#search Trying too hard Thomas sanders

[loganslowdown4]

Once again thinking about this—

God THE POSES

The poses are so👏good👏

Just that little tiny detail for being sanders sides adjacent but not sides enough to detract from the whole of this video

hhhhhhhh

the simplicity! but there’s so MUCH in there! it’s saying SO MUCH! aaaaaa

[candied-peach]

tagged by: @stilledbrain

rules: shuffle your liked songs playlist & post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people.

palaye royale "anxiety"

rain paris "slumber party"

nf "the search"

deathbyromy "i feel like a god"

corpse "white tee"

aviators "godhunter"

tx2 "degrade me"

sofia isella "hot gum"

artimus wolz "saddy daddy-o"

thomas sanders "trying too hard"

tagging uhhhh @haunted-house-heart @treeni @edupunkn00b @typically-untypical @mostcertainlynotcis and anybody else?? idk lmao

[residentfangirl2104]

Falling for your words

Read on AO3

Pairing: Logan/Roman, Romantic Logince

Summary: So Roman has started using extremely fancy and complicated words all of a sudden, no big deal. Sure, he happens to stare at Logan pretty much immediately afterwards, every single time he uses one of them. That doesn't mean anything, and it certainly does not make Logan's heart flutter. Logan might be absolutely transfixed by his words, but that was pure curiosity and nothing else.

Right?

Logan first noticed it in the middle of a meeting with all the sides and Thomas about filming. They were discussing ideas for their next video outside of the Sanders Sides series, and Roman was particularly eager on a medieval fantasy comedy skit, complete with a castle setting and royal crown.

“Roman, we can’t rent out an actual castle.” Thomas said with a frown.

“Yeah, I don’t think you even need me to point out everything wrong with that.” Virgil added.

Roman huffed. “Yes, I suppose that was an asinine idea. A sequel to ‘Gay Disney Prince’, then?”

The discussion veered away, but Logan couldn’t help but reel over Roman using the word asinine. He discarded it as a one-time thing, Roman happening upon a new word and wanting to use it in conversation for once.

The second time he noticed it, they were in the commons, Logan reading a book, Roman hunched over his notebook. He looked up from it every now and then to look at something Virgil was showing him - a playlist? A tumblr post? Logan would be hard pressed to know something those two both enjoyed, with the exception of Disney. Patton bounded into the room, as if searching for something.

“Hey, Padre, looking for something?”

“Oh, I was just trying to find the leftover pieces from the pizza that we ate yesterday. You kiddos look like you’re having fun - could I have a slice of that too?”

Logan groaned, Virgil looked between laughing and grimacing, and even Roman wrinkled his nose. “Not your best work, Pat, but I commend the ebullience.”

Patton and Virgil both seemed unperturbed, chattering on about pizza toppings. Roman snuck a glance at Logan, then immediately looked away when he realized the latter had caught him looking. Was imagining the red on Roman’s cheeks? Logan was unable to look away for a while, both confused and impressed at the sudden eloquence of the same man who thought “doo doo” was a good insult.

“Yes, ebullience.” Logan murmured, unable to shake the unidentifiable feeling that had latched onto him all of a sudden.

A rare clever streak. A one - no - two-time thing. Logan chided himself for being so fixated at something so infinitesimal, so completely irrelevant. There was no need to overthink it; it was just happenstance.

Except it happened again. And again. And again.

“-maelstrom-”

“-circumlocution-”

“-obfuscate-”

“-inimitable-”

Logan began looking forward to these moments, or any conversations with Roman. Every time he thought he held the upper hand in the conversation, Roman would swoop in and completely debilitate him with yet another verbose set of vocabulary that could only have been picked out of a Dickens novel. It would be a blatant lie to say that Logan wasn't incredibly impressed by it. He knew firsthand that it was a difficult feat to not only learn so many new and difficult words but also utilize them in conversation; Logan had to admire his drive.

It was exhilarating, too, having Roman throw challenge after challenge at him, whether that was intentional or not. Logan knew, in theory, that one could not “win a conversation”; he also did not care, because he was clearly losing, and if there was one thing Logan couldn't stand it was failure.

What confused him further was the furtive glances Roman would send him every time he used one of those words. 'Inexorable' was followed by a piercing look, 'ubiquitous' with a curious peek at Logan as though to gauge his reaction. 'Adulation' was spoken with almost direct eye-contact and a light blush, which Logan forced himself not to look too far into. That was a place he couldn't allow his mind to go to, because the moment he did his heart began racing and his stomach felt light and fluttery, and things like that could hardly be anything but symptoms for some sort of affliction. Logan had a sneaking suspicion what that affliction was, but he pushed the thought aside, buried it down where it could no longer intimidate him.

However, not allowing his mind to think too much about Roman, was a tough ask, because he was beginning to hyperfixate on this whole situation, but just a little. Only a miniscule amount, of course. That was why he was sitting in his room listing everything he knew so as to get to the bottom of it. So far, all he had in the small notebook was:

Despite being extremely dramatic and poetic, Roman has never been particularly verbose in the dictionary sense

The words he has taken to using are rather uncharacteristic of him, far more scientific than his usual mode of communication

He no longer asks the meaning of words such as "preposterous"

He attempts to make out my reaction every time he uses such sesquipedalian words

After some thought, he scratched the last point out - it seemed rather presumptuous. Who was to say that Roman was trying to gauge his reaction in particular, or that he didn't do the same with all of the others? Logan couldn't assume to have been there every single time he dropped a large vocabulary word.

After staring at his own writing for what could be either a few minutes or a few hours, Logan gave up and slammed the notebook shut. It was unlike him to be so preoccupied with others' behaviour, to the point that it interfered with his regular schedule; what had happened? Why did this matter so much? Logan wasn't sure whether the answer to that question was unknown to him, or he did subconsciously know it and chose to push it aside.

Well. Maybe some mysteries were better left unsolved.

*****

"Has anyone seen Roman?" Patton was anxiously chewing his lip. The sides were eating at the dining table, with the exception of Remus, who preferred to eat cross-legged on the floor. Which would be tame for him, if he wasn't also literally eating off the floor, slurping spaghetti that he'd thrown straight (gay) from the plate onto the ground.

Logan had noticed Roman's absence, but abstained from commenting on it, in case there was some reason he was unaware of. Janus spoke up before he had the opportunity to.

"He didn't shut himself away in his room all evening. I don't think that he's working on something. A new story, maybe?"

"He does tend to completely lose all sense of reality and time when he's working on one of his stories," Virgil chimed in.

"Should I go check on him? To make sure he doesn't forget to eat." Logan asked.

Patton nodded, looking pleased. "If he really wants to stay there, would you take him a plate to his room so he at least eats something?"

Logan grabbed a plate of spaghetti and made his way to Roman's door. He knocked on the gold-star spangled white door. Receiving no reply, he cautiously pushed the door open.

He was greeted with the sight of an empty room, and a desk covered with what appeared to be...notecards? Flashcards? The door to the Imagination that was situated right beside the door to the bathroom (Roman complained far too much about mixing those two up at inconvenient times.) stood slightly ajar. He was about to head in that direction, when one of the flashcards caught his eye.

Ebullience:

Noun

The quality of being cheerful and energetic.

Pieces began to fit themselves together in Logan's brain. Putting the plate down, he reached for the flashcards, his curiosity overriding the part of his mind that insisted that this was unethical and an invasion of Roman's privacy.

Obfuscate.

Asinine.

Incorrigible.

Serendipity.

Words upon words were etched in Roman's curling handwriting, some that even Logan didn't know (not that he would ever admit it.) Roman's abrupt change in vocabulary suddenly made far more sense; in a way, these were the complete inverse of Logan's own vocab cards. He still couldn't figure out why Roman hadn't shown them the cards, but he supposed the other had his own reasons. He was suddenly gripped by guilt for going through Roman's things while he wasn't present. Which would normally be enough to stop him, but his eyes caught onto another word.

Logan:

That card was buried underneath many others, that single heading word visible through a gap. He could almost feel his metaphorical heartbeat quicken as he tentatively picked it up, which was impossible and unrealistic and- and so definitely happening because Logan so definitely had feelings he did not understand.

The description underneath the word was as abstract as it was cryptic. Unlike all the others, it wasn't explanatory or precise or scientific; it felt much more like Roman, actually.

Noun.

Indescribable. Indefinable, because to define is to limit in words, and he is beyond words and beyond language.

It was as though Logan had been assembling the puzzle that was Roman's mind, and he had almost completed it, but just as he moved to place the last piece, it didn't fit. It was as though he suddenly realized that he had the picture all wrong in the first place; the image wasn't what he thought it was, and he had been working on false assumptions the whole time. The puzzle fell apart, and Logan had no idea what to make of it.

It was then - perfectly timed, of course - for the subject of his thoughts to gallivant out of the door to the Imagination and freeze at the sight of Logan in his room.

"...Logan?"

Jerking back at the sound of his name, he fumbled with the cards in his hand, torn between pushing them all back where they were, and holding them even closer to his chest. He ended up somewhere in between, caught putting a handful of cards down with his right hand, while still cradling a single card to his chest with his left.

“Roman!" Logan cleared his throat, desperately trying to regain some semblance of professionalism - a futile endeavor. "I mean, Roman. I was looking for you.” He noticed Roman’s hands clasping a thick dictionary.

Roman’s eyes scanned the desk, and finally fell on the card in Logan’s hands. “Oh, I see you found my vocabulary flash cards!”

“Uh, yes. Why…er, why do you have them? Not that there's anything wrong with them, it is a rather efficient means of learning.” He added hastily.

“Why…well, psh .” Roman chuckled nervously, waving his hand in an attempt to appear casual. “Because, uh, words. And, um, vocabulary, that’s important. And vocabulary words, those are absolutely invigorating. So…” he trailed off.

Logan gave him an unconvinced look. “Roman.”

“Pocket Protector.”

Logan sighed and, ignoring the building nervousness in his chest, extended his hand to show Roman the flash card. Roman’s eyes widened when he read what it said, his expression turning abashed.

"I...okay, fine. I've been trying to use more and more complicated words in conversation because you seem to appreciate them and I...wantedtoimpressyou."

Logan frowned, not quite catching the last bit of speech. "What?"

"I wanted to impress you, Logan. When I used the word iridescent in conversation, you complimented me. You sounded so proud." Roman's eyes were on the floor, his thumbs twitching and fiddling.

"Oh." Was all Logan could manage. Because suddenly, the puzzle fell into place, and Logan could see the whole picture. Suddenly everything made sense, and consequently, the door into his own mind, which he had kept firmly closed until then, blasted open.

Roman flushed a deep red. "Is that...is that a good oh or a bad oh?"

"It- I- why?"

Roman furrowed his eyebrows. "Which why is it this time?"

Logan gestured wildly in the air with his hands. "Why do you care what I think? Why did you want to...impress me?"

Roman sighed. "Okay, I'm going to need the cards for this. Uh...you must allow me to tell you how ardently- wait, no, that's just Pride and Prejudice. My feelings are of a passionate- no. The crux of the matter is, I harbor amorous feelings for you."

Logan blinked, lost. "What?"

"I like you, Logan!" He finally blurted out. "Like...romantically. I mean, I know you're not big on feelings, and this isn't an attempt to… woo you or anything. So you needn't worry about that. I just really like you, and admire you, and I wanted you to notice me. I wanted you to see me as more than a minor annoyance, or someone who scarcely knows the meaning of the word 'preposterous' . You're just so... cool , and smart, and I wanted you to think I was smart too."

Logan's breathing and heartbeat had sped up to a point that would be rather concerning under normal circumstances. As it was, these weren't normal circumstances, and at the moment he couldn't think about anything besides the words that Roman had only just vocalized. That, and the overwhelming emotion that rose inside his chest, in both the best and worst possible way. He felt an irrational urge to simultaneously laugh and cry, so he did the next best thing. He reached out, taking Roman's hands in his.

"You are smart. And kind, and creative, and so much more. I..." Logan trailed off, unable to put it into words. He finally knew why Roman had said he needed his flashcards - he, too, felt the urge to reach into his pocket and somehow find some pre-written words that made sense of the furore of voices that clamoured in his mind.

"I need the cards." He said finally.

Roman perked up and extended the stack of cards towards him, but he gently pushed it back.

"Mine, I meant. You speak that kind of language, don't you?"

Roman shrugged. "I think you might be the only one who doesn't - no offense."

Logan ignored him, sifting through his flashcards instead. "I, er... I happen to be a simp for you, Roman."

Roman blinked. His expression then changed from one of utter shock, to barely-repressed laughter.

"I used it wrong, didn't I?" Logan said forlornly.

"No, that's not it at all! I promise I'm not laughing at you, I just…" he trailed off, grinning helplessly.

Logan rolled his eyes. "I ought to have just used your cards instead. I could have avoided all of...this," he said, gesturing to Roman's face.

"No, I'm glad you didn't. I'm not smiling because it's funny, I'm smiling because…a prince is allowed to be happy when the object of his affections reciprocates!"

Logan couldn't help the smile that came onto his face at that. "I mean, absolutely. Of course he is." He began to laugh, softly, and Roman joined in. Roman wasn't nearly as soft or restrained as him, but every snort endeared him to Logan more. As the giddy laughter finally died down, Logan caught Roman's eyes, which were sparkling with a light all of their own.

"Can I kiss you?" Roman blurted out suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I would be quite amenable to that." Logan said rather breathlessly.

Roman leaned forward and captured Logan's lips, his hand coming up to cup Logan's cheek. Logan's stomach filled with a giddy fluttering, almost as though a thousand hypothetical butterflies had suddenly taken flight inside it. He wouldn't have noticed if the walls and roof crumbled down upon them. All he cared about, all that existed was the two of them, locked in a moment that lasted for an eternal second.

Pulling back, Roman gave him a smile that held so many multitudes of happiness that Logan's heart melted. He had a feeling (and wasn't that new) that there was a soft, yet unshakeable smile on his own lips as well.

"If that's what it means to be simp for you, I regret absolutely nothing."

Roman fought a snicker, then finally gave up and began giggling. "Okay, so maybe this time I'm laughing because it's funny."

"You are incorrigible."

"Yes, but you love it." Roman wrinkled his nose adorably.

"See, I know you think you really did something, but I'm just overjoyed that you know what incorrigible means."

"Yes, that deadpan says overjoyed like no other expression."

"Smiling is overrated." Logan failed to fight back his smile as he said it. "Did I use that word right?"

"Oh, absolutely impeccably." Roman grinned cheekily.

"In all seriousness, however, you know you do not need those vocabulary cards, right? Even if I do not always say or show it, I think you're incredibly clever in your own way. See, intelligence is hardly as binary a factor as so many believe, and purely academics or any other similarly arbitrary factor is not enough to define one’s intellect-” He stopped himself at the rapt look on Roman’s face. “I got sidetracked again, didn’t I?”

Roman grinned. “Yes, but I don't mind. You’re so interesting. I mean, I have no clue what you were saying, but still.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop the fond smile on his lips. “What I was trying to say is, you are plenty clever with or without all of your grandiloquent words.”

“That- thank you.” Logan reminded himself to compliment Roman more often, especially if every time he did so resulted in him turning scarlet and floundering in that adorably flustered way. “I just like using big words, though. They have so much… pizzazz.”

Logan snorted. “Well, I would never even contemplate taking away your, pizzazz. ”

Then Roman wrinkled his nose in mock offense, and how could Logan not kiss him? They almost crashed their noses together. Roman couldn’t stop laughing into the kiss, and Logan nearly slipped on Roman’s floor, but none of that could dampen the overwhelming warmth in Logan's heart; if anything, it just made it burn brighter.

"Oh, I almost forgot. The reason I had come here was to see why you hadn't come to dinner."

"Wait, is it that late already?" Roman looked down and noticed the plate perched on the edge of the desk. "Aww, and you brought me a plate of spaghetti! You do care!"

"What do you think this entire conversation has- you know what, never mind. Would you like to eat here, or come to the dining table with everyone else? I think Patton was missing you, but I do have to warn you that the sight of Remus slurping spaghetti off the floor doesn't exactly do wonders for one's appetite."

Roman grinned. "I wouldn't be opposed to going to the living room. Who else is going to make fun of Remus for his abysmal table - or well, floor manners?"

Logan frowned. "Virgil was doing that plenty. Janus was certainly enjoying the roasts, even if he didn't join in."

"Okay, I amend my statement. How ever , I will still absolutely destroy him verbally, because that's fun. I wish I could get him to accidentally snort it or spill marinara sauce on his clothes, but I honestly think he would enjoy that."

"Incredibly mature."

"Thank you dear, I try."

Logan attempted to not blush at the pet name, failed at said attempt, and resorted instead to taking Roman's hand and gently pulling him in the direction of the living room. Grabbing the plate of spaghetti, Roman followed him out and the noise of their banter echoed through the hall. On the desk, the vocabulary flashcards lay scattered, one teetering on the top of the pile, its contents clearer than all the others'.

Enamoured:

Verb.

To be filled with love.

[many-but-one]

I am curious to see if Moon Knight means the MCU will finally address that Banner and the Hulk are part of a DID system too. The movies only focus on those two usually, and there are more, from Joe Fixit to Doc Green.

Hello! Thanks for your ask. This is Jules speaking with Foster co-con.

I am going to be honest, I am not extremely entrenched in the Marvel community. I really don't know a lot about the MCU either. I was really into it early on, but after Captain America: The Winter Soldier, I kinda fell out of the fandom. I haven't even seen the last two Avengers movies in full, just bits and pieces, and I've seen a couple of other movies, but not any after those last two Avengers movies.

I feel like I can't really comment on the fact that Bruce Banner and the Hulk are a DID system because I don't know everything about his backstory. From what I can gather about the first Incredible Hulk movie that I saw like YEARS ago, the Hulk is a product of gamma radiation poisoning of some kind. Which...doesn't make him and Bruce Banner a DID system. DID is caused by repetitive childhood trauma before the ages of 7-9 (ish). Bruce Banner underwent all of this as an adult, which makes it impossible for him and The Hulk to be a system, scientifically, in our "real world" knowledge. Of course things can be different in the Marvel universe, systems might work differently there, but applying knowledge from our world, it would not make them a system. If I was going to try and put an understanding between their relationship, I would say that it's complicated. Bruce's body changes biologically, and from what I can gather, they are different entities with different consciousness. (Evidenced by Bruce not really remembering what Hulk does when he is manipulating the body.) I feel like to call them a DID system is a stretch, but there's definitely something similar to a system going on. I just wouldn't really call it DID simply because of the fact that The Hulk was not created through childhood trauma, which is what constitutes DID.

But a quick google search of the other two (not much reading, just looking through some stuff) it kinda shows that there's more to it than the two that the movies focus on, like you said. In all honesty, I'd have to read the comics to really gain an understanding of it all, and I just don't care enough about it to do so. To me it sounds like the Joe Fixit character is quite negative (evil alter trope) and the Doc Green is a result of a virus being put into Bruce? I'm not sure if I read that right. These all feel more like alter egos (like in a Markiplier or Thomas Sanders situation) rather than distinct personalities, but like I said, I'd have to do more research and it's just not something I'm passionate about enough to put the work into doing so. (If I'm not interested in a subject I literally cannot research it. Haha ADHD whatup.)

As for if the MCU is going to acknowledge the Bruce Banner "system" it's hard to say. From what I've heard, Moon Knight is "okay" representation. Not bad, but not accurate to the disorder at all. I saw a gif of the host guy, Stephen? (Might not be spelling that right) I think his name is, begging the Marc alter to take the body. While that can be accurate in some cases, (I sometimes ask other alters to take the body if I'm overwhelmed) controlled switching in DID is massively hard, and if you do have a controlled FAST switch it usually has effects to it, like severe headaches or even lightheadedness or sickness. Not to mention there needs to be seriously good communication between alters, alters usually have to be co-con, and usually a gatekeeper alter or an alter that controls switching has to help. (If a system has one of those.) Another weird thing I've heard about are the talking to alters in the mirror thing. I understand it as a narrative piece to show alter communication, but that's just putting ideas into non-system folks' heads making them think we talk to alters in the mirror. It's just not accurate. I understand they can't have perfectly accurate representation simply because it would not be nearly as exciting—DID systems are not as exciting as non-systems seem to think they are. But they are really toeing the line between accuracy and making things up to make it cooler. Which can honestly be harmful in it's own way. Diminishing the hard reality of DID. It's a trauma disorder and is not fun to live with. Of course it sounds like Stephen is going through the wringer, but not in the "I'm going through a trauma disorder" kind of way more in the "I'm possessed by other personalities" kind of way, which is...ehhh...kinda problematic.

So unless they used a director that is aware and sensitive to the reality of DID and how harmful it can be to show negative stereotypes of the disorder, I feel like they could really just fuck it up massively. We really do not need another Split situation. Of course more representation would be dope, but it has to be good representation, and I feel like unless they're going to hire a REALLY good director who understands the importance of positive representation of a stigmatized disorder, it could really just end up being a clusterfuck. Considering Marvel has hired Joss Whedon in the past, I don't have a lot of hope in them casting someone that won't sensationalize the disorder or use shitty tropes to tell a "more interesting" story.

That's all I got! Hope that answered your inquiry!

-Jules & Foster (co-con)

[stillebesat]

A Mini’s Pep Talk

December Drabbles Day 7 Sanders Sides: Roman, Mini-Virgil (not Virgil himself just a mini version of him)  Blurb: It shouldn’t surprise Roman, at this point, that on top of an already no good really really bad day he ends up getting attacked by another Side’s Mini-Me while looking for his own. (Takes place after SVS Redux) Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort, Mindscape!AU, Mini-Me!AU, Overall Fic Warnings: Negative Self Talk, Small Injury mention  Taglist in Reblog.

It was no use. Roman exhaled, cautiously pulling open the door to his room a crack so he could peer outside. He’d ransacked his bedroom a good dozen times and his Mini-Me was nowhere to be found.

Just. Perfect.

The grand cherry on top after an already bad day.

We love you. 

Roman hunched his shoulders, well aware that his appearance with his pjs and messed up hair was hardly Princely as he slipped outside and tip-toed past the Others’ rooms. 

“Kingsley.” He hissed, wary of waking up everyone else as he moved down the stairs, phone in hand to act like a flashlight as he shone it over the darkened living room looking for his Mini-Me. “I really really don’t have the energy for this!” 

Of all the days--nights for the scaredy-cat to get it into his head to grow a spine, did he really have to do so at 4 am after Roman had been awake since six trying to get something worthwhile completed after yesterday’s--

We love you. 

He growled, running a hand through his hair before dropping to his knees to peer underneath the couches for the tiny figure dressed in red. “Why do you do this to me?” Surely, the others didn’t have this much trouble with their own mini-selfs. 

If they had mini-selfs to deal with. 

At this point, with all the stupid mistakes he kept making, all the lies he kept believing, it wouldn’t surprise Roman to discover that he was the only Side broken enough to have a mini version of himself manifest as a companion to him. 

A mini version that, despite being scared of his own shadow most days, had decided to leave the safety of Roman’s room and vanish. 

We love you. 

Roman sat up with a shaky sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face to ensure no betraying tears had left his eyes as he looked around the living room, searching for likely spots for his pocket sized self to hide in. “Kingsley.” He called out softly, without much hope of receiving an answer. 

He should just face the facts.

Logan would love that. 

Roman made a face as he pushed numbly to his feet, moving to the kitchen to check the lower cabinets. 

Fact. Kingsley was a scaredy-cat. 

Fact. Kingsley wasn’t in his room.

Fact. Roman had been denounced as a bad guy.

Roman clenched his hands, breath hitching as he turned to the fridge. 

Fact. Kingsley was scared of villains.

Fact. Kingsley was nowhere to be found.

Fact. Kingsley didn’t want Roman to find him.

Perhaps...perhaps it was for the best for his mini-self to have left. He--He deserved a-a better--better Si--

I thought I was your hero. 

Roman grimaced, slumping against the fridge, grabbing onto the top edge to keep him from collapsing to the ground. “Kingsley.” He choked out, closing his eyes. No. It was probably for the best. To..to end things here. “I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t even know how he’d wronged the little guy. But obviously he’d screwed up. Again. Some more. He’d add it to the list. Because obviously Kingsley had heard how much like Remus Roman truly was. How much of a villain he could be.

He’d probably feared for his life and fled. 

“Geez. Stop with the waterworks.” An unfamiliar voice said, just before something sharp stabbed his fingers.

Roman yelped, jerking his hand away from the top of the fridge as he stumbled backwards only to stupidly trip over his own feet and send himself crashing to the tile floor with a loud thud. 

He groaned, closing his eyes. Well, there went being quiet. 

There was a flutter of feathers before a light weight landed on his chest, stalking up to his chin and poking him. “Knights are supposed to not give up without a fight. What’s wrong with you?” The voice demanded.

Roman made a face. What was wrong with him? Where to start? The fact that he was so pathetic that he’d been scared by someone else’s Mini-Me? 

He tilted his head to glare at the tiny person on his chest, only to freeze, heart skipping a beat at seeing a familiar patchwork jacket and dark eye shadow under the eyes. 

A Mini Virgil.

Great. He let his head fall back with a soft thunk on the cold tile, mentally cursing as he ran his thumb over his sore finger tips. “Did you stab me with a toothpick?” 

“No, I bit you.” Mini V retorted jumping up onto Roman’s face, landing on his nose, brilliant white wings flashing in the light of his phone as he kept them half spread. “You honestly think I could stab your fingers all at the same time with a single toothpick?” 

Well...no. “You can’t exactly bite them all at the same time either.” He said, failing to keep the growl from his voice, glaring up at the Mini. “And as you’ve already noticed.” Why did Virgil’s Mini have wings? Kingsley had nothing like that. “I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. So sorry for not thinking it through. Try Logan next time.”  

The wings fluttered as Mini V narrowed his eyes. “He’s not the one sobbing in the kitchen in the middle of the night.” 

“Yes, I’m a pathetic excuse for a Side, you don’t need to tell me twice.” Roman shot back, raising his hand palm up towards the Mini. “Get off my face before I sneeze you off.” 

V gave the hand a look of disgust before he jumped, wings beating in the air to keep him hovering in place as Roman pushed up onto one elbow. “What is wrong with you? Knights don’t--”

Oh, for the love of Crofters! He didn’t need another person telling him off. “I’m not a Knight!” He interrupted shoving to his feet. “I’m not a Prince. I’m not a Hero.” He spread his arms wide, a bitter smile on his lips as Mini V backed up a good foot from him, eyes wide. “I’m a freaking Nobody who has no place here because no matter what I do, no matter what I say, no matter what choice I pick to try and help Thomas achieve his dreams, it’s always the wrong choice because the bloody RULES KEEP CHANGING!” He yelled, jabbing a finger at the Mini.

V visibly swallowed, wings fluttering as fast as a hummingbird’s. “Roman?” He whispered, a faint squeak to the end of his voice. 

And there he was. Messing things up again. Being the freaking evil twin. Roman slumped, feeling the weight of a mountain settling on his shoulders. “Just--just forget it.” He turned from the frozen Mini, chest twisting with a hollow ache from how he’d just gone off on the little guy. He didn’t deserve that. Especially not for their first meeting. 

Though maybe it was par for the course...considering how awful he’d been to Virgil for most of their lives--it wasn’t like his Mini would have a high opinion of him anyways. 

Roman exhaled, closing his eyes as he crossed his arms. Coward. He couldn’t even face the Mini like a true man. “I’m sorry. You didn’t--I shouldn’t have...gone off like that.” 

If anything it proved that locking himself up in his room for the foreseeable future was the best course of action. 

Especially since yesterday’s debacle with Deci--Janus had already proved that he was a screw up through and through. 

Wrong was Right. Right was Wrong. 

Be Mean to Anxiety because he’s a Bad Guy. 

No. Be Nice to Virgil because he’s actually a Good Guy. 

Be Nice To Deceit because if Virgil was a Good Guy then Deceit could be a Good Guy too despite acting like a Bad Guy. 

No. Be Mean to Deceit because Deceit is Bad. 

No wait, be Nice to freaking Janus because Deceit isn’t actually the Bad Guy after all. 

No. Now Roman was the Bad Guy. Dece-Janus the Hero of the day.

His darkest fear come true. 

It was all topsy-turvy and Roman had been wound up so much through it all that he no longer knew which way was up.

If there was even an up in the first place.  

“Hey.” 

Roman hunched his shoulders, ducking his head as V darted in front of him to block his path out of the kitchen. “It’d probably be best to go back to Virge if you want a True Knight.” He muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not--” 

“Dude!” 

Roman flinched, breath hitching as the Mini landed on his shoulder, wing brushing his cheek before a warm hand grabbed onto his earlobe and tugged hard enough he had to tilt his head to avoid getting it torn off.  

“I will say this as many times as you need to hear it to get rid of whatever earworm is tunneling through your mind right now.” V hissed. “You. Are. Creativity. If you don’t like who you are now, then Change.”

“Change?” Roman repeated like the concept was foreign to him as he eyed the Mini from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t. He just-- 

V huffed, tugging Roman’s ear one more time before he jumped off his shoulder to hover in front of his face. “No one said you had to stick to one role your entire life, Roman.” He gestured towards the staircase. “If that were the case, Virgiepoo wouldn’t have had his little Acceptance Arc with you guys.” 

No, they would still be enemies. Anxiety the Villain. Though really with how awful he’d been to Virge--Roman grimaced. “Yes, but--” 

“But nothing.” V tapped his nose, leaning forward until Roman had to take a step back or else go cross-eyed. “You’re not a hero? Fine. You’re not a prince? Fine. You’re not a Knight--well that sucks because they’re rather cool--”

Roman couldn’t help but smile a little bit at that. They were cool. It was why he’d been one for so long.

V smiled back, shrugging a shoulder. “But whatever. It’s Fine. You get to decide how you want to be you.” 

Roman huffed a near laugh, leaning against the wall as he ran a hand through his hair. “You make it sound so easy.” But he’d been Prince Roman for...well ever. Could he ever be thought of as anything else?

“I do. It’s not. Trust me.” V fluttered his wings wide, drifting closer. “You’re not the only Side still figuring himself out, Ro, even if it feels like you are right now. Thomas is constantly growing and changing. It would be silly if his Sides remained stagnant when he’s in motion.” 

It was silly. None of them were exactly the same Side they had been when they first started to interact with Thomas. It was just--he’d been the same Prince Roman for--well ever. He lowered his head, taking a slow breath. “What if…” He swallowed, forcing himself to look up. “What if they don’t like the changes I choose to make? What if they want me to stay the Prince and I can’t--”

“Then screw them.” V said, holding up his middle fingers. “And in the words of our dearest PatteyCake, I will physically fight them.” He threw a couple of air punches. “For not accepting you for who you want to be when you’ve tried so hard to accept them.” 

Well then. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as a flicker of warmth seemed to grow in his chest. It was nice to know he has one person in his corner. Though he wouldn’t bank on it lasting too long. Not with his current track record. But for now..after the day he’d had....it was a nice feeling. “Do you always lurk around in the dark waiting to give pep talks?” He asked, pushing away from the wall. 

V did a lazy loop in the air before landing on his shoulder, making himself comfortable as Roman climbed the stairs back to his room. “Only to people I like.” 

[exhaustedfander]

Hideaway: Chapter Eight

 a03 link 

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / ?

word count: 2,140

*Emerges from the grave* I'm not dead! Hey guys, I know it's been forever and I really didn't know if this story was ever going to continue but I'm back with intentions of continuing till the end. I can't promise when each chapter is going to come out or the regularity because I've fallen out of the Sanders Sides fandom to a degree, but I have missed this story and I'm really excited to continue it.

In case anyone needs a quick recap, this begins just after the events of "Putting Other First", in which Roman and Logan are both very burnt out and Roman asks Logan to come with him into The Imagination for 'just a little while.' While in the castle that Roman has built, they spend many intimate moments while simultaneously avoiding their feeling for each other and their self-worth issues.

In their absence, Virgil and Patton grow concerned about them and ask Janus and Remus if they've seen them. In the end, after a tense conversation, Patton and Janus stay behind to keep an eye on Thomas while Virgil and Remus venture into The Imagination to try and retrieve them.

“Do you think Remus and Virgil have found them yet?”

Patton sits on the sofa, Janus draped over his lap with a book in his hand. He sets the book aside, his attention set on the fatherly figment, Patton’s face drawn in deep worry.

“I don’t know,” he answers, before adding, “But I’m sure they’re alright. Roman and Logan are bound to stick together. And I can’t see Virgil leaving Remus’s side.”

It’s become more and more difficult lying to Patton. Janus finds it almost humorous; he’s Deceit, for Christ’s sake. He should be able to lie to Patton with ease, as there are certainly times in which it’s definitely necessary. Considering their troubled past, and Patton’s previous outright hatred towards all things fibbing, it’s laughable that Janus struggles as much as he does these days.

But he reminds himself, they’re partners now. It was one thing lying to Patton when they were ‘enemies’, and another entirely when they grew closer. But now? Janus has a hard time choking down a mere fib, and this is one of those instances.

He isn’t sure that they’re alright, not at all. He certainly hopes so. He’s put faith in Remus and Virgil to put aside their differences and find them. He doesn’t doubt that they’ll be successful, but the cost of such an outcome weighs heavily on his mind. Roman may very well not want to be found. And when it comes to Logan, Janus just can’t be sure.

Regardless, at most, this is a white lie. Small and, as of now, fairly harmless. He wants to reassure Patton that everything will work out fine and wants even more so to reassure himself of this. Patton’s been on the cliff’s edge of despair of these last few days, Janus is doing everything to stop him from slipping over. But… there’s only so far, a person can go, only so far you can try to comfort those you love, and he knows this. It would be foolish to believe he could irradicate every one of Patton’s doubts. Still, he can’t help but wish for it.

“You’re probably right,” Patton responds after a moment. He’s lying too. Janus can taste the bitterness falsehood in his mouth, and the look in Patton’s eyes gives it all away.

He presses a kiss to Patton’s cheek, curling up in his embrace, his book, for the time being, all but forgotten.

Hurry Remus, he prays silently, Please, keep an eye on him, Virgil. Bring them home.

=+=

“Roman? R-Roman, what’s going on?” Logan asks urgently, swiveling his head around the now pitch-black field. The moment darkness enveloped the land, the unicorns scattered, whinnying as they ran deep into the thicket of the forest.

“I– its. It’s so dark.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Logan says, “Why is it dark? Where did the daylight go?”

Roman goes very quiet and though it’s difficult to do so in the dark, Logan can just barely make out the look of horror that’s spread across his face.

“Roman. Roman, what’s happening?”

“We need to leave,” he says after another moment of stunned silence.

“What?”

“We can’t be here,” Roman insists, grabbing for Logan’s hand and holding tight, “We need to go. Back to the castle.”

“Why? I don’t understand what’s going on,” Logan says, surprised to find Roman physically pulling him in the direction of the castle, “Roman– wait. What is the meaning of this? What's frightening you?”

“I– I don’t know. Logan, I don’t know, I- I don’t know what’s happening. But I know we need to get out of here. Something’s very wrong.”

Desperate for answers though he is, Logan, cannot ignore the way Roman’s voice wavers with utter terror.

“Will doing so help? Will it help you to understand what’s happening?” “I’m– Logan it’s dark. It’s s-so dark. I don’t like it.”

“Okay,” Logan says finally, conjuring a flashlight. He expects that Roman would’ve done so sooner, were it not for his frazzled state of mind, “We’ll go somewhere light. Come on.”

Roman grips his hand almost painfully as they hurry back to the castle. The lights all flick on in unison as they make it through the doors. Roman let’s go of his hand, sagging against the wall, his chest heaving.

“Hey, hey,” Logan says uneasily, watching as his friend struggles, “It’s alright. We’re back where it’s light, you’re going to be alright.”

Not long ago, Logan’s sure he’d insist that there’s no need to be afraid of something as harmless as the dark. People’s minds simply wander towards the worst-case scenarios when they’re in pitch-blackness. Furthermore, he’s certain that Roman in almost any circumstance would be appalled to have revealed the depth of this fear. Regardless, though, they’re here now and Logan will not point out any of those factors.

If he thinks about it for a moment, there may be a good reason to be afraid of this particular darkness. Roman hadn’t seemed to understand its causation the least bit a few minutes ago and he significantly doubts that’s changed much.

“Something’s not right. It’s wrong, Lo. Lo, it’s wrong,” Roman pants, his breath catching in his throat. “It’s dark and– and something doesn’t feel right. It – it feels like there’s someone…”

“Someone who, what? Roman, I don’t understand what you’re telling me.”

Roman’s eyes widen, the expression of terror on his face worsening.

“Someone’s here.”

The moment the whisper exits his lips, Roman’s body goes slack. He pitches backward, his back hitting the wall hard with a smack, and try though he does, Logan isn’t quick enough to try and stop him from sliding to the floor. Hastily, he kneels in front of Roman, searching him over as thoroughly as he can.

“Roman, are you injured? Did something happen?”

He racks his brain, trying to think about a moment in which Roman was out of his sight long enough to have harm done to him. But they’ve been together since they woke up and Logan can’t fathom how Roman might’ve found himself in some kind of parrel. He’s clearly in deep distress, and Logan’s trying to figure out why that might be as quickly as he can. Roman offers no answer.

“Are you ill?” He ventures thinking that might be somewhat more plausible, “Do you feel unwell?”

Roman shakes his head fiercely. He’s shaking like a leaf.

"No,” he bites out as the word hurts him. Logan’s trying to help him up but it’s as though Roman’s body has gone numb, the shivers that rack him only growing worse as each second passes. “No, it’s not– I’m not sick. Can’t you see; there is something amiss. They’re here, a-and, and they don’t want us to be here. They want to take us.”

Logan is not convinced Roman is well. Not with that wild, unfathomable save for terror look in his blown-out pupils and the shivers that refuse to leave him.

He thinks he should do something.  what it is exactly is escaping him, but Roman is panicking and there must be some solution here.

Roman buries his head between his knees, clutching them tightly and making himself as small as possible. Logan’s heart hasn’t stopped hammering since the sun seemed to decide it would shine no longer.

“Roman. Please, you mustn’t be feeling well. Do you have, a fever, perhaps?” Carefully, Logan reaches to touch Roman’s forehead, only for the princely side to jerk away, suddenly standing on unsteady feet.

“I said, I’m not sick! It has to be a monster! A terrible, deadly beast! That’s the only explanation as to why I feel so… so…”

“So?”

“Afraid,” he mutters, “I’m afraid, Logan. You– you can’t let them take me, Logan! Or you! They can’t take us. They can't.”

For a moment, Logan’s mind turns to fellow sides. Roman couldn’t be referring to them with such dread… right? No, surely not. He and Roman aren’t exactly on the best of terms with them at the moment, but the state of their relationship would never warrant that worrying look in Roman’s eyes.

Unsure of himself, Logan says, “I won’t let anything happen to you, Roman. You’re safe here. I’ll keep you safe.”

He doesn’t have a clue what he might be keeping Roman safe from. Looking out the window, it’s hard to assess incoming danger in the sudden absence of the sun. but this Roman’s realm, a place he’s always been most in his element. As far as he’s aware, Roman’s felt content in this place and he doesn’t know why that would ever change.

Before he knows what’s happening, Roman is in his lap with his toned arms winding around his waist. He buries his face in Logan’s neck, shaking as the logical side holds him close. It’s strange, how familiar embracing Roman has become and, in turn, being embraced by him. Logan had never intended to become so accustomed to physical intimacy but now that he has, he hardly thinks it possible to stop.

If cradling him and promising protection might keep these unknown demons at bay, Logan will do so. When Roman’s head is clearer, he’ll try to get some information out of him. Surely there must be some way to understand what’s become of the sun – or the moon for that matter, for she too has vanished.

=+=

“What the fuck is going on?” Is the first thing Virgil asks when the lights go out. Remus must know, he thinks; he’s a part of Thomas’s creativity, for crying out loud! But when Virgil turns to him, his face now illuminated by the torch that’s he’s conjured, Remus looks as confused as he does.

“I don’t know,” Remus says, holding the torch of green fire in front of him, staring out into the otherwise inky blackness, “What did he do?”

“What did who do? What’re you talking about?”

“Roman,” Remus answers, “What the hell did my brother do? The timing in this place has always been weird but the suns never disappeared before.”

From his limited knowledge of The Imagination, Virgil can attest to that. He’s been here countless times with Roman, and a few with Remus, back in the day, and nothing like this has ever happened. He’d noticed the sun rising and setting at a hard to pin down rate, but this is just plain freaky.

“Do… do you think Roman knows what’s going on either?”

“He might, but–.” He pauses, a grave look settling over his face. “Virgil.”

“Yeah?”

“Does something feel wrong here?”

“Okay, you already know I’m anxious all the time, so I don’t know what you’re– oh. Huh. Are those…?”

“Eyes?”

“Uh-huh,” Virgil says, noticing what must be dozens of pairs of glowing emerald green eyes in the bushes and shrubbery around them. “Are they you’re doing?”

“Not this time, Storm Cloud.”

Virgil spares a second to dwell on the use of a nickname he hasn’t heard from Remus in what must be years now before realizing, far more troublingly, that Remus looks unnerved. He isn’t the type to be afraid of things in The Imagination or just period, yet his eyes are wide as he takes in the sights and sounds that seem to be closing in on them.

“Stuff like this isn’t usually anywhere near Roman’s side, right?”

“Nope. He’s got unicorns and fairies and shit. You think these are unicorns and fairies?”

Considering the sinister look in those many sets of eyes and the growls and snarls erupting from the greenery, Virgil’s inclined to say, Nah, not wholesome fairytale creatures.

Virgil had gone into this situation knowing all was far from well, but this exceeds those expectations by a lot. He’d thought maybe a standoff between Logan and Roman would be evident, but he’d never worried that The Imagination itself might be hostile.

“Remus, what’re we supposed to do?”

“We’re gonna find Logan and my shit-head brother is what we’re gonna do,” Remus says, suddenly brandishing his morning star.

“But what about–.”

“What, this? C’mon, we can handle this. Just stick close.”

And as much as Virgil wants to head in the opposite direction, what choice has he got? They can’t return back to the mindscape emptyhanded and what if these creatures are, like, trapping Logan and Roman here or something? He seriously doubts that train of thought, but there’s no going back, not when they’ve already made it to Roman’s side of The Imagination. They’re here to do something, and goddamn it, they’re gonna do it.

It doesn’t stop Virgil’s heart from racing as Remus slips a hand into his, giving him a squeeze. Whether or not Remus is trying to comfort him or himself, Virgil doesn’t have a clue, but either way, he’s not letting go. Not right now.

One step at a time, hand-in-hand, they walk into the lion’s den.

=+=

Hideaway Taglist:

@tryingtobts

General Taglist:

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@bella-in-a-bag

@igonnatalknothing

@elizabutgayer

@wishthefish916

@reptilianwithscallions

@justmeandmygayships

@arodynamic-enby

@harper-mdn

[iceshard1011]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders Characters: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Additional Tags: Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Post-Episode: Flirting with Social Anxiety, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, mentions of manipulation, mentions of breakdowns, ANGST TIME, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, no plot head empty, forgiving and moving on, the dark sides as they crush on the light sides: okay so chose your emotionally damaged bf, the babies are sad, but they're getting better, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Deceit | Janus Sanders Angst, everyone's sad okay Summary:

Roman wants to cuddle. Virgil doesn’t want to move. Sharing the couch doesn’t seem so harmless.

Until it kind of does.

(And then it doesn't again.)

3k story below the cut, too :)

Virgil had thought he was the only one still awake. Really, it wasn’t an unreasonable thought to have, at one o’clock in the morning with a family full of individuals who seemed to follow the unspoken rule of Highly Energetic During The Day Yet Dead To The World At Night.

So when movement caught his eye by the staircase and he fumbled with his phone so vigorously that he dropped it to the carpet with a mute thump, he was glad there was only one witness of his undignified actions.

Regardless, that one witness, aside from his sleepy expression and slumped posture, seemed pretty amused.

“Tell anyone about that, and I’ll—”

“Relax,” said Roman around a yawn, “I won’t.”

“Don’t tell me to relax.” Virgil scowled.

Roman grinned, clearly entertained, and shuffled across the living room to the couch. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked and picked up Virgil’s phone. Virgil took it when it was offered and fiddled with the case between his fingers.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Roman nodded. “Me neither.” Virgil tilted his head in a silent question, but Roman then shook his head. “Just one of those nights, I suppose.”

Virgil shuffled further up the couch and curled his legs, allowing space on the far side of the seat for the prince. Roman decided to bypass that spare space completely and flopped down along the couch.

A breathy oof huffed from Virgil, but he didn’t shove Roman off him. “I thought it was a well-known fact that I don’t like cuddling.”

Roman jolted, the first emotion aside from 'tiredly amused' crossing his face, and looked up in panic. “I— I just thought— I can go—”

Virgil shut him up by reaching up to cup the back of Roman’s head and pull the creative side back to his chest. “I’m teasing.”

Roman struggled against Virgil’s hands. He didn’t look convinced. “But... if you don’t feel comfortable—”

“You know that I’m okay with this,” Virgil interjected quietly. He was already scrolling his phone again.

“Yes, but— even with Patton, you don’t—”

“Good thing it’s not Patton stretching himself across me like an overgrown cat, then, isn’t it?” Virgil said.

Roman huffed with a chuckle, and Virgil felt him relax again. Virgil found himself absentmindedly carding his fingers through Roman’s hair as he kept his eyes on his phone.

Predictably, after recent events involving Thomas, the pair had gotten a great deal closer. Incidentally, they’d both drifted from the rest of the sides. Neither of them was fond of Janus, nor had Virgil found himself unwilling to be as affectionate with Patton as he was used to. The day Roman had staggered into his room, trembling, eyes brimming with tears, Virgil had decided he wasn’t too fond of anyone involved with causing the creative side pain.

(Himself, included. He’d been so relieved when Roman had ordered Thomas to attend the wedding. If he was feeling bold enough, some days he would consider the feeling breaching proud. But the aftermath of the wedding, the shouting, the lecturing, the— everything that had come with that redux... Virgil realised he hated himself just as much as he hated Janus.)

But then the creative side had chosen Virgil, over Patton, over Logan, over his own damn bedroom, to come to and trust and seek comfort, and Virgil privately decided to himself that he was never going to let anything hurt him again.

Roman had never questioned it, but he had never complained, either. In fact, he’d always seemed quite pleased whenever Virgil didn’t pull away from any affection Roman offered. And maybe it was guilt, the first few times Virgil plainly accepted a friendly nudge or cheeky hair-ruffle without a glare, but gradually he found he actually enjoyed being embraced, or poked in the ribs, or on occasions like the one currently, being used as a giant body pillow.

“It’s kind of unfair how comfortable you are,” Roman mumbled randomly into the silence.

Virgil moved his phone to raise an eyebrow down at the prince. “You’re lucky I haven’t booted your ass off, yet.”

“No,” Roman whined. “I am but humbly seeking your presence, a mere beggar searching for comfort—”

“Okay,” gently interrupted Virgil, “no poetry this early in the morning, Princey.”

“That wasn’t really poetry,” Roman mused. “It was kind of... fancy complaining.”

“You said it, not me,” Virgil said. He placed his phone down and entertained himself with playing with Roman’s unruly bed hair.

“I did,” Roman agreed sleepily. His eyes were already closed, his nose buried against Virgil’s chest. Against his wishes, Virgil’s own eyelids were beginning to droop.

Just a couple of hours, Virgil thought.

His last thought was figuring that it was the dead of night and he wouldn’t have to worry about any of the others seeing them until morning.

 Hours later, he startled awake to find a pair of dubious, mismatched eyes blinking down at him.

Virgil almost jolted so hard he feared he would’ve not only woken Roman up, but probably thrown him onto the floor, too.

“What the hell do you want,” he hissed. He would have been writhing and spitting like a furious cat if he wasn’t so conscious of waking up Roman, who was heavy across Virgil’s torso, inhaling breaths that were so deep they were almost snores.

Janus didn’t look impressed, nor even slightly intimidated. It was infuriating that he could guess Virgil wasn’t going to lunge at him if he said something Virgil didn’t like.

“I thought you didn’t like being cuddled,” Janus said, and he sounded far too damn amused.

“Maybe I just didn’t like you,” Virgil growled.

“Scathing as always, little spider,” Janus hummed.

Virgil bared his teeth. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Getting breakfast.”

“Ha-ha,” spat Virgil, “it’s not like it’s...” He looked around. Sunlight was trickling in through the window. The clock on the wall above him was reading... six o’clock?

Shit.

Roman was still snoring away, showing no sign of moving or waking. Virgil looked to the top of the staircase, wondering if he was going to see the rest of the sides traipsing down, ready to spot him and laugh.

“Relax.” Janus said it with a flippant flick of his wrist. Virgil felt another spike of irritation. He was surprised Roman hadn’t woken up from how tense Virgil had gotten beneath him. “I volunteered myself to make breakfast this morning. No one is going to be up for at least another hour or two.”

“Oh, good one,” Virgil said scathingly. “Enjoy telling 'helpful' lies, now?”

“Oh, goodness.” Janus ran a gloved hand down his face, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “It’s far too early.”

“What, to deal with me?” Virgil asked.

“Yes.” Janus said it so bluntly Virgil actually stopped, wondering what he was trying to achieve. “And to try and remind you, once again, that I don’t constantly speak in lies.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to trust everything you say,” Virgil snapped.

Janus sighed again, but he didn’t have a chance to say anything before a yawn interrupted both of them.

Virgil looked down, locking gazes guiltily with Roman.

“You guys argue awfully loud,” he rasped, voice scratchy with sleep. He yawned again, squinting, and stretched. He promptly buried his face back into Virgil’s shirt. “S’early.”

“It is,” Janus agreed. Virgil was almost ready to let it go and allow Janus to do what he wanted in the kitchen, but then he felt Roman go rigid at Janus’ voice. Virgil almost didn’t know why, but then remembered the way the creative side had sobbed, keeling in on himself in the middle of Virgil’s floor, wailing about the trial, and the wedding, and compliments and lies and smirks and mistakes—

And he remembered how Roman had escaped every room Janus had appeared in, and how he never looked Janus in the eyes, and Virgil’s arms tightened protectively around his prince. He glared up at Janus, who was watching Roman with round eyes. Virgil knew how perceptive he was. He wasn’t particularly sorry to see the stricken expression on the snake’s face.

But then Janus looked away and took a step back, and Virgil spotted his fingers tapping rapidly against his leg. It was a fidgeting habit that Virgil hardly ever saw; mostly because Janus was too proud to ever let anyone see him fidget.

Virgil didn’t know how he felt about that, but it must have been a show of something when he didn’t snipe at Janus again when he moved to the kitchen.

Instead, he focused on rubbing his hands up and down Roman’s back, feeling him slowly relax again, but from the way he gripped Virgil's shirt in tight fistfuls, he was far from calm.

Just Roman’s luck, that he was stuck with the side who was next to useless with affection.

Acting on instinct and impulse and the distant memory of Patton doing the same thing to Virgil himself in the aftermath of a particularly bad panic attack, Virgil moved to stroke Roman’s cheek with the back of his knuckles as gently as he could.

Roman startled and looked up at Virgil. He finally smiled, his eyes twinkling, and Virgil gave him a small smirk in return.

“Coffee, either of you?” Janus asked from the kitchen, followed by the sound of mugs clinking. His tone would have sounded pleasantly smooth to anyone else, but Virgil could hear the distant strain in his voice.

Virgil glanced down at Roman, who stretched (and he really did look like a cat, then) and shrugged. “We should probably get up for the day, anyway.”

Virgil wouldn't have considered getting anything from the snake, but if Roman was thinking about having a coffee...

“Two,” Virgil said to Janus, for Roman’s sake, because Virgil wasn’t about to ask Janus for anything if he could help it. “Cream and three sugars.”

Roman was busy sitting up and stretching his back, so he probably didn’t hear — or rather, feel — the sudden pause that came from the kitchen. Virgil didn’t look over his shoulder, but he did wait for Janus to say something, because he was obviously thinking something.

“I thought you liked your coffee straight black,” Janus said finally.

That was how Virgil liked his coffee, and although he was expecting Janus to remember, it was still a little startling to hear. He wasn’t about to do something stupid though, like say that out loud. “If you know how I like it, there shouldn’t be a problem, should there?” he said over his shoulder, instead, and felt vaguely like he was Logan instead of Virgil. That wasn't a very Virgil-like thing to say.

There was another pause before the sound of mugs moving water running resumed.

Virgil wondered about the exact moment when Janus realised that Virgil hadn’t ordered for himself and had assumed him to remember Virgil’s own preference as well.

The coffee was ready by the time the pair made it over to the dining table. Virgil eased himself into the seat carefully, rubbing the back of his neck. Falling asleep on the couch in that position, no matter how appealing in the moment, was not comfortable to wake up to.

Roman seemed to have no trouble with how he slept, looking content as ever to slouch in his chair (Virgil hoped he wasn’t passing on the habit) and sip at his drink.

Virgil hadn’t really believed Janus, but he was still startled when Logan walked down the stairs much before seven o'clock. He whirled to glare at Janus, who was still shuffling around in the kitchen.

“Thought you said no one else would be up,” he grumbled. Janus looked up and saw Logan. He looked startled.

“I... suppose I lied,” he said, but he sounded surprised. Virgil almost scowled, but he saw a hint of a smile at the corners of Roman’s mouth, and he was stunned into forgetting to be angry.

“Good morning,” Logan said. He looked a little weary at Janus’ presence, but then Roman grinned sunnily at him, and Virgil watched as his shoulders loosened slightly.

“Morning, Specs.”

Logan didn’t wait for Janus to offer him anything and instead went about making himself his own coffee. Virgil hid a smile. He wasn’t sure if he was oblivious to Janus trying to help, or making a point by ignoring him, but regardless it was still one of the things he loved about the logical side.

“Oh!”

Virgil winced at Patton’s voice from the landing of the staircase.

“I see everyone got up before me, for once!”

Virgil watched Roman out of the corner of his eye, and something twisted in his stomach when Roman’s smile dropped, and he went tense.

“Anyone have any preference for breakfast?” Patton asked as he crossed the living room.

“I was planning on making pancakes,” Janus said cautiously, and wasn’t that just a ridiculous image. “It seems to be the... family favourite.”

Patton practically beamed. “Good thinking!” He paused at the dinner table and grinned at Virgil and Roman. “Mornin’, kiddos.”

Virgil grunted in reply. Normally he’d make more of an effort for Patton, but something still didn’t sit right with him about the moral side. He sensed Patton’s crestfallen look but forced himself not to react. He kept his gaze on the dark surface of his coffee.

“Good morning, Patton,” Roman said quietly. Virgil looked up and thought he and Patton must have had matching astonished expressions.

Roman wasn’t rude (most of the time) — on purpose, at least — but Virgil couldn’t blame him for being hurt after... everything. He certainly hadn’t had an issue with the creative side being unusually quiet around Patton. Usually, he’d only smile — brittle and forced and so painfully fake — whenever Patton greeted him, and politely decline if Patton ever offered something.

This had to be the first time in... at least a few weeks where he greeted back. Objectively, Virgil figured this wasn’t and maybe shouldn’t be a big deal, but his damn heart seemed to think otherwise, swelling with... either pride or affection, or maybe both, because Roman did that to him.

Patton recovered quicker than Virgil and smiled gently down at the prince. “Can I get you guys anything?” he asked. Virgil shook his head slowly, but Roman hesitated.

“Um...” he said, and Patton tilted his head attentively. That seemed to be encouragement enough, because Roman said, “Chocolate chips in the pancakes?”

Logan sighed from the kitchen, but Patton clapped his hands together. “Oh, me too. I think it’s a chocolate day, today.”

“Patton,” said Logan, borderline petulantly, “you know how unhealthy that is for—”

“Hush.” Virgil’s eyebrows skyrocketed up his forehead when Janus waved Logan away with a smirk. “One day of chocolate chip pancakes is not going to be detrimental to our health.”

Patton clapped again, delighted. Logan rolled his eyes, grumbling something like, “taking Patton’s side, as usual.”

“Oh, you know you like chocolate chip,” Patton said as he bounced over to nudge the logical side unapologetically and throw his arms around Janus' shoulders. Virgil huffed in amusement and turned back to his coffee, but Roman caught his eye.

The prince was looking between the group in the kitchen and Virgil, gaze impossibly soft and warm. Meeting Virgil’s gaze, something akin to mischief flickered in his eyes. With a subtle twitch of his fingers, a pair of black-rimmed glasses, identical to Logan’s and Patton’s, appeared on his face, and he made a sulky expression.

Virgil, who had gone to take a sip and was only now realising Roman was imitating a grumpy Logan, snorted coffee from his nose.

Roman eyes almost popped out of their skull as he choked on his own laughter. There was snickering coming from the kitchen, but it was overridden by Patton’s scolding and Logan’s offended rebuttal.

“What’s all this?” Remus asked when he popped into existence atop the table. Virgil was too busy scrubbing at his nose and trying to wipe the coffee from the wood surface, so he didn’t bother with casting Remus any dark looks.

Roman, however, didn’t seem to have an issue with confronting his brother, as usual. He swatted at Remus, shoving him. “Get off the table, you hulking gremlin.”

“Are you guys snorting stuff without me?” Remus sounded genuinely offended as he tipped off the table and landed with a thump on his back, legs still cramped in the air like a dead cockroach.

“Not quite,” Virgil grumbled under his breath and he wiped the last of the coffee from his face.

“Shame,” Remus said, standing. He looked around, planting his hands on his hips. “You should live with a little excitement for once in your lives.”

“Remus,” Logan called from the kitchen, and Virgil waited for him to scold the dark creative side, but instead the next thing Logan said was, “Catch.”

Remus went rigid, his pupils blowing up as something was flung through the air. Remus lunged for it, caught it between his teeth like some kind of deranged dog, and landed in a crouch, sitting back on his haunches to gnaw at... was that raw meat?

Virgil looked at Logan in horror. The logical side looked merely bemused as he shrugged in response. “I’ve found he enjoys steak.”

“Raw?” Virgil uttered.

Logan peered curiously over at Virgil. “How else?”

Roman choked on his own laughter for a second time, and Virgil wouldn’t be able to hide his smile even if he tried.

So, Patton and Janus continued to maneuver around each other to make breakfast, Logan talked with Remus who had to speak awkwardly around the chunks of meat he tore into, and Roman and Virgil shot amused grins at each other.

And, as strange of a life as it was, life nonetheless in the mindscape continued.

[kieraswriting]

Master Masterpost

More Than the Sum of Our Parts

Sanders Sides, Complete

The sides all have animal forms they shift into, but they’ve been hiding them from each other. Slowly, they each learn to accept each other and themselves, which leads to much fun and shenanigans.

Trust is Difficult to Give (But Easily Broken)

Sanders Sides, Complete

Virgil and Logan are cat hybrids, and meet Patton, who got a job at the pet store. Patton, and his roommate Thomas, adopt them and try to give them the best life possible, despite Many serious challenges.

Human/Fairy Relations

Sanders Sides, Complete

Thomas stumbles into a fairy circle, and gets kidnapped by Anxiety. He makes friends with Patton, another human kidnapped by a fairy named Logic. Together, they escape, and try to find a new way of getting along with the fairies.

February Prompts (G/t)

Sanders Sides, Complete

G/t Prompt fills, some connected, some not.

100 G/t Prompts

Sanders Sides, Complete

G/t Prompt fills, including several complete stories and many single or incomplete storylines.

100 G/t OC Prompts

Original, Ongoing

G/t Prompt fills using my original characters.

Noal the Gorgon

Original, Ongoing

Made together with @pizza-box-raccoon

Noal is a gorgon, and has been a slave since childhood. He meets a very small girl named Ymir who can shift into a jerboa, and who encourages him to escape.

Coffin

Sanders Sides, Complete

Virgil is a vampire, captured, and used as a part of the ‘final test’ for three vampire hunters, Patton, Logan, and Roman. They learn that the hunters are wrong, and many of them evil, and together with new allies, they all try to fight against them.

Searching for Home

Original, Complete

Stories of Sowarrelm

In a world full of dragons, fairies, and selkies, six people struggle to find a place that's truly a home. Warren is running away, from a place no longer his home. Emile has been driven away, and just wants to get back home. And Jordan is trying to figure out what makes a home. They’ve found people that care for them, but will they ever really find home?

Centaur AU

Sanders Sides, Ongoing

Thomas is hired as a groom to several centaurs, owned by an extraordinarily rich family, the Authiers. He finds that they’ve been treated awfully, and tries his best to help, but he’s only one person.

Making a Magic Harp

Original, Complete

Stories of Sowarrelm

Elora, who’s been cursed blessed with wings, is trying to make a magic harp. She’s distracted by students causing problems in the library she works in, and also by a beautiful woman named Asha who seems to really like her. But then things get to be a bit more confusing.

In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection

Sanders Sides, Complete

Virgil wants affection. And has been trying hard to learn how to get it. Finally he tries, and has far more success than he ever guessed he would have.

After Virgil’s success, the others decide to try their luck too.

See my AO3 for most of these plus a bunch of one-shots and smaller stories!

And look here for all my podfics!

[ptolomeia]

Rhymes With I Love You

Summary: Thomas realizes he is deeply in love with his friend Janus. Luckily for him, it turns out Janus loves him back.

Pairing: Thomas/Janus

Rating: T

Tags: Human Au, Fluff, Mutual Pining

Words: 1802

Read it on AO3

It was the laugh that undid him. Loud, unrestrained, belly laughter. Tears in the corners of his eyes and little sounds that Janus would never admit were snorts escaping. Janus unabashedly, dorkily, loudly happy, for all the world, but most importantly, for Thomas to see.

Thomas knew then and there that, not only did he love Janus, he’d loved him for a while. He didn’t think the words “I love you so much” would have come so close to falling out of his mouth like an armed, friendship destroying bomb if he hadn’t been in love for a while.

And could anyone really blame him? This was Janus he was talking about. Brilliant, beautiful, eloquent, funny, sharp—Thomas could go on all day. And had. The less said about the contents of the margins of his notes (kept carefully tucked away whenever there was a change of seeing Janus) these days, the better.

But more than any of those things (and they were great things!) Janus was kind. You’d never guess, when you first met him, but under all that snark and swagger, Janus was one of the most considerate people Thomas had ever met. He was always willing to go a little out of his way to help, and he never forgot to make Thomas a cup of tea when he made himself one.

Yes, Thomas was deeply and irrevocably in love with Janus, and had been for who knew how long. There were only two problems with this.

The first one wasn’t so bad; Janus didn’t love him back. Which was fair, honestly. Thomas was an anxious mess of a human being, barely able to keep on top of his master’s work. Thomas might be able to listen to Janus talk for hours about the philosophers he loved and studied and analyzed, but it’s not like Thomas had ever been able to really get any of it. Why wouldn’t Janus want someone who was his intellectual equal? Someone who could at least appear to be as put together as Janus was?

So yeah, Janus didn’t love him back, but that really wasn’t the real problem. Thomas was happy just being Janus’s friend, spending time with him just as he always had. No, it was the second problem that was the real problem.

You think a man who’d spend over two decades in the closet would be better at hiding things, but nope. Apparently he’d used up all his secret keeping abilities in those years because now, every time he saw Janus, every time Janus made a quip, or smirked, or breathed, Thomas was overcome with the desire to tell Janus about his unreciprocated feelings.

In retrospect, letting Janus serve him wine when Janus had come over for dinner had been a bad idea.

He hadn’t actually said “Janus, I love you, please pass the salt”, but it was a close run thing.

No, it wasn’t until after supper and another glass of wine was finished and cleaned up from, after Janus had made them both a cup of tea and was sitting with Thomas on his small, busted up couch in his small, student apartment, talking in depth about the idiocy of some famous philosopher, as Thomas watched Janus’s elegant hands so eloquently illustrate what Janus was saying, that the words he’d barely managed to keep behind clenched teeth for the past few weeks fell out into the world.

“I’m in love with you.”

Janus froze. Thomas froze. Oh shit. He wanted to believe he hadn’t actually said that, but Janus’s entirely unreadable expression said otherwise.

“What?” Janus hissed, his eyes searching Thomas’s face.

“Oh God,” Thomas said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Too late to pretend he hadn’t said anything and they could ignore it. Now he just had to try for damage control and hope he hadn’t managed to destroy his friendship with Janus completely. “I’m sorry, Janus—I don’t know why I said that. No, I mean, I do, but I know you don’t return my feelings—which is totally fine! I just hope we can—”

“I hate tea,” Janus interrupted Thomas’s frantic and pathetic attempt to explain.

“What?” It was Thomas’s turn to say.

“I hate tea,” Janus said, putting down the mug of tea he made himself, and leaning towards Thomas. “I always have. I’ve spent years trying to find a blend I could stand—you have no idea how many samplers I’ve gone through—before realizing no such blend existed and stopped bothering. Black, Green, White, Pu’er, Herbal, Rooibos, Oolong, Chai—I’ve tried them all to no avail. It doesn’t matter how long I steep them, or if I use the right temperature of water. It doesn’t matter how I try to doctor it with milk or sugar or lemon or honey. Wine, Coffee, plain water, even milk are more to my taste than tea. Hell, I’d rather drink beer.”

“But—But that’s ridiculous!” Thomas managed, unable to reconcile the words coming out of Janus’s mouth with the hundreds of mugs of tea he’d seen his friend drink. “You’re literally drinking tea right now! You made it yourself 20 minutes ago! I was right there watching you! Besides, I’ve seen you drink hundreds of cups of tea over the years and never seen you even touch a beer. I swear, every other time we’re at one of our places you say you were thinking of making yourself some tea and would I… like… some…” Thomas felt his eyes widen. No, that couldn’t be it… could it?

“Yes,” Janus said, leaning further forward, eyes bright and intense and overwhelming. “Very early on after meeting you, Thomas—After falling so deeply in love with you I knew I’d never be able to find my way out if I ever wanted to, not that I ever have—I realized you are the most stubborn person on the face of the planet when it comes to letting other people take care of you. You once mentioned that you find a cup of tea soothing, but later, when I wanted to make just you one, you absolutely refused to let me. So, even if I couldn’t stand the stuff, the simplest way for me to offer you the comfort I so desperately wanted to give you was to learn to choke down the stuff myself. I may hate tea, Thomas. But you don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because as someone once said ‘how can I help rhymes with I love you’ and I didn’t think you’d let me say either. Thomas, I would drink a thousand mugs of tea to see that soft, relieved smile of yours when I make you one when you’re stressed. I love you, Thomas. I have loved you for years.”

“But… but why?” Thomas asked, knowing he was repeating himself, but way too overwhelmed to do anything else. Janus loved him?

“Why?” Janus said, head jerking back. “Thomas, I knew you had issues knowing your own worth but—” Janus bit back his words and narrowed his eyes before starting again. “While the fact that you are physically stunning is what first attracted me to you, it’s not the reason I love you.” Breathing. Thomas had to remember that breathing was a thing. “No, I fell in love with you for other things. First of all, that brilliant mind of yours. Not only can you retain and easily access the truly astounding number of facts and how they relate to each other than you need for your engineering work, you have an astonishing way of coming sideways at a problem and developing an elegant solution no one else would imagine. There’s also the fact that you’re hilarious. I don’t think anyone has ever made me laugh as hard or as often as you have. But most importantly, Thomas, the real reason I fell so inescapably in love with you is that you are kind. You look at a world filled with casual cruelty and callousness, where injustice runs rampant and stupid rules let people day for no reason at all—and you say ‘Yes. All this is true. And I will do what I can to change that. I will be kind’. And you are. And you make the world a better place for it. Thomas, I’d have to be an idiot not to fall in love with you.”

And Janus was no idiot.

“You really love me?” Thomas asked, not quite able to believe it.

“I lie about many things, Thomas. You already know that about me. But I would not, will not, lie about this.” There was more honest vulnerability and emotion in Janus’s eyes than Thomas had ever seen there, and if possible, Thomas fell even deeper. Not that it mattered, because apparently Janus had been waiting to catch him all along. “I love you, Thomas Sanders. And I cannot possibly express how happy I am to hear you love me too.”

Janus loved him. Janus loved him.

Janus had also lied to him, but Thomas had known Janus’s flaws when he’d fallen in love, and had fallen anyway. And now that he knew what Janus was willing to do to make him happy?

“At some point,” Thomas said breathlessly (he seemed to have lost his breath somewhere deep in Janus’s eyes), “At some point we’re going to have to talk about the fact that apparently you’ve been lying to me.”

“Agreed,” Janus said, quick and so certain that Thomas didn’t doubt for a second that they would.

“But until then,” Thomas managed. “Until then, can I kiss yo—”

He didn’t manage to finish the sentence before Janus’s lips were pressed against his own.

“My love,” Janus said with a faint, almost disbelieving reverence, pulling back just far enough to look into Thomas’s eyes. “We can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever we want,” Thomas corrected gently, reaching up to lovingly cup Janus’s cheek. “From here on out, we both tell each other what we actually want, instead of dancing around it, okay?”

“In that case,” Janus more purred than said, turning his face slightly to press a kiss against the pad of Thomas’s thumb, while never taking his eyes of Thomas’s face, “I would very much like to kiss you again.”

Thomas swallowed. Thomas swallowed again. “Agreed,” he just managed to say.

With a soft laugh—a laugh Thomas thought he loved just as much as the belly laugh that made him realize the truth—Janus leaved back in and kissed him again.

Later, they would talk with each other about all the things they still needed to. Later, they would be honest and communicate and build something that let both of them feel heard and loved. But that could wait til morning. For now, there were better things to do.

[crankywhenprovoked]

All tied up. Prinxiety

Roman gets caught doing very unsafe rope binding by himself, and Virgil offers to help.

Roman did his best not to frown as Virgil slowly undid the ropes that were around him, dropping them to the floor.  He couldn’t even really hear what Virgil was saying anymore, the blood rushing in his ears was drowning it all out.  Not that he couldn’t fill in the blanks himself, as he often did, that he was stupid and dumb and worthless and.

“Are you listening to me?”  Virgil snapped, as he pulled the last of the ropes off.

“Do you want me to actually answer that?”

Virgil sighed softly, picking up the pieces of rope and throwing them all into Roman’s trash can before coming to stand in front of him.

“I don’t want you ever doing that again, do you hear me?  Binding yourself can be super dangerous.  I want you to promise me you won’t do it again.”

“I,”  Roman’s voice cracked softly, making him swallow and clear his throat, trying to ignore the burning behind his eyes.  “I promise.”

“Hey, Ro, talk to me.  What’s wrong?”

“It’s not important.”

“Bull shit.”

Virgil stepped closer, kneeling down between Roman’s spread legs, tilting his chin up to make him look at him.  The soft look in Virgil’s eyes broke the last resistance of the dam that was holding his tears back, making them slip down his cheeks.  Pulling his chin away, Roman did his best to wipe the tears away, but more just kept following the ones he wiped away.  A choked sob left Roman as Virgil’s arms wrapped around him, urging him to hug him around the neck.

“Shhh, it’s ok, Princy.  I’m right here.”  Virgil breathed, pressing a kiss to his hair.

Slowly Roman’s tears started tapering off, his breath still hitching a little, Virgil’s hand rubbing his back.  Clearing his throat, he wanted to tell Virgil he was fine, that it was just embarrassment, that he was ok.  But all of those lies felt like acid on his tongue.

“Talk to me.”  Virgil said, pulling back only enough to look him in the eyes.

“It makes me feel pretty,”  Roman said, feeling his cheeks getting red, but he continued on.  “It makes me feel held tight and warm and wanted.  I know that doing it alone is dangerous, but it helps so much.  But I promise, I won’t do it alone again.”

“You’re right, you won’t.  Because I’ll do it for you.”

“W-what?”  Roman breathed, searching Virgil’s eyes for a hint of a lie, or of disgust.

“I know a thing or two about shibari and can do it a lot better, not to mention safer, than what you were doing.  Will you let me?”

Roman found himself nodding even before the sentence fully left Virgil’s mouth, helping him stand up and showing him his box of ropes.

“Do you want to leave the underwear on?”  Virgil asked, pushing his hoodie sleeves up and grabbing some red rope.

“Would it bother you if they were off?”

“Not really.”

Fiddling with the waist band of his underwear for a few moments, he finally pushed them down, kicking them off.  Still feeling his face getting warmer, he held out his arms as Virgil motioned him to, before starting to wrap the rope around his torso.

“Too tight?”  Virgil asked, after making a few loops and catches.

“No, it’s good.”  Roman breathed out, shutting his eyes as Virgil went back to work.

Normally by now Roman would have pinched himself with the rope at least once, he was sure his back was covered in the small bruises.  But all he could feel was the slide of Virgil’s fingers leading the rope, and the secure hold of the binding.  As Virgil finished the length of red, he went back to the box and pulled out one of gold, kneeling down to bind the rope between his legs and around them, before looping it through the red in intricate looking weaves.

“Get on the bed?”  Virgil asked, standing back up.

Roman nodded slowly, feeling almost a little drunk with the affection he was receiving, and the warmth of the ropes.  Laying out on his back, he hummed softly as Virgil sat next to his side, using a dark purple rope to bind his lower arm to his upper arm.  Leaning over Roman, Virgil did the same to the other side, running his hand over the skin and rope when he was done.

“Can,”  Roman started, making Virgil stop from where he was starting to get up.  “Can you keep doing that?”

Nodding slowly, Virgil let his hand run over Roman’s skin again, moving the rope ever so slightly with each pass.  Doing the same to his other arm, Virgil hummed a song softly, watching Roman’s eyes flutter shut.  Sliding his hands up to Roman’s, he slid their fingers together, holding his hands as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Roman’s forehead.

As he pulled back, he smiled as the shocked look on Roman’s face, the warm glow of his cheeks as Virgil’s hands started rubbing his arms again, down to his shoulders.

“Can I go further?”  Virgil asked, resting his hands on Roman’s chest.

“Y-yes, please?”  He asked, sounding a little breathless.

Feeling a little warm, Virgil slipped his hoodie off, letting it fall on the floor as he got up on his knees, running his hands more over Roman.  Soft shivers trailed through Roman as Virgil’s hands rubbed him, rolling the ropes slightly with the movements, but none of them pinched.  As Virgil moved down more, a small bit of embarrassment colored Roman, knowing that he was hard.

But if Virgil was bothered, he didn’t say anything, just continued to rub his hands over him, sliding his hands over his thighs.

“You’re very handsome, Roman.  Always.”  Virgil told him, making Roman whine softly, closing his eyes tight.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm, very much so.  So strong, a good protector, amazing singer.  You have it all.”

Roman’s cock jolted slightly at the words, making him squirm as Virgil’s hands rubbed over his hips and up his sides.

“You look like a pretty present right now, lovely smooth skin on display, just waiting to be ravished and adored.”

A moan slipped out as Roman felt a kiss being placed on his stomach, Virgil's hands running over his chest.

“Please?”  Roman whined, squirming as he felt another kiss being pressed on his skin.

“Do you want me to take care of you completely, Ro?”

“Yes, please?”

Kneeling between Roman’s legs, Virgil grabbed some of Roman’s lotion, warming it up between his hands.  Wrapping his hands around Roman’s cock, Virgil moved at the same speed he’d been rubbing Roman’s skin.  Slow continuous strokes from base to tip, alternating hands each time, soft words of praise flowing like a melody around him.

As Roman reached his peak, his whole body felt light, like he was floating on a cloud, Virgil’s hands moving a few moments more before stopping.  Roman slowly came back down to earth, feeling Virgil cleaning him up, before starting to undo the ropes on his arms.

Blinking up at him, he smiled dopily up at him, yawning slightly as Virgil shook his head fondly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his forehead again.

“How are you feeling?”  Virgil asked, working the ropes off Roman’s legs and waist.

“Good.  I’m really good.”  Roman breathed out a laugh, realizing for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t lying.

“Good.”

Roman rolled slightly as Virgil got the rest of the ropes off, dropping the dirty ones to the side and putting the clean ones back in the box.  Helping Roman under the covers, Virgil stood to leave, jolting as Roman wrapped their fingers together.

“Stay?”

The one word was so soft and hopeful, Virgil didn’t have the heart to deny it.  Stripping down to just his boxers, before sliding under the covers with Roman, holding him close as Roman laid on his chest.  Running his fingers through Roman’s hair, Virgil let his eyes slip shut, humming softly as he felt Roman slowly grow heavier, falling asleep, feeling safe and warm in Virgil’s arms.

Tag list:

@migraine-marathon @hanramz-the-fander @darude-sanderstorm @thestoryofme13 @a-blog-just-for-sanders @cursed-by-thedragonwitch @ray-rambles @allthemetalsoftherainbow @musicphanpie-b @just-another-transblog @neko-ereri @shygirl4991 @prplzorua @lockolocka @spaceroman @deep-ocean-blues @musicsavedmefromdeath @randomslasher @thenerdycube @multi-fandom-trash-x9000 @thepusheenqueen @artistictaurean @thecrimsoncodex @trashypansexual @paxtonnsfw @princeofdespair @rptheturk @shadow-walker-1201 @milomeepit @ill-interested @ansfwcollection @moonlightinwater @datonerougecookeh @logically-sided @ruuworld @velocifoxy @microsoft-nerd @pearls-of-patton @jade-dragon226-fan @thomas-must-get-to-sleep @nyxwordsmith @thesilentbluesparrow @angered-turtle @siriuswhiskers @louisthewarlock @bekkyboo2003 @XxxxWitlee @too-precious-to-process @imaflashcard @bethebetterbard-and-backitup   @backatthebein @nymphaedoratonks @jaybingu @bluebellie01 @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @allaboutme7 @reba-andthesides @crankywhenprovoked @thisisshien

@justanotherpurplebutterfly

@razalin

@nightlovechild

@mr-rectify

@cover-your-eyes-children

@greeneggsandham1998

@vulnerablevirgil

@secretlygeneralperson

@sanderssmutsides

@karmels-stuff

@officialpattonsander

@deitywithablog

@sanderssidesstuffs001

@pundefulpapa

@hell-or-high-waters

@fandomfreak18andover

@ashensanity

@that-one-smut-addict

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

@meepishme deceided the first one who’s backstory I should elaborate on (in the pirate au) is Virgil! @alias290 idk if you still wanna be tagged in this stuff just let me know if not

(I’m doing this in fic form (which is why this too so long, sorry) it’s jumping a bit in the timeline (only after the deathday) All in all I’m not sure how happy I’m with the end result but whatever.)

Also the other four crew members are half other characters belonging to Thomas Sanders with two minor OCs sprinkled in.

Word count: 2340 (not betaed)

Warnings: abandonment, memory issues (not really but issues with forgetting shit), abusive parents (no violence in fic, but mention of parent wanting their kid dead)

Virgil leaned on the wood of the railing, his post in the crowsnest long abandoned.

It had been five days since they had spotted this island and discovered that once the low tide set in the Eye of God was stranded on the beach, free to leave as soon as the high tide came back.

It had been four days since Remus, Roman, Nija, Kai and Elliott had gone to scout the island.

It had been two days since Logan had gotten so restless he couldn’t wait anymore and had gone out to search for them together with Janus, Patton and Muk, leaving Virgil behind with those so familiar words.

“Keep watch over the ship, okay?”

Just that Logan always followed it up with “I’ll be back soon.”

He did it since he’d gone to pull the last lever and Virgil had broken down. They all made sure to promise that they’d be back since then. That they wouldn’t abandon the ship and him with her.

Logan didn’t really have to say it with the request.

Virgil would agree anyway.

He always watched over the ship.

He had to.

But it had been two days since they’d left.

The island wasn’t that big.

At least the first group should be back by now.

Unless something bad had happened to them.

Virgil anxiously glanced to the horizon, where the sun was steadily moving closer to the sea.

Soon it would be six and three days.

“I should do something...”

Nobody answered.

“But I need to watch the ship... I could take the ship with me. It would be hard on my own but I could do it. But then I’d have to...”

His gaze wandered towards the steering wheel and he swallowed past the forming clump in his throat.

“No...”

Virgil sunk down until his head rested on his arms.

“Sundown,” he decided. “I’ll wait till sundown. Then I’ll go look.”

He looked down at the sand.

“If I can.”

The twins both like to wonder what he was. They never listened when he said human, but they did listen when they asked if he could leave the ship and he didn’t answer. They’d listened and taken it as a no.

But it wasn’t.

It was an “I don’t know.” An “It’s been so long since i tried that I can barely remember.”

Maybe Remus was right. Maybe he was a ghost tied to the ship and he had just never noticed that he’d died.

What would happen then if he tried to leave? Would he just disappear?

The thought scared him.

But the thought of losing yet another crew was scarier. Because how long would it take this time before their faces became too blurry to recall? How long until he didn’t know their names anymore or couldn’t be sure if they’d been part of this crew or one of the others?

He sighed.

About an hour later the last rays of sunlight barely tinted the horizon orange, lingering even though the sun was already gone.

Carefully Virgil climbed down the strick ladder. Inches above the ground he stopped.

Just underneath his foot was the sand.

He bit his lip and stared down at it.

Taking a deep breath he scrunched his eyes shut and lowered himself to the ground.

The sand was soft and shifted under his bare feet. Virgil curled his toes into it and opened his eyes again.

Slowly he let go of the ladder and took a step back.

A mix of anxiety and exitement swirled in his stomach.

He could leave. He wasn’t a ghost. That was good, very good, because that meant that he could find the others and be back before anything happened to the ship.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her. Then he turned and ran towards the forest.

The rough ground, sticks and stones felt strange but at the same time brought back echos of memories he’d long forgotten.

At another time he might’ve stopped and chased these echos, but right now he had to find his crew, before they became nothing but an echo as well.

It took him less than an hour to find a building hidden between the trees.

Well, that was an explanation at least.

Virgil snuck downhill to the gate and looked around uneasy. He didn’t like this place and the longer he was away from the ship the more he felt like it was a bad idea to leave at all.

-_-_-_-_-

Janus cursed and let the lock fall back against the metal bars.

“I can’t open it,” he muttered, stuffing the toothpick back in his pocket. He muttered something about “If I had an actual lockpick-” but no one was listening anymore.

Logan sighed.

“Great. So we’re stuck here,” he rubbed his temples. “I fucking hate cults.”

“If they at least wanted us for our bodies,” Remus spoke up, sounding genuinely disappointed. “But nooo... We’re just human sacrifices. I’m too hot to die.”

“Bitch, you’re gross,” Roman elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m the hot one.”

“Guys, we’re about to be killed, can you argue about who’s better looking some other time?” Nija groaned. “Besides, I’m obviously hotter.”

The door to the hallway opened and Logan tensed.

A guard fell to the ground with a chatter.

“What the-?”

A small figure slipped inside.

“Virgil?” Logan stepped up to the cell bars.

“You can leave the ship?” Janus raised an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

“Are you okay?” Virgil’s voice shook slightly.

“About to become god sacrifice but other than that okay,” Roman smirked. “Can you break the lock?”

“I can try,” Virgil raised his knife and took the lock in hand.

It fell just moments later and the cell door slid open. Nobody listened when Janus muttered that it was easier with a knife.

They only encountered two people on their way out but they didn’t even get the chance to shout before they were knocked out.

Logan let his gaze linger on Virgil.

Even though it had been over ten years he was still a teenager. Maybe a bit older than back when they’d met but barely.

He was shorter than Nija and didn’t even have that awkward lankyness most teens had, as if he hadn’t even reached his growth spurt yet.

Logan heard Remus chuckle behind him which was usuall a bad thing, but before he could react Remus had swooped past him, taken his hat and dumped it on Virgil’s head.

It slid over his eyes and Virgil stumbled before pushing it up slightly.

He shot Remus a confused look and went to take the hat off but Logan stopped him.

“Keep it for now. It suits you.”

-_-_-_-_-

Logan pulled the grip slightly and watched the ship pass though ‚the curtain‘ as Roman had named it. There was something nervwrecking about sailing through the very fabric of reality into another world.

He also had to be ready for any terrain they might end up in and had to be ready to adjust as needed.

„Sky!“ Virgil called and immediatly everyone was moving.

The main mast was split in half into wing like constructions in seconds, far quicker than the first time they‘d flown.

Logan streered them higher until they broke through the clouds and were under the bright morning sky of another world.

„There‘s something starboard!“ Virgil called. „I think it‘s an Island!“

„Can we check it out?“ Patton turned to Logan with a wide smile.

„Sure, why not?“

It didn‘t take long for the island to come into view and Virgil climbed down to lean against the railing.

„How…?“ Logan heard him whisper and he leaned over it, nearly falling. „It is!“

„Do you know this place?“ he asked.

If Virgil heard him he ignored him completely. He dashed over the ship towards the bow.

“The island has a harbour,” Janus called over to Logan. “Should we land?”

He glanced over to Virgil and back to Logan.

“Yes, let’s land.”

“Can I come with you?” Virgil asked as soon as they landed in the harbour. “Please?”

He had left the ship only two times even after the cult island, usually refusing when Patton or anyone else offered to take him on shore.

“Of course,” Logan answered. Virgil still hadn’t answered how he knew this place, but if it was this important to him, Logan couldn’t exactly say no.

While Patton, Janus, Mul and Nija stayed behind, Logan, Virgil and the twins wandered away from the ship, and Logan watched Virgil grow more and more restless, looking for something.

They didn’t meet a single person in the narrow streets of what looked like had once been a rich town. Remus wondered aloud if they’d find corpses anywhere, earning himself a playful smack from Roman.

The sudden sound of footsteps made them stop on a crossroad.

Logan let his hand rest on his cutlass.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had guests around here,” a man’s voice spoke up behind them.

Virgil swirled around in a heart beat.

“Dad!”

He dashed towards the man and tackled him in a hug.

“What?!” Roman blurted out.

The man looked down at Virgil slightly confused. He had a scruffy beard and dark tanned skin. He looked like someone who worked outside in the sunlight a lot.

He reached up to put his hands on Virgil’s shoulders and pushed him off slowly.

“Virgil?” he asked, sounding just as surprised as Roman. “You’re alive?”

“I watched over the ship,” Virgil smiled up at the man. “Just like you told me to!”

But the man didn’t even seem to listen.

“How are you alive?” he asked, louder this time. “I sent you out of this world into time so you could age. You shouldn’t be alive!”

“What do you mean?” Logan could hear the smile slip off Virgil’s face.

“I put you on that ship to die. What are you doing back here?” the man nearly growled this time.

“What-? You said you needed me to watch over her,” Virgil sounded so much more like the kid he was, than Logan had ever heard him.

Following an impulse he stepped forward and put his body between Virgil and the man.

“Who are you?” the man hissed at him.

He was intimidating, sure, but Logan had messed with gods before. He wasn’t afraid of this asshole.

“I am Captain Logan Conley. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

-_-_-_-_- 

Virgil heard Dad answer but he couldn’t really hear what he said. His ears were ringing.

Here on the Island there was no time, he knew that. It was why Dad had taken him elsewhere a lot when he had been little. Just so he would actually age.

But this time Dad had wanted him to stay gone.

He’d sent him away to die.

Suddenly everything was too loud.

The Captain was yelling and Dad was yelling and Dad had lied, he’d lied to him, he’d wanted him dead!

He had to get away.

Virgil ran past the twins, through the familiar paths back to the ship.

Muscle memory wanted him to climb up into the rigging - “You have to watch over the ship, it’s important” - but that was a lie too, wasn’t it?

“Hey, kid-” he barely heard Patton as he rushed past and down into the ship’s hold.

Down in the cargo bay he curled up, hiding behind a crate.

For a while he was alone. Long enough for him to catch his breath and stop crying at least.

Then he heard footsteps.

“Can we sit down by your side?” Remus asked, his voice softer than usual.

Virgil glanced up.

The twins stood a few feet away, waiting for an answer.

He nodded.

Remus sat down to his left, Roman to his right.

“Hey, kid,” Roman said.

“Hey,” Virgil’s voice sounded brittle even to his own ears.

“So, this is where you’re from,” Roman nodded. “It’s a nice Island... How long did you live here?”

Virgil shrugged.

“There’s no time here,” he said even though he was pretty sure they had gathered that much by now. “Physically,” he added after a moment of thought,” I think I was... six?”

His voice wobbled on the last word as more tears threatened to spill.

Remus sighed.

“You know, family is pretty complicated sometimes,” he spoke up. “You always think, and people tell you, that family is your blood and the people you grow up with. Like your dad for you, my father and mother, so on and so fourth. But... That’s bullshit. It’s absolute crap. Family has nothing to do with blood.”

Virgil glanced up at him again.

“But you and Roman are brothers. You’re blood. You’re family.”

“We are,” Roman nodded. “But we’re family that just so happens to also be blood.”

Virgil frowned.

“I don’t get what you mean.”

“Family are the people you choose. The people you feel safe around, who you trust and who just... feel like home,” Remus tried to explain. “I know this sounds cliche but I don’t know how else to put it.”

“What we’re trying to say is... It’s hard when the people who you thought were supposed to love you don’t and you don’t know why, but it’s not your fault. And it doesn’t mean you’re alone. There are people who will love you,” Roman put an arm over Virgil’s shoulder. Lightly enough that Virgil could easily shake it off if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

“If you want us to, we could be your family,” Remus suggested.

“I-” Virgil’s breath hitched. “I’d like that.”

“Come here,” he could hear Roman smile and the next thing he knew he was being hugged from both sides.

He couldn’t stop himself from crying again.

“Don’t tell him I said this,” Remus spoke up again after a while,” but I’m pretty sure the Captain thinks of you as his son.”

“Patton definitely does,” Roman nodded.

“Patton thinks we’re all his kids,” Virgil managed between sobs.

“And honestly, I think we are.”

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die - Chapter 2

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 2)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: Names are powerful things--and after ten years, Logan's has acquired quite a bit. The restoration of his power is something he has to fight viciously to keep secret...But he's not the only necromancer who's in hiding. Above his head, Roman is being introduced to the people of the Kingdom's as his father's successor--but someone in the shadows is coming for the royal house of Sanders, of which Roman is part.And Logan will not stand for someone laying figurative hands on anyone that belongs to him.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), future Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: lots of death because necromancy, slash, and more to come as I figure it out ‘cause it’s late and I’m tired. In this particular chapter, CW for angst--I’ll post what kind at the end if you want to avoid spoilers, but I’m warning because for me? It’s a triggery subject. Be safe, you’re all so sweet and ILU.

Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1025, A.A.

“Berry?”

Logan was yanked from a sound sleep by the utterance of his name—not the sound, but the feeling of it. Crawling around inside his skull like ants, static electricity shocking his neural pathways and the core of his essence. It was red strings and his first meal after that one stretch in the dungeon's blackout cells after he punched the guard that dislocated his shoulder.

Logan Berry. Logan Berry. The gift from his guardian angel was two years old at this point...and Logan was starting to wonder if it was more than just a small reminder of his personhood, to keep the harsh world around him from breaking his spirit.

Sitting up, Logan rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses where they sat on the floor beside his pallet. When they had finally given them back to him two weeks after his arrival, the right lens had been all but shattered. The guard who had returned them—the same one who injured him—smiled far too wide for Logan's liking, inciting the attack that had gotten him punished.

“I am awake.” he announced softly, sliding his glasses on and rising from his pallet to approach the bars of his cell. Squinting in the low torchlight, he searched...

A point of bright yellow sunlight, slit down the middle by a reptilian pupil gleamed in the shadows before the body it was attached to came into view. Swiftly, it was joined by another eye, very much human and dark as chocolate. A sweep of hair as black as Logan's own fell across his forehead, and the torchlight gleamed across the burnished surface of the scales that covered half of the young drake's face and neck.

“Of course.” the drake shot back dryly, not quite managing to hide the sibilant accent inherent to his species. “That's why you were snoring.”

“What do you want, Janus?”

The eighteen year old Janus narrowed his mismatched eyes at Logan—but quickly gave up on trying to look intimidating. He hardly needed it, being not only older, but the son of the captain of the guard.

“A favor.” he admitted, sparking enough of Logan's interest to banish the last of the cobwebs lingering in his head. Janus didn't like being indebted to anyone—and, to that end, usually came to Logan for favors, as Logan was always perfectly willing to trade his assistance for some commodity, be it books, food, or the repair of his glasses.

“What is the favor?” Logan asked.

Janus said nothing for a long moment, staring into Logan's face...no, not his face. Squinting, he realized Janus was quite deliberately avoiding direct eye contact by focusing on a point just above Logan's eyes, somewhere around his forehead.

“Janus?...”

Shutting his eyes, Janus ducked his head.

“I...need a name.”

“A...what?”

“A name, all right? Like the one you picked for yourself.”

Logan was startled by that request—he told no one about the boy who came to him, claimed he made up his own surname to replace the Name that was stripped away. Some of the guards disliked it, stirring fresh retellings of the legends of the Lazari: necromancers with the power not merely to raise the dead, but craft true, living souls from sheer force of will.

He even heard some new ones about the Animata: a theoretical balance to the Necromata, magic practitioners that could manipulate life the way necromancers manipulated death. From the stories Logan overheard while pretending to sleep with guards outside his cell, the Animata had been wiped out by the rise of the Animator, the First of the Necromata, leading to his rise and attempted enslavement of the Kingdoms. With the Animata gone and unable to keep the balance in check, the king had been forced to slay the Animator and had outlawed necromancy soon after.

All stories, of course...but over the last two years, as his name wormed through his brain the way the power of the prison mages had, it sometimes made him wonder. After all, mythology and legend served two functions in human history: explaining natural phenomenon that were not yet understood, or hyperbolic retellings of one or many actual events.

So the prison guards talked, wondered if Logan had designs on restoring his own Name through the adoption of a new one—but Janus, for all his trust issues and ilicit dealings, was an intelligent boy with a good head on his shoulders. He wasn't one for fanciful stories—only those that he could tell in the name of manipulating others.

Perhaps that was why he felt some measure of shame or embarrassment for asking Logan this favor? There was clearly some...unidentified emotion behind the request, and Logan wasn't particularly good at coping with emotional issues. He highly suspected that, when he still had a Name, he had been essentially the same.

“...I want to be allowed to keep books in my cell.” He hadn't meant to say anything indicating agreement—but the words fell out of his mouth without any conscious permission.

Janus's head snapped up sharply. This time, he met Logan's gaze with an intensity that was decidedly threatening.

“That's all?” he asked, squinting after a long moment. “No...commentary?”

Logan shrugged. “You know I do not care for sentiment. Your obvious flirtation with it, in this situation, does not interest me so much as what I can gain from the moment of weakness on your part.”

“Are you sure you're only fourteen? You sound way too much like my grandpa sometimes.”

Logan rolled his eyes, declining to rise to the bait. Instead, he gave the matter what he felt was a comically superficial amount of consideration.

“Hart.” he finally decided.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, mismatched eyes losing focus for a moment before he nodded to himself.

“That...works surprisingly well.” he mumbled, seemingly more to himself than anything. Refocusing on Logan, Janus straightened and once again resumed his attempts at exuding as commanding a presence as he could manage.

“You'll get your books.” Janus assured him. “I always pay my debts.”

“Past performance indicates this is an accurate assessment. Hence my request.”

“Oh...go back to bed.”

“Gladly.”

********** 1033, A.A.

“Ladies, lords, non-binary royalty, and all of my valued subjects!”

By the gods, I'm going to throw up.

Roman stood behind the curtain on the balcony, his heart in his throat. Every part of him was screaming to run, to hide, to sink into the floor and vanish through sheer force of his desire to not be there—to push Remus out to take his place when the king made his proclamation. Already, he could feel the weight of his impending responsibilities threatening to crush him, the world narrowing and the walls closing in...

He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready. He wasn't smart like Remus or as patient as his father, he wasn't commanding enough—he couldn't be king.

But he would be. One day.

Peering through the curtain, he saw his father turn...and though the pride in his face only made the terror worse, at the same time...

He could do this. He had to.

Smiling, King Thomas Sanders IV extended a hand towards him in silent encouragement. It was the same hand he offered to those subjects that knelt before him at court to have their grievances heard, the same hand he offered to both Roman and Remus as children when they felt shy or had fallen down while playing...

...or leading him back into the house when he was out to hunt a Lazari...

“I give you your future king—Prince Roman Sanders!”

A hand fell to his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

“Give 'em hell, Ro Bro!” Remus hissed gleefully in his ear.

It was strange, but some of the weight lifted itself off of Roman's shoulders, with his brother's hand there instead as he stepped out onto the balcony and into the sunlight.

For a moment, it was...magical. The ghost of Remus's fingers pressed into his shoulder, his father's hand curling warm around his nape—the people of the Kingdoms below, smiling and cheering in a symphony that filled his lungs as readily as it filled his ears, turning his heart into pure starlight.

For a moment, basking in his father's pride, his brother's confidence, and his people's love—he didn't just feel like he could do this, he knew that he could.

For a moment—that was all he got before his heart stopped beating.

It happened suddenly, but somehow it felt as natural as breathing. The tension of that missing engine powering the body and soul, the inability to draw breath. It was the peace of sleep, the flow of one step into the next while walking down an evenly paved road—he knew something was wrong, and yet he could not escape the manner in which it felt so normal.

Standing there, dying in front of the very kingdom he was meant to serve with no rhyme or reason for it.

Let it go...it felt so right, it felt proper.

As his vision began to dim, and the hand he'd raised to wave to the crowd started to fall by his side, he felt the urge to fight sliding out of him, eyes already slipping shut...

Easy as existing. Getting dark, time to sleep.

Until he heard a sigh next to him that was chilling.

The king.

Death no longer felt so inevitable, nor did it feel right. It was wrong, but...it was inside him, twisting and warping to form words that echoed inside his head. Something was slipping into the void left behind by the absence of a heartbeat, speaking to him in the Reaper's voice...

The necromancer.

**********

Logan was only aware of it in passing—however, Logan wasn't supposed to be capable of even that, and had to take such painstaking care to make sure that no trace of his magic could be felt anywhere. He had to keep the fact that he had power hidden, had to beat back every trace of it.

So he was aware of his magic, far more than he was aware of the distant stars that were the lives of every creature within the palace and beyond.

And the feel of his power waking, straining towards death? That hit him hard, made him focus on that awareness of what was happening.

“Lo? You okay?”

Logan spun in his seat and stood, stalking up to the bars of his cell. It was little more than a voice in another house, reaching him barely through thin walls and great distances...but it was growing closer, crossing that distance, too close too close too close...

“Logan? You're scaring me.”

Patton was at his side, watching him with wide, fearful eyes.

“Someone is killing the king.” Logan breathed.

“What? How can you possibly know that?” Patton hissed.

Logan opened his mouth...and nothing came.

Until that voice, hollow and honeyed, was suddenly in his house and in his veins and in his...in his.

For the first time, Logan understood why the Necromata were so feared—why he was locked below ground, why he had no Name of his own and why it was so desperately important to make sure no necromancer could ever practice their art.

The moment he sensed that foreign power encroaching on something that belonged to Logan alone, everything was chilling instinct and cold, calculating fury. The power swept up and took over, took action to reclaim what was being stolen.

The king was dying, but so was the Green Man.

Logan's last rational thought before an eerie blue light swallowed up his eyes and the power wiped his mind clean was that, if the Green Man was close enough to the king, he might actually be able to save them both.

********** The necromancer in the dungeons. Roman could feel it, he was certain of it...it felt cold and airy, thick morning fog swirling through his marrow yet rendering his mind strangely clear. It was familiar, not all that different from the way it felt when they touched in Roman's dreams.

The necromancer was there. He was...helping Roman.

You have to get to the king.

He didn't know, even after all these years didn't realize who Roman was, and that was the way it ought to be, and yet...he was warning Roman, he was--

The wrongness of it filled his chest in the space of a blink, filled his lungs, forced breath into his body. The fight squeezed every muscle, including his heart, in a steady rhythm that started his blood moving again. Roman tried to clutch at his chest, but he couldn't.

He felt cold all over, but his body was working, warring with some outside force, struggling to stay alive.

His body was no longer his to control, he realized with a rush of fear. The necromancer...chill fog, thick and light and clear, in his head and his veins and his heart...

Roman's body was turning, his head swiveling around, obeying an order he did not give.

The necromancer was animating him now, manipulating his every move—and all Roman could do was stand there and let it happen--

Go.

...Father!

This time, when he tried to move, his body obeyed him, his will and that of the necromancer uniting as one.

He rushed forward, reaching out...

In just enough time to catch the king as he fell, a corpse gone cold by the time the both of them reached the ground. ((CW: parental death--but this IS a necromancer AU. Just keep that in mind. XD))

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter Three: Clip 2

master list previous

...

Zondag 18:25

When Robbe had seen the message pop up on his phone in the middle of his Saturday afternoon stream, it had taken nearly all of his willpower not to answer it right there. He had toyed with the idea—multiple times—of sending a message to Sander. But every time that Robbe typed up a message and nearly hit send, he would talk himself out of it and delete it altogether. Then, Robbe had seen the notification on his lock screen—earthlingoddity sent you a message—and, despite the fact that he had started the stream thirty minutes before, he had been ready to leap to the phone to respond. 

Robbe managed to restrain himself from doing so, trying his best to focus on the stream and the chat while in front of the computer. Yet he didn’t even last an hour. Once his eagerness to read the message got the better of him, he announced that he was taking a break before immediately taking his phone in the other room. Despite the length of time that had passed between his text and Robbe’s response, Sander responded back immediately and their entire conversation made Robbe’s stomach swell. 

So much so that he nearly forgot to go back to the stream.

From the moment that Robbe sat down at the table—the one next to the jukebox that Sander said he loved so much—he could feel the nervous bubble in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know why he was so nervous to meet Sander. It wasn’t the first time that he was alone with Sander. They had been short interactions, all interrupted by something or someone they couldn’t control, but they had been nice all the same. Yet he felt nervous; like he was sixteen all over again, heading out on his first date with the first guy he liked. 

And it brought up another question—was this a date?

In every sense of the word, except for being labeled as such, it felt like a date. Robbe and Sander were two people meeting up at a bar to hang out, have a few drinks, and get to know each other. Since Wednesday, all of their conversations—especially their texts in the past 24 hours—had been flirtatious. Whenever Robbe thought about it, it felt like a date or, rather, a potential date. For all he knew, Sander simply wanted to hang out because they got along so well. Maybe he flirted with everyone. 

When Sander arrived, dressed in a graphic shirt, a pair of skinny jeans that curved to his legs, and a blinding smile, Robbe felt his stomach clench a little. The bleach-blond headed over to the bar gracefully, where, as soon as he had stepped inside, the bartender had placed a beer on the counter. Sander waited until she served another then, moved to the table where Robbe was waiting and placed one of the glasses on the coaster in front of him. 

“I hope a beer is okay,” Sander said, grinning at him.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Robbe replied, moving the glass closer to him. 

There was a moment of silence that drew out in the space between them. It wasn’t like the silence that he experienced with Thomas, especially in the last months of their relationship, where it felt like someone was dragging their nails across a chalkboard. That silence was the kind that could make a minute feel like an hour, as Robbe teetered uncomfortably on scattered eggshells. With Sander, the silence felt warmer and more comfortable, as though both of them were unsure how to start, but there was an eagerness in the air like they couldn’t wait to begin.

Robbe took a sip of his beer, swallowing his nerves. “So,” he said. Sander glanced at him, raising his glass to his lips. Robbe searched for a question to ask, trying not to seem too invasive, before settling on. “How did you and Senne meet?” 

“Let’s see,” Sander chuckled. There was a serious look on his face as he launched into the story. Robbe leaned forward to anticipation. “It was a month or two after he and Zoë split up. There was this little bakery near my apartment that I would always go to. One morning, I was rushing to get croissants for my step-mother as Senne was entering the store and you can imagine what happened.” Robbe laughed. “And, after that, we started talking when we were both in the store—the general stuff, studies, relationships. Then, we exchanged numbers. Once that happened, we were virtually inseparable and he quickly became my best friend.”  

“That’s awesome,” Robbe commented. “I’m glad that he found a friend after leaving the flatshare.”

“Yeah, it’s been a fun time,” Sander said before asking, “Do you have a job on campus?”

Robbe shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said. “I—” Robbe caught himself before he could continue, biting down on his bottom lip. Sander glanced up questionably and Robbe shook his head. “No, I don’t really have a job. My dad helps pay for my expenses and stuff.” 

“That’s nice of him,” Sander said. 

“Yeah, I think he might still feel guilty,” Robbe admitted. 

“What for?” 

As Robbe launched into the story about his father leaving his mother, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about the white lie that he had told Sander. 

Over the past two years of streaming full-time, he had grown used to the upturned noses, uncomfortable looks, and snide remarks about how he should “grow up.” There were people in the world who didn’t believe that Robbe could make a comfortable living by playing games on the Internet or liked to voice their opinions on his life. While Robbe knew he couldn’t do it permanently, at least at his current level, Robbe never felt comfortable hearing people rip into what he loved. Generally, he avoided talking about it until he knew someone better. 

When Thomas had found out, back in their second month of dating, Robbe had been worried that he would react that way. But Thomas had surprised him. He had wanted to learn more about Fortnite and watched his streams in between classes and studying. Thomas had been one of the rare exceptions of the people he dated in that regard. If Sander launched into a tangent about what he was doing to get money for bills and expenses, Robbe wouldn’t know how to feel.

“That sucks,” Sander said, pulling Robbe out of his thoughts. His companion was staring at Robbe as he traced the rim of his glass with his pointer finger, the silver band glinting in the light of the bar. “I never had to go through a divorce so I can’t imagine how heavy that must’ve been.”

“Yeah,” Robbe admitted. “When my dad left, my mom crashed. I tried my best to be there for her, but I knew there was only so much I could do. I resented him for leaving us and then for trying to take me away from her. But since then, we’ve managed to repair our relationship a little.”

“That’s good,” Sander said. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it’s never going to be the way it was before,” Robbe said sadly. Seeing Sander’s soft gaze, those green eyes pointed directly at him, Robbe had to fight the blush growing on his cheeks and ducked his head down. “I don’t know. Sometimes I get nostalgic.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sander said. He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. The song playing on the jukebox behind them ended and it let out a light buzz as it searched for a new song to play. Sander shrugged his shoulders as he turned to Robbe. “Sometimes I like to think about what might have happened if—” 

Suddenly, a song broke out from the speakers. Sander cut himself off mid-sentence. For a second, it looked like something else washed over him. His head tilted back, letting out a content sigh, and Robbe simply watched him in curiosity. His eyes lingered on the beauty mark on his cheek and the mole on his neck. Then, as soon as it began, Sander snapped out of it and turned to him again. Robbe didn’t even register the embarrassment of being caught because Sander was speaking again, “Do you know David Bowie?” 

“A little,” Robbe admitted. 

Truth to be told, Robbe had heard of David Bowie before. One evening, Thomas had taken Robbe out to a small restaurant near the campus. While the two of them were talking, a song came on the radio that caused Thomas’s nose to twist up in disgust and a sneer covered his face. Soon after, Thomas had launched into a mini-rant about David Bowie and 80s music and how he hated the rift or the acoustic. Every time a particular song would come on, Thomas would launch into a discussion about it, ripping the song and its lyrics to shreds. Most times, Robbe would tune the majority of the rant out, trying to hone in on the song he hated so much. Since then, Robbe made sure to never bring up David Bowie or switch the station.

Even if he was enjoying the song. 

“So,” Sander said, bringing him back. “By ‘a little,’ you mean ‘not at all.’” 

“What? No, I do,” Robbe said, laughing. 

“Okay,” Sander said, smirking at him. “Name three of his songs.” 

“Okay, challenge accepted. Space Oddity,” Robbe listed off, holding up one finger. In the briefest of moments, Sander’s face lit up and his emerald green eyes somehow got brighter. “Life on Mars, and…” he trailed off, holding up a second finger. Robbe bit down hard on his lip, trying (and failing) to ignore the soft look on Sander’s face. “Ah, and Heroes.” As Robbe glanced over to him, the corner of Sander’s lips tugged up and Robbe leaned towards him. “How did I do?”

“Three out of three,” Sander said, grinning. 

Robbe fist-pumped. 

“I’m impressed,” Sander admitted, leaning toward him. “You don’t really strike me for a Bowie fan.” 

“I’m not,” Robbe admitted. At his admission, Sander looked downright offended. Robbe felt his cheeks flush under Sander’s intense gaze and he quickly added, “At least, not really. I’ve heard a handful of his songs on the radio and I really liked them. But when it came to older music, specifically David Bowie, uh, my ex-boyfriend was always incredibly opinionated about it.” 

There was a disgusted look on his face as Robbe took the final drink of his beer. “How opinionated?” Sander asked, curious.

“Bad opinionated,” Robbe admitted. He shrugged and leaned on the edge of the table. “Every time an 80s song would come on, he would launch into a rant about the acoustics or the lyrics of the particular song. I’m not sure if it was specifically 80s music, but that’s what he would say it was. And it would go on forever. From the way he was talking, you would have thought he was arguing a case in a courtroom, not talking about a song on the radio that he didn’t have to listen to.” 

For a moment, Sander was quiet. His bright green eyes were staring at Robbe intensely, and Robbe couldn’t help the need to stare right back. As his brown eyes connected with Sander’s green ones, he felt the electric spark shoot through him again. Robbe bit down on his lip, refusing to look away as Sander continued. Then, Sander announced, “Well, your ex-boyfriend has bad taste.”

Robbe blinked, confused. “Huh?” 

“What? He does,” Sander said, matter-of-factly. He twisted on his stool and grabbed his empty beer glass in one hand. Turning to Robbe, he held up one finger. “Firstly, he doesn’t like David Bowie or, as you say, ‘80s music,’ which is an automatic sign that he doesn’t have good taste.” 

“I think your scale is a little biased,” Robbe said, grinning at him.

“Maybe a little,” Sander admitted, shrugging “But David Bowie is an amazing artist and what I wouldn’t give to have discovered him sooner.” Robbe chuckled, shaking his head. “And, secondly,” Sander added, holding up a second finger. “He broke up with you, right? From our talk the other day, you didn’t seem to actually want to end the relationship.”

“Yeah,” Robbe whispered. “He was the one that wanted to break up.” 

“There you go,” Sander stated. He reached toward Robbe, grabbing the empty glass out of his hands. Robbe looked at him as Sander leaned closer to him, grinning from ear-to-ear. “No one with a good sense of taste would walk away from you. Your ex broke up with you. Therefore, even if he did like David Bowie, he couldn’t have good taste.” 

Robbe swallowed, his stomach swelling unexpectedly. As his brain struggled to keep up with what Sander had just said, Robbe found himself struggling to keep the heat from rising to his cheeks. 

With a knowing look in his eyes, Sander held up the glass that Robbe had relinquished. “Did you want a refill?”

“Yeah,” Robbe replied. When his voice cracked a little, he swallowed again. Thankfully, his voice didn’t crack as he added, “Yes, I would like a refill. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sander grinned, sliding off the stool with ease. “I’ll be right back.” 

Robbe nodded. As Sander moved to the bar, Robbe watched him without hesitation. Once Sander reached the bar and handed over the glasses, the bartender, an older woman with brown hair, quickly set to work with refilling the glasses. As the two of them talked, Robbe couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sander. Even if he wanted to, which he didn’t, Robbe couldn’t stop thinking about Sander and his confession. Quickly, Sander glanced over at him and smiled once he saw Robbe was looking. 

Without thinking, Robbe returned the smile before shifting his attention elsewhere. As he focused on the nearby television, which was playing a football game, Robbe let out a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves as one thought ran through his mind. Now, it definitely felt like a date.

[starshineandbooks]

Delia sanders and the case of having family

Chapter one, what's sixteen years between family? A disaster.

Word count - 1,613

Pairing - LAMPD

Warnings - implied/referenced child abuse, cursing, threats. Tell me if I missed any

Patton messes up in this one. A lot.

    Patton stands beside his partners and children, eyes wide and searching as he looks about the airport for his boyfriend’s brother- Patton’s pseudo brother and unofficial brother-in-law- and someone who’s supposed to be his daughter.

    He’s shaky, worried, and of course scared.

    What will their daughter think of them? What will she think of her siblings? What if she hates them? 

    What if-

    “Roman! Boys!” Thomas smiles kindly, “You’re here! I sent Remus and Delia to the hotel, I know you wanted to see them here but- They needed to get out of the airport.”

    “Same.” Virgil grunts, “Meet you there?”

    “Of course! See you soon, oh- I’m so glad you get to see her.”

    Time seems frozen and simultaneously fast as they drive to the hotel, Roman and Patton talk, to fill the silence, trying to guess what Remus has been up to, what their daughter likes, if she likes poems and such.

    Janus, Logan, and Virgil listen to a murder podcast or other using headphone splitter, Janus and Logan sharing a set of earbuds.

    The boys talk happily, excited to meet their sister, the girl in the pictures.

    Nico greets them when they arrive, going to Thomas and Nico’s room first, and as if fate does not want them to see Remus and Delia again, the duo have disappeared to get dinner.

    Patton wants to scream.

    Thomas sits leaning against his husband, Nico’s, side, he speaks of Remus and Cordelia, though he’s said he’ll let them hear most of everything from them, “Remus is okay, he’s protective, of course, he always was. But- this is different. And Delia, she’s charming, but she gets the same look Janus does when she meet people, watch her.”

    Logan snorts, “I doubt we wouldn’t.”

    Patton feels rather numb to the world, but then the hotel door is opened- Nico answered it- and all heads turn to look.

    Remus, tall, wild as ever, and mustached like old times, stands beside a teenage girl. His hair has streaks of grey, Patton suspects that they aren’t dye like they used to be, and his clothes are paint splattered, manic grin in place.

    The girl looks foreign, Patton wants so badly to feel some parental tug to her, but he just doesn't, this isn’t his baby. His baby was taken when she was three, here is this strange teenager.

    Her brows knit slightly, barely noticeable, then she tilts her head, “Thomas, Nico?”

    “Delia!” Thomas grins, “Come on, these are your parents, and brothers I told you about.”

    Delia turns her gaze to her parents and brothers, “Nice to meet you,” She looks at her siblings lips quirking upwards, “You three are adorable, you know that?”

    “YEs!” Harley and Brian declare together, Pryce giggles outright in lue of response.

    “Cordy?” Janus asks, eyes meeting hers.

    “I prefer Delia,” She says, “If you don’t mind?”

    “Of course, yes! Delia!” PAtton says, and even he winces internally at the jarring peppiness to his voice, “We’re so glad to meet you- I mean- See you again!”

    She chuckles, soft, polite- Patton can’t help but think it’s an act, a dirty dirty trick- and she smiles sweetly, eyes almost sparkling, “It’s been a long time, I hate to upset you but I don’t remember you, so it is like a first meeting.”

    A dirty trick indeed, Patton thinks to himself. She would make an excellent actor, too bad she has the same tell Janus does, the slight over blinking, though she seems to have learned how to hide even that fairly well.

    No one seems particularly inclined to speak, they all stare at her and Remus.

    Delia stands fairly tall for a woman, Patton would put money that she is about six foot tall, hair that’s not wavy but not quite curly either in a dark shade, and startlingly gold eyes. 

    Remus stands about a head taller than Delia, watching over his shoulder, he never used to do that. It’s starling to see him so jumpy after knowing him to be the reason other people are jumpy.

    “I’m Logan,” Logan says, finally shifting a little, “It’s very good to see you home again.”

    “Thank you, Logan,” Delia smiles.

    Patton just can’t say that this- woman is his daughter. It can’t be the same person. His Cordy had been a vibrant, wild, cheery little toddler with big blue eyes like Logan’s and blonde hair like Janus’. She had been a gleeful singing monster, she’d called her parents variations of dad, not by first name.

    This Delia- this teenager was not his daughter, surly the others knew it too. He wouldn’t kick her out, he would try to love her, but this woman is not the same person his daughter is, they can’t be the same.

    Remus growls lowly, and everyone stares at Patton in varying states of shock, Patton realizes weakly and too late he had said that out loud.

    How on god’s earth did he manage to say that outloud.

    “Kiddo I-”

    “It’s okay,” Delia says, though the way her tone is falsely happy really dosen’t assure Patton, she stares him down, charming on the outside but her gaze is as cold as he’s ever seen, “I didn’t recognize you as my father either.”

    Even if Patton doesn't feel a parental pull towards Delia, the words still hurt.

    “Patton,” Logan says sternly, “You owe Delia an apology.”

    “I’m so sorry kiddo! I didn’t mean to say that I just- It’s so much and- goodness, you must be overwhelmed too.”

    Delai looks at PAtton, then “It’s fine, Patton.”

    The others must have done interactions while he zoned out.

    “Patt,” Logan gentles, “I know it’s hard, and you’re entitled to being upset but this is a scared child, she needs adults.”

    Patton misses the way Delia bristles at the words, but Janus sees the way she does, the settles serenely.

    “Patt,” Virgil sighs, “I get that, okay? But you need to do better.”

    “Delia,” Remus says finally, “Let’s go shower, I know you’re tired.”

    “But,” Logan protests, “We just-

    “Good night, I’ll talk to you later.” Remus says firmly, placing food down for them before stalking out, Delia at his side.

    Nico and Thomas sigh, sharing a look.

    Delia and Remus shower in relative silence then Remus asks finally, “So, what do you think?”

    Delia shrugs, “The boys are cute, they seem like good kids.”

    “Yeah.”

    “Logan and Patton seem- pretentious and I don’t like them at all.” Delia says after a moment, knowing Remus will always be there, he’s proven it time and time again, “I can’t believe Patton was rude enough to say that. I mean- I know I’m not what they wanted.”

    “That’s not true, they just wanted you, you’re you!”

    “They wanted me when I was three, which fine, I don’t mind that. But then Logan backs Patton up?!”

    “Oh little trash baby,” Remus coles gently, “It’ll be okay.”

    “I know.”

    “Good. Now, little mistake, get some sleep.”

    “Go talk to them,” Delia says.

    “What?”

    She sighs then, “I know you missed them, go talk to them, they’re your family.”

    “But-”

    “You’ll be next door. I can protect myself for a few hours, even if I hate them, I want you to be happy. Go on.”

    “I’ll check on you every half hour.”

    “I know.”

    Remus sighs, moving to his niece and ruffling her hair, “We’ll be alright kid.”

    “Good night, cephy.”

    “Good night, kitty.”

    Remus slips out of the hotel room, and Delia is left alone to reflect. An awful decision, really.

    She stares ta the ceiling, and her mind wanders over her day, focusing on the set of boys that supposedly are her brothers.

Her uncle always told her that most people are useless and should be used for her own gain, to keep her ahead of the game. 

But he also said she should never ever use children, or those she cares for. 

Remus also told her that there are good people, and she should protect them, not use or harm them.

Her brothers, she thinks they're adorable, she'd like to try to be there for them at least, like only Remus was for her. Those three boys deserve better than Logan and God forbid Patton.

Delia hums letting her eyes slip closed, letting the silence soothe her troubled mind.

---

Remus sits himself by his parents, glare leveled on Patton, "How dare you, how fuxking- I'll rip your fucking tounge-"

"Remus!" Virgil hisses looking completely scandalized.

"Screw off," Remus snaps, "You heard what he said to my sweet little trash baby!"

Everyone pauses at the endearment, a weird and very Remus sentiment.

"We're not saying he's right," Roman sighs.

"You weren't saying he was wrong!" Remus snaps.

"Remus," Thomas soothes gently, "we are all very glad to see you and Delia safe and alive. But it was a shock for us, imagine being her parent-"

"I am!" Remus snaps, "I raised her as best I could! I am he dad, even if she calls me uncle or cephy, I bandaged her wounds, I tied her tourniquet, hell I preformed half of her abortions!"

He freezes, realizing the others are quiet.

"Abortions?" Janus asks.

Remus scoffs, "Nothing. If you ask her i will destroy you."

"Remus, I-" Patton winces then, "I didn't-"

"You're not her father, you were right, Delia isn't your daughter." Remus sneers, a growl rumbling from his chest. 

"Remus," Nico soothes, "Please."

Remus scoffs, "You don't know what this pike bag did to Delia. I ought to-"

"Remus," Roman says gently, "Patton was out of line, but please, can't we just have a calmer conversation? For the boys? They're next door with Logan, just please don't wake them."

Remus scoffs, but he resigns to crossing his arms and glaring at Patton.

Just like old times.

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @fanficloverinthesun

[count-woe-laf]

I want the truth

Prompt 33 - "I want the truth." - Roceit - @thefingergunsgirl

(Sorry I made it platonic roceit, but I didn't make it angsty so you don't have to pick your broken heart off the ground.)

I was planning angst but then it turned soft and then I edited it and completely changed it again.There might be a part where their conversation changes suddenly, I’ve never written this much dialouge, sorry. Also this this is the longest thing I’ve posted, 1 279 words.

Fifty shades of grey is mentioned because I was trying to be funny, I’m not funny.

June 1st, 2019.

It had been almost a month since the wedding. In that time Roman had talked to each side, he'd rewatched and theorized over the videos, Roman searched for the truth. He did it because he needed to know if he was good, if Thomas was a good person. He learned that good and bad barely meant anything, but that didn't mean he was bad. Roman just didn't want to make the wrong decision again. He was scared about this interaction, but he needed to talk to one last side.

Roman took a deep breath to steel himself, and sunk down into Janus' room.

Replacing the TV was an expensive old-fashioned radio, to his right hung thick black velvet curtains, a few posters and a lamp resided where the stairs were supposed to be, and there, next to the nonexistent stairs, stood Janus.

He looked like he was expecting Roman, and of course he was, he was Deceit, he seemed to know everything that was happening. Although, for knowing he was coming, Janus looked suprisingly awkward. His abandoned gloves could be to blame, Roman recently had learned about his attachment to them.

"Roman, to what do I owe you the pleasure?" Janus smiled, it was small and apologetic and a smile. It was interesting to see such a smile on someone like Janus, Roman instantly wanted to run away. He forced himself to remember that every side was changing and evolving, a hero would have a civil conversation with him.

His previous talks with Virgil had helped him realize that good people can make bad choices without them being bad, and another conversation with Remus taught him that there were no heroes or villains in real life. Roman hoped he was a hero nonetheless.

The silence after Janus spoke continued to stretch out, willing to be broken. "I'm trying to learn stuff from every side, talk to them,” Roman took a deep breath. “You're the only one left to talk to."

Janus adjusted his hat. "Ah, talking, I'm horrible at that."

"These past weeks have made it clear that I am too." Janus snorted. "I just- I want to know the truth. Your opinions on everything too. I know we've all been thinking about… everything that has happened."

Janus shifted, "The truth? I don't think there's one definite truth here, Roman. I do know I was wrong to manipulate you. I suppose it was my way to change Thomas' mind without having to deal with you all. Sometimes I forget that us sides are an aspect of him and he relies on you, I have to convince all of you too. I still haven't learned how exactly to work with everyone," he gave a small laugh. "I do know I need to be more clear with you, and the others. You gave up a lot going to the wedding just under the name of being good, and truly, I respect that.

"I know I haven't had the pleasure to get to know you closely, Roman, but I know that you, and Thomas, need to come to terms with the fact that the world is made up of varying shades of gray."

"I'm not going to read Fifty Shades of Grey, if that's what you're asking of me" They both laughed softly, awkwardly. "I've talked to the other sides a lot recently, and they all have helped me understand some things better. It's surprising, but Remus has some pretty good morals and opinions."

"He does, you just have to ignore the other… comments." Roman nodded in agreement. "I'm glad you're not still setting yourself to the 'hero' standard." Roman pointedly looked down. "Seriously?"

"I'm a prince, I have to! I help people, I have to be good and make the right decisions."

"Sometimes there isn't a right or wrong decision. Going to the callback and lying about where we were wouldn't necessarily be good, but it also wouldn't be bad. At times you just need to pick what's best for you.

"I know you don't do that, you forget about yourself, sometimes. You care so deeply about everyone that you ignore yourself just to give them more room. You're so terrified of being wrong, of being bad, that you don't realize how impossible that standard is to reach."

There was so much truth in what Janus was saying, Roman wanted so badly to believe it. "I just want to be good," Roman said, finally. "I want to be a hero, they're loved and never wrong. Heros care about the people, not him- themself." He hoped that Janus wouldn't notice Roman speaking about himself rather than a general hero, but he was Deceit, of course he heard it.

"But real-world heros care about themselves too." Roman let out a small hum. "Thomas trusts you to make a decision to the best of your abilities, Roman. Trust him too, it's a good choice to trust you."

"No, he-"

"Trust him. You give him his love of acting and his creativity. You are his hero."

Roman bit his lip, suddenly looking scared. ".... Really?"

"Yes, even though there's no heroes or villains, you'll always be Thomas' hero, ask him yourself. And I know choices aren't going to get easier for us or Thomas, but we can all do it, together." Roman nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "And by 'all of us' I mean all of us. Thomas needs us all to guide him."

"I know, and I'm coming to terms with that. All this change is just- it's so much."

"Growing up and learning is hard, but I think we'll be alright." Janus smiled. Maybe he was right.

"Thank you. I probably should apologize, I shouldn't have made fun of your name, Janus. I know that was a very vulnerable moment for you. I really need to learn to stop lashing out when I feel threatened. I hope you can forgive me, and from here on out, somehow we can try to learn to work together?"

"I would like that, Roman. I know we all just do what we think is best for Thomas. I accept your apology and hopefully you can accept mine. I don't think you're evil and neither is Remus."

Roman nodded, "I know, he just… gets on my nerves at times. I accept your apology, that whole video was a little bit of a trainwreck." Janus hummed in agreement. "I have had lots of free time to talk to everyone and may I ask… What in hell happened between you and Virgil?"

Janus laughed and pulled on his gloves. "That's a story for another time. By which I mean never." Roman rolled his eyes, they sat in their tentative silence for a second, hoping not to ruin everything again.

"I suppose I should go," Roman said finally. "We're filming another video, I… I hope to see you there."

For the embodiment of Deception, he did a bad job at hiding his surprise at the invitation. "I suppose I could show up and cause harmless trouble. Until then, have a good night, Roman."

“You as well, Janus.” And with that Roman slowly sunk out.

The conversation didn't go as bad as Roman expected. It was almost a nice interaction. Roman didn’t know when things would be ok, he just wished it would be soon. None of Thomas' sides truly knew what challenges would make themselves apparent in the future. But they would all keep going, together. They would try to work together, try to understand each other, and try to help each other in the ways they could. Trying was enough for now.

They'll be alright.

Anyways, I tried, I failed, you should go to sleep. Send me a prompt and I’ll write something short-ish and sanders side out of it eventually (you can pick a ship or characters if you like but I might change it). (I have a few in my inbox, sorry if it takes forever.)

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: Roman x His Mystery Boyfriend, Romantic Andy x Pryce, Intrulogical (Remus x Logan)

Word Count: 1,878 Words

Summary: Snakes, Deceit in the hospital yet again, and Roman being touch starved as usual.

Warnings: Sex Mentions, Cursing, Snake Mention, Cancer Mention, Sick Character, Immunocompromised Character, Food Mention, Death Mention, Touch Starved Character, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Note: Bolded and blockquoted are actions in their chatroom, not a message.

Usernames, a quick translation guide: Andy: Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero), Castor: schrodingersdumbass, Dayd: carniverousroomba, Dice: Dr. Bitch, Emile: Thera-pissed, Halley: aspermylastemail, Janus: SnekBoi, Logan: Momgan, October: eatpavementido, Orion: birdgeoisie, Patton: Papa Bear, Pollux: satantakemehome, Pryce: SwEeTvErUcA, Remus: Octopussy, Remy: Coffee Bandit, Roman: waaahluigi, Sirius: literalsunshine, Teal: uwu, Thomas: shrexy, Virgil: spipples, Vita: þiccness

A Very Sanders Group Chat: Chapter 8

1:17PM

SnekBoi: Inny, did you feed my snakes?

Octopussy: I did.

SnekBoi: Oh good, I was worried about Ceres. She's only taken her food from me before.

shrexy: Ceres?

Octopussy: baby Burmese Python Dee just got.

SnekBoi: And I have more snakes that will be laying soon.

Thera-pissed has kicked SnekBoi from the chat

Thera-pissed: Seriously, Inny, is he okay? He looks really pale.

Octopussy: well, he's in observation so, obviously, no. he's pretty much running himself down again. he said he plans to reopen his studio again on the fourteenth against me and Dice's medical advice. he's currently digging his hole and he's going to have to work his way out of it when he finally crashes again.

Thera-pissed: Well, how deep in the hole is he?

Dr. Bitch: Currently, he's at least twenty pounds underweight even though he's eating like he should, he's just burning it off by straining himself so much. He had at least two nosebleeds while he was hospitalized last night so it's inevitable that he'll have to do the induction again because it's just not working.

Octopussy: plus, this morning he couldn't open a tupperware I brought him, so I'd say he's pretty much back at the beginning again.

Dr. Bitch: You didn't tell me that you brought him extra food.

Octopussy: he said he'd tell you.

Dr. Bitch: So he's lying between us now.

Octopussy: maybe trying to make himself stronger by lying to people he's connected to emotionally?

Dr. Bitch: Maybe.

Octopussy: if he gets any better, maybe that's the point of his lying right now but just keep eyes on him so his lying can't backfire on him.

Dr. Bitch: I always have a nurse near his room. He's too dangerous left alone for too long.

Octopussy: I have to get back to work, Alice came in with Hannah and Hannah needs her fur de-matted again and if I make Riley deal with her for too long, he'll scream in the break room later.

Dr. Bitch: I wish you could just take the animal from the owners that don't care about them.

Octopussy: I'm not getting fired to rescue dogs, Dicey.

Octopussy: plus you have that kitten now, you can't take care of a month and a half old kitten, a dog, and your job.

Dr. Bitch: You're right and I hate you.

Octopussy: don't lie, bitch, you love me.

Dr. Bitch: Irrelevant.

Octopussy: anyway, work.

Dr. Bitch has deleted 12 messages

Dr. Bitch has added SnekBoi to the chatroom

SnekBoi: You booted me to talk about animals?

Dr. Bitch: No, we were talking about our Christmas present ideas for you and ended up talking about animals.

SnekBoi: Fine.

SnekBoi: Also, you're across the hall at the nurse's station talking to Miss Esme, I can literally see you, Dice, you could just say that to my face.

Dr. Bitch: And yet you just texted me back instead of calling over to me.

SnekBoi: Touche.

SnekBoi: Anyway, back to looking at snakes.

shrexy: Oh yeah, Dee, you breed snakes?

SnekBoi: Well, it started out an accident, actually. Me and Inny moved our rooms around last year after brumation and we put a few of my snakes that could be temporarily cohabed in bins together for a few days so we could do it and quite a number of the snakes got gravid. Roman owns a couple of the amazon tree boas, actually.

SnekBoi: This year we got a new adult garter thinking it was a boy and we only found out it was a girl when we saw Inny's garter snake locked with her and, by then she had already mated so we're just waiting now. Plus we actually decided to see what happens with our sunbeams, only because we want to at least try with them to get babies since it's so hard to get them not wild-caught.

waaahluigi: Livia and Caius are very happy by the way.

shrexy: I now want a snake.

SnekBoi: You really want me and Inny to vet you?

shrexy: Sure?

SnekBoi: Dice, can I have visitors?

Dr. Bitch: I have said this like four times each time you're in here. Only if they wear a mask and so do you.

SnekBoi: Fine. Thomas, come here and wear a mask.

shrexy: Why?

SnekBoi: Because I'm going to vet you first while Inny's working to get it out of the way and I can't leave the hospital for another six days so get in here.

shrexy: I guess I'm going in my head again.

2:40PM

SnekBoi: Trial number one is over. He passed.

waaahluigi: How!? It took me like three tries!

SnekBoi: He knows a lot about snakes, what can I say?

Momgan: Can confirm, Thomas knows quite a bit about snakes since he wanted learn if your scales were indeed slimy and he happened to fall down a rabbit hole and got extremely interested in them.

shrexy: Stop exposing my late-night rabbit hole knowledge to others, Logan.

Momgan: We all live in your head, it literally does not matter.

SnekBoi: Second trial; Inny. Someone you don't even know. Good luck.

shrexy: Yeah, I'm making him trial three, I'm buying snake stuff for trial two.

SnekBoi: Using the stuff I recommended or something else?

shrexy: Stuff you recommended.

SnekBoi: Smart man.

4:30PM

Octopussy: hey, Dee, I went home for lunch and guess what happened?

SnekBoi: No way. Baby garters? Did Venus have babies?

Octopussy: nope, neither. you remember how how we left Juno and Jupiter together earlier this year because we ran out of separators while we had to shift them from their quarantine bins to their enclosures?

SnekBoi: Tell me they didn't.

Octopussy: I think Juno's newly laid litter means they did.

SnekBoi: Well, it looks like unfortunately have baby rainbow boas.

spipples: I want one.

SnekBoi: You really want a snake? You've told us for years you didn't want to own them.

spipples: I was thinking of looking for a cute little noodle and Juno and Jupiter are just plain beautiful so their babies have to be pretty too.

SnekBoi: Reasonable, rainbow boas are pretty as hell.

Octopussy: do you even have an enclosure for a baby rainbow boa?

spipples: I already have an extra 20 gallon enclosure from getting Celeste. I got the wrong one. It was too small for Celeste so I ended up having a spare 20 gallon.

SnekBoi: Amazing, this one is the first one to already have both an enclosure and past snake experience with our babies.

spipples: Oh yeah, I've fed Minerva before.

SnekBoi: Do we even need to continue vetting him?

Octopussy: I still will, this is the first time Juno's had babies and I'm still counting.

SnekBoi: Jeez, how many are you at?

Octopussy: well, I'm doing it alone and I'm searching Juno's enclosure so I'm not even counting yet, I'm still cleaning. it has to be at least seven though.

SnekBoi: Good lord, Juno.

Octopussy: Juno cares not for your so called "lord", she will make any number of squirmy children she wants. and apparently that number was a lot. I'm already above ten.

SnekBoi: I believe it.

Octopussy: just look how pretty this bucket of large rainbowey worms are.

Octopussy: abakersdozenofrainbowboas.jpg

spipples: Wow, they're beautiful.

shrexy: Oh wow, they're so pretty!

waaahluigi: I would kill for them.

Coffee Bandit: I think they look very squirmy and cute. A+ work right there, Juno.

SnekBoi: Oh yeah, Virgil. Time for vetting. Come see me.

spipples: Wish me luck not to die.

Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero): Don't die, I'm not qualified to raise my nephews and niece.

spipples: Fair.

7:45PM

SnekBoi: I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep again. Live on without me, you feeble simpletons.

spipples: Yeah sure, jackass.

SnekBoi: Love you too, bastard.

spipples: Fair.

SnekBoi is offline

spipples: Hey, Inny, can we talk alone?

Octopussy: Nu-uh. I just got home and I'll be incriminated. Witness.

spipples: Fine, Andy, come with me.

Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero): Fiiiiiiine.

spipples, Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero), and Octopussy are now offline

shrexy: Should I be worried about them.

Dr. Bitch: Virgil seemed extremely worried about Deceit, which is seeable given Dee has declined in health quite a bit lately with his recurrence and he's not quite getting much better as of yet given he's stressing himself out more than he's helping himself get better.

shrexy: Isn't there a way to make him stop that?

Dr. Bitch: We're fortunately unfortunate that he's stubborn. His stubbornness has served well going through things like induction and maintenance but he's absolutely shit at consolidation.

shrexy: Do you think he'll be okay? He's just getting worse.

Dr. Bitch. Like I do with all my patients, I hope he'll get better but, right now, it doesn't seem like he will be unless something changes and he finally stops being so self-destructive.

shrexy: So, no?

Dr. Bitch: I don't think he will, but I don't think he'll die and he knows that. he's a part of you, he can't die, he'll just be in a lot of pain for a very long time and will likely go dormant.

shrexy: It's a relief he won't die but I don't want him to be in pain.

Dr. Bitch: Well, we don't really have a choice. We have the option of I either do my best and get him into remission again and hope it doesn't come back again or I give up on my favorite patient and let him drive himself into the ground again. And you have the option of living with him or rejecting him.

shrexy: I know.

Dr. Bitch: Now I need to work, I get to go home soon.

shrexy: Good luck, Dice!

Dr. Bitch: Yeah, yeah.

Dr. Bitch is offline

Momgan: I'm not surprised that I worked and this chat, yet again, is chaos.

Papa Bear: Yeah, it usually is chaotic while we aren't here, huh Lo?

Momgan: It is. Sometimes I'm shocked any of them have a single braincell between them.

Papa Bear: You're right! Our beloved braincell is at work, so they lose their minds.

waaahluigi: I resent that!

Momgan: We know you're chaotic because you miss us, Roman.

waaahluigi: No! I just get...

waaahluigi: ...bored stupid.

Momgan: Would you like to hug, Roman?

waaahluigi: Wait, you're offering to hug me? You? The robot?

Momgan: Well, given I am designated the group mother, I may as well give you motherly affection.

waaahluigi: I would kill to hug someone.

Momgan: Roman, are you touch starved?

waaahluigi: No! Of course not! I just like attention!

þiccness: He is. Mom refuses to admit it but he is touch starved quite frequently.

Momgan: I guess I'm staying with you then until you have had an adequate amount of touch.

waaahluigi: Hang on, gonna cry real quick because Lo's being so nice to me.

shrexy: Aw, bud! Cuddle pile on Roman time!

SwEeTvErUcA: You mean flop on my brother like he's a pancake and I'm butter? Great idea!

waaahluigi: Wait nonono!

uwu: Hey what was that bang?

waaahluigi: Ow.

uwu: Ah, two touch starved triplets. Makes sense. Carry on.

Momgan: Oh no, you're getting in on this too, Teal.

uwu: What god did I offend to be taken from doing my work like this?

Momgan: All of them.

uwu: Sounds about right, deal.

Taglist: @glaxyjellyfish @chronophobica @fear-ze-queer @imma-potatoo