deep breath, swallowing it as best he can. “W-well, I can’t specify exactly how many times I ran that specific scenario, but…er, it’s a tad more complicated than that, actually.”

“I got time.”

“U-um, can we—can we do this somewhere more private?”

“You wanna go to your room?”

“Yeah—yes, actually, that would be a good idea. There’s something in there that will help.”

Virgil frowns but doesn’t press until they’ve moved up and out of the living room. Roman glances at the door and lets out a sigh when he sees it’s closed. Good. Little chance of anyone interrupting them from either side now.

“Roman?”

He shakes himself. “Right. Sorry. So, um…can I ask why you’re asking, first of all? I-it’s not that I particularly mind answering, per se, it’s just that I…um…”

“You’ll be able to tailor your answer to my question if you understand the specifics of it?” He shrugs when Roman looks at him, surprised. “What? You and L really aren’t that different from each other, you know.”

“I know…”

Logan had said as much, taking him aside much like this and having the softest conversation about the importance of understanding why they’re each doing their own role when it comes to Roman’s ideas and the videos and everything, including saying something about how if he’s managed to stop Roman from wanting to create, he’s failed as a critiquer because he’s extinguished Roman’s creative drive.

Roman may or may not have cried into his shoulder after that.

“But really—running things over and over in your head just to show how much they could suck? Kinda my thing, Princey.”

“That’s what—oh, Virgil, I’m so sorry.”

“Eh.” He waves his hand. “Don’t worry about it. That’s my gig, I know how to do it in a way that’s healthy—okay maybe not entirely healthy,” he concedes when Roman gives him a look, “but it’s my thing. Maybe I’m wondering why you thought it had to be yours too.”

“I didn’t mean to steal your thunder, Virgil, I really didn’t—“

“Roman,” Virgil says, reaching out and taking his shoulders to make him look, “I’m not mad at you. I’m not gonna get mad at you. I’m worried, okay?”

Roman takes a deep breath. “Right. Sorry.”

“’S okay. Just take your time.”

In and out. We can do this.

“The Imagination is…temperamental,” he begins, “especially when it comes to all of us. Mostly because we’re a more…concrete part of Thomas’s Imagination seeing as we…sort of become real but not exactly?”

“Okay, I’m with you so far.”

“But because the Imagination likes to go in the direction of what could be, it…sometimes spits out other versions of us.”

Virgil blinks. “What, like clones?”

“Sort of? It’s more—it’s more like it makes alternate versions of us that lean slightly more into different—oh, goodness—character interpretations.”

Virgil narrows his eyes. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, there, Princey.”

Roman scrubs a hand over his face. “One time there was a Patton who got out of the Imagination that was obsessed with basking specifically chocolate chip cookies.”

“How is that different from our Patton?”

“This one managed to use literally all of the flour and sugar we had before I was able to stop him.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s—that’s different. So they’re all just, like, slightly off?”

“It’s more like if someone took the sliders for their personalities from their video game characters and messed around with them?” Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I’m not doing a very good job of explaining this.”

“No, no, I got it. That’s a good analogy.” Virgil glances at the door to the Imagination. “So—wait, is that where they come from?”

“They can come from any of the doors, they just mostly come through this one since it’s my side and not Remus’s and…um…”

Virgil raises an eye when Roman’s cheeks start to flush.

“God, this is embarrassing.”

“I’m not here to make fun of you,” he reminds, “I’m just worried.”

“You have to promise you won’t tease me.”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Wait, really, just like that?”

“I’m only an asshole to you when it’s funny, Roman.”

“Your definition of ‘funny’ needs some work.”

“You need to stop dodging the question.”

“Fine, fine, okay, it’s just…” Roman takes a deep breath. This is mortifying. “…sometimes I would summon them, okay?”

“You’d summon other versions of us? What for?”

“To…to…” He twists his hands together. “To…comfort me.”

Silence. Yep, this was a mistake. This was the worst decision he could have made here and he wishes this were a not-real version of Virgil so he could just yell cut and have this experience not be actually happening.

“…brace yourself, Princey, you’re getting a hug.”

“Wha—ah!”

Roman barely has time to finish asking the question before Virgil’s arms are wound tightly around him, his face buried in the crook of his neck as he tries to shove Roman into his chest. Roman just wraps his arms around him too, carefully twisting his fingers into the fabric of Virgil’s hoodie.

“…um…”

“Nope.” Virgil tightens his grip as Roman makes to pull back. “You get hugs now. No buts about it.”

“Do I get to ask why?”

“Aside from the fact that you’ve just told me you didn’t feel like you could ask us for comfort so you had to summon other versions of us?”

Roman wisely keeps his mouth shut and just rests his chin on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil makes a noise that sounds vaguely like that’s what I thought.

“…sorry?”

“Ah, shit, Princey, no,” Virgil mumbles, pulling back and looking Roman in the face, “I’m not—I’m not mad at you, okay? I’m—okay, I’m a little mad at myself and everyone else, but mostly I’m just sad, okay?”

“Since when have you been so transparent about what you’re feeling?”

As soon as he says it, he bites his lip so hard he almost draws blood.

“Shit, Roman, don’t do that.” Virgil taps his chin. “Leggo, come on. I’m just—you’re gonna make yourself bleed, let go—there, that’s better. I’m trying to be better about it, okay, that’s it.”

Roman just nods. Is…is he sure this isn’t some other version of Virgil? There’s the big door to the Imagination in the hallway, after all, maybe…

“It is really me, by the way, I can hear you thinking about it over there.”

“Wait, you can what?”

“Not literally, Princey,” Virgil says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “but thanks for telling me I’m right.”

Roman makes a face and goes to pull away when Virgil just chuckles and holds him tighter.

“Okay, that was mean.”

“Yes, yes, it was.”

“Look, just—you can come to us, okay? You don’t have to make versions of us that you think will comfort you ‘cause we won’t.”

“You—you mean that?”

“You see J around anywhere?”

Roman glances around. Sure enough, there’s no Janus. “Alright. I’ll—I’ll try.”

Virgil smiles at him—not a smirk, not that weird half-smile thing he does when he’s trying not to laugh, but a real smile—and claps him on the shoulder. “That’s all we can ask for, Princey. And uh, let me know if you need help catching any rogue versions of us, okay?”

Roman just nods dumbly as Virgil waves and walks out of his room.

He glances at the door to the Imagination, still firmly shut.

Huh.

———

“Hey, Virgil?”

Virgil takes out a headphone. “What’s up, Princey?”

“Have you seen Remus anywhere?”

“He said he was spending the day with the Kraken brood.” Virgil frowns. “Why, something wrong?”

“Well, he told me he was doing that too and there’s currently a Remus on top of the fridge doing his best to replace the water in the ice maker with slime.”

“What the—oh. Oh, is this one of the—okay. Yeah, what d’you need?”

“I think he’s only going to respond to your tempest tongue and I can’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you.”

Virgil tucks his phone into his pocket and sets his headphones on the bed as he follows Roman down to the kitchen. Sure enough, there’s a Remus perched on top of the fridge, cackling wildly with his hands full of what looks like a blended version of Slimer from Ghostbusters.

“Remus,” Virgil calls, many-layered voice getting the little gremlin’s attention, “get down from there.”

Remus pouts somehow while still cackling and lobs a handful of goo at them. Roman quickly summons an umbrella and blocks it.

“Remus,” Virgil warns, “don’t make me come up there.”

Remus just cackles louder.

“Alright, you asked for it.”

He closes his eyes and concentrates for a few seconds, growing two feet taller and reaching up to scoop Remus up like a feral raccoon. He screeches, goo still saying everywhere, as Roman quickly grabs Virgil’s shoulder and sinks them out to his room. Virgil blinks, adjusting to the quick change, and Roman waves at him frantically by the open door.

“Chuck him in!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!”

One gooey, cackling Remus later, Roman slams the door shut and lets out a sigh, reaching out to poof away the remaining slime.

“Oh, that’s sick. Can you clean everything like that?”

“No, just the Imagination messes. Thanks for your help.”

“Eh, no problem. Used to have to do that when we were younger anyway.”

“…ah. I see.”

Virgil looks at him oddly when Roman suddenly appears to deflate, only to realize that Roman didn’t get to grow up with Remus. “Oh, hey, I didn’t mean—“

“No, no, it’s quite alright. We’re…well, I suppose we’re making up for lost time now. I certainly wouldn’t’ve known to just…” He makes a picking-up gesture with his arms. “How long have you been able to grow like that?”

“I think it’s a fight-or-flight thing.”

“Got it.”

There are a few moments of awkward silence.

“Well, I should let you get back to…what were you doing?”

“Oh, I was watching this show on Netflix. It’s called My Name.”

“Wait, is that the one about the girl whose father gets killed in the first episode and then she goes on this whole journey to try and find who was responsible?”

“Yeah, ‘ve you heard of it?”

“I was going to try and watch it! What episode are you on?”

“Uh…episode two. I’m not that far into it yet. But there’s only, like, six episodes or something.”

“Would you—would you want to watch it with me? Not like together, together, but—like a book club sort of thing?”

Virgil is not going to helplessly smile at how cute Roman is when he’s all eager, he’s not. “Sure. That’d be fun.”

He is going to smile when Roman grins so wide it looks like his face must hurt.

———

“Therapy isn’t enough,” Virgil announces as he strides into Roman’s room, “I need to be weird about that old man.”

Roman chuckles and looks up from where he is at his desk, typing away at his computer. “So you watched the next episode, huh?”

“Look, I don’t know why he insists on making everything as dramatic as possible, but he does and it works for him.”

“So this is about that scene where he just rips his shirt halfway open for no reason, huh?”

“For no reason? Excuse me?” Virgil flops on Roman’s bed. “It is his gay-given right to be that dramatic and it’s working for him.”

“Seems like it’s working for you too.”

“Don’t act like you’re above it, you spent twenty minutes waxing poetic about how the framing around him sitting in his office chair was poetic cinema.”

“Yes, because I’m a storyteller and I can appreciate the use of framing in film and television to contribute to said story.”

“Uh-huh. How’s the writing going over there?”

“Don’t talk to me or my Untitled Document (1) ever again.”

Virgil laughs, head lolling back against the pillows as Roman shakes his head in mock sternness. “He’s so gone for him.”

“Who is? The assistant for him or him for the dead guy?”

“Yes.”

“You’re correct and you should say it.” He squints at the screen. “Wait, what’s a gender-neutral term for parent?”

A pause, then the rustle of fabric. “I want you to repeat what you just said to yourself.”

Roman does. “I might be stupid.”

“‘Might be,’ he says.”

“Shut up.”

“What’s the word I’m looking for that is like the exact word I’m looking for?”

“Leave me alone.”

Another laugh from behind him as he continues trying to type. But the thought of actually having Virgil here to talk about something they’re both watching is a lot more tempting than working on this idea that isn’t even due for a few more weeks anyway. He chews on his lip for a second before saving his work and closing it down. He did have more than half of it completed, thank you very much.

He turns around, seeing Virgil sprawled over his bed like it’s his own, scrolling on his phone, and just takes a moment to look.

Virgil looks…happy. It’s a good look on him.

“When you’re done staring at me, I got a post to show you.”

“What is it?”

“Slow-motion GIFs of that moment.”

“Move over, then.”

———

By this point, when Roman asks him for help with wrangling an escaped version of one of them, they can do it while having a conversation.

“I followed one of the main blogs in the fandom yesterday,” Virgil says as he grabs two of a Janus’s arms. “They followed me back.”

“Oh, really?” Roman grabs two more and starts hauling him toward the Imagination, deftly knocking aside a swinging cane. “You got to mutual status that quickly?”

“They said they liked my meta posts. Gave you credit, of course—“

“As you should.”

“—but yeah, they seem cool. It’s weird, I know it’s not like actually having a celebrity you can interact with, but it’s like—“

“It’s like being relatively famous just by having them know you. Do you think they’re laughing at your silly little jokes every morning,” Roman teases as they get the squirming noodle to the door, “while they’re having breakfast?”

“Thank goodness, maybe they’ll spare me when the cops come to kill all of us.”

“Or a rival gang.”

They shove the weird version of Janus back into the Imagination and shake themselves off. Roman picks up a piece of paper and jots it down.

“Is it just me,” Virgil mutters, “or are they getting…weirder?”

“This is the first real weird one you’ve seen.”

“That has some implications that I do not like.”

“Uh-huh.” Roman shudders. “Just you wait. They’ll get weirder.”

“Is it too late to back out of this?”

“No. I can stop asking you if you want.”

Virgil reaches out and knuckles Roman’s shoulder. “I’m kidding. I couldn’t leave you to deal with all of that on your own.”

Roman doesn’t look at him for a moment, fiddling with the fingers on one hand. “I dunno, it’s just…this is pretty much a direct result of me not being able to deal with my own problems by myself, so…I would understand if you wanted to stop having to deal with them.”

Virgil looks at him for a moment. Then, out of nowhere, he says: “you know, sometimes I struggle with feeling useful.”

Roman whips his head around. “What?”

“Well, you guys come up with ideas, I’m only here to…point out the problems. Not that I’m not saying that’s not useful, but like…I gotta wait until you do all your work before I can even think about doing mine, do you get what I mean?”

“I believe so…Virgil, you—“

“So when you ask me for help with this,” Virgil says, speaking smoothly over him, “it makes me feel useful. This…this helps me too.”

Roman stops, staring at him in something that’s almost wonder. “It does?”

“Yeah, Princey. We—we’re all damaged in some way. We just gotta find someone else whose damage is compatible with ours.”

Roman blinks a few times as a slow smile spreads across his face. “Why, Virgil. That was almost poetic.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really, I’d love to see what you could write—“

“Shut up!”

———

“Hey, Roman?”

Roman looks up from his desk. “What’s up?”

Virgil shifts his weight from side to side. “Can we—this is a stupid question.”

“I’ve adjusted my expectations accordingly.” He shuts his laptop and turns to face him. “What can I do for you?”

“Can…can we go into the Imagination?” When Roman pauses for a moment, he quickly keeps going. “It’s just—I know I see it a bit when we throw the others back in and there’s not really a big difference and it’s all what you make of it but I just—you know what? Never mind. This was stupid.”

“No, no—“ Roman quickly stands up to catch Virgil’s elbow as he turns to leave— “no, Virgil, it’s not stupid. I’d love to take you to the Imagination.”

“You…you would?”

“Yeah. Do you wanna go now?”

“Aren’t you busy?”

“Mindlessly scrolling, that’s it. Come on,” he coaxes, leading Virgil back toward the door, “it’ll be fun.”

Virgil keeps watching him warily until Roman manages to get them through the door. He closes it firmly behind them as Virgil stares around at the field they find themselves in, littered with wildflowers and grassy hills as it stretches out almost endlessly in front of them.

“…whoa.”

“Do you like it?”

“Princey, this is…this is fucking pretty.”

Unbelievably, Roman feels himself start to blush. “You like it?”

“Fuck—yeah, Roman. This is—how do you not spend all of your time here?”

“Well, it gets a little boring just staring at fields of flowers forever, and sometimes—“

As if on cue, a massive bank of thunderclouds rolls in overhead and it begins to rain.

“Sometimes it does that,” Roman sighs, already turning back to the Imagination door, “I’m sorry, I really can’t predict those, they just happen sometimes. Come on, you can borrow something dry, I don’t…”

He trails off when he notices Virgil’s not next to him. He looks back.

Virgil stands in the middle of the flowers, his head tilted back toward the sky. The purple-black of his hoodie almost perfectly matches the purple-black of the clouds. His eyes close, feeling the rain on his face, hands slightly outstretched as if to welcome it. He looks—he looks—he—

Oh.

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I—can I kiss you?”

Virgil looks at him and chuckles. “Getting real cliché, huh, Princey? Was this your plan?”

“N-no, not necessarily, I—wait, what? You’re not surprised?”

“I’m kinda surprised you asked first, but you are Romance.”

“You—you—“ Roman blinks. “Wait, you want to kiss me too?”

Virgil just grins and walks up to him.

“Hi,” he murmurs as he kisses Roman, both of their eyes fluttering shut as the rain pours over them.

Roman doesn’t need to worry about this not being the real Virgil. He’d never be capable of Imagining something as incredible as this.

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