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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 8 days

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The Worst Part

Could I possibly request some anxceit (platonic or romantic) where Virgil rescues Janus from some kind of danger? In the imagination, maybe? – anon

Hello hello! This might be a strange request, but I am such a sucker for both your merlin & sanders sides fic. If it strikes your fancy, I would love to see your rendition of an angst fic of a merlin au of sanders sides, with Virgil as merlin and a side of your choice as Arthur? I think the angst implications of that dynamic would be LOVELY – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: anxceit

Word Count: 2455

This is the worst part, honestly. It's not the frantic churning in his gut when he uses his magic, it's not the icy dread of what happens right after when he's trying frantically to avoid suspicion, it's not even the looks he gets when there's a few too many knights looking at him.

It's when they're back in the safety of Janus's chambers and Janus is swanning around like he's the one that saved the day, and he takes the opportunity to get as many insults into Virgil as he can.

Now, Virgil knows he's lucky: Janus's famous acid tongue isn't actually as sharp as he thinks it is, and he's in the unique position of being able to snipe back at the Prince of Camelot, but…death by a thousand cuts and all that.

"Oh, and of course, Virgil, you'll have to have one of the knights help you with that, I know you'd rather cut off your own arm than actually wield steel."

"Now, don't get all excited, this won't be nearly as fun as changing my sheets, but do try to pay attention…"

"—and don't worry, you won't be anywhere near any of the action, you'll be far enough back that your delicate little fingers won't see any specks of blood."

Some of them hurt worse than others. He can stomach the ones about him being unfamiliar with the castle and the citadel at large—he's from a tiny village, for crying out loud—and the ones about him being weak aren't the worst—he's seen the knights, Roman and Remus are terrifying when they want to be—but the ones about him being a coward?

Sometimes he wants to scream at Janus that he's braver than Janus could ever dream of being. That he's here, in the heart of a kingdom that's sworn to kill every single one of his kind, serving the Crown Prince that is determined to see it through, and he's still fucking here. He hasn't run for the hills, he hasn't turned tail and cowered in Logan's chambers, he's still here, taking those fucking insults, and he's damn proud of it. And, also, he's the one who saved Janus's royal arse earlier, so a thank-you for that and all the other times he's had to do that since coming here would be appreciated.

But that would be tantamount to suicide, and he's too much of a coward to get himself killed like that.

He's surprised, honestly, that Janus doesn't choose to poke fun at his obvious fear of fire. It's not as though he's very good at hiding it, not with the way he flinches from candles and does everything he can not to be responsible for lighting the prince's fire at the beginning of the night. Even when they're out in the fucking woods, making all the noise and light for any bandit to see, he shies away from the fire and shivers in the cold. Those are the only times he thinks he sees something like concern flicker in Janus's eyes.

"Virgil? Are you listening to me?"

"No."

Janus rolls his eyes. "Are you capable of doing such a thing, or have you just managed to guess your way through most of your duties up until now?"

"It's not as though you make it particularly difficult, 'here, do this stupid thing, now do this other thing I'm just making you do because I can.' Not exactly sophisticated things, are they?"

"Oh, well, if you're such an expert, perhaps you should try being the prince for a day, see how you like it."

"No, no, my head's not nearly big enough."

He hears a small scoff that could be a laugh as he continues folding the prince's laundry—he was listening enough to know what Janus was telling him to do. There's a pause as the quill scratches across parchment before there's a telltale rustle of paper and he ducks just in time for it to land harmlessly on the bed in front of him.

"How honorable, attacking a man while his back is turned."

"Of course you think having a ball of paper thrown at you constitutes an attack."

He manages to disguise the tensing of his jaw by reaching for it. His fingers brush the crumpled edge, scoffing when he sees the list of chores. "I did half of these things this morning."

"Well, that's the wonderful thing about chores, Virgil, you have to keep doing them as people live their lives."

"Or, maybe you could try not taking up all the space in the world for once in your life."

"Careful, you're threatening the prince of Camelot."

"Only you would view being told to take up less space as a threat."

This time Janus throws a roll of bread and he doesn't turn around fast enough, stumbling backwards as it hits him in the forehead. He flails, trying to regain his balance, only to hit the curtains and get tangled. He can't see, he can't move, and he ends up falling right on his arse.

Right in front of a laughing Janus.

"Magnificent performance!" He hears clapping as he swallows down his humiliation. "If you were auditioning for the part of a jester, I'd hire you on that alone."

"Very funny," he mutters through gritted teeth, just barely resisting the urge to throw the bread back. Instead, he stuffs it in his pocket and goes about fixing the curtains.

"Oh, come on," Janus coos mockingly when he doesn't let him see his face for a long while, "don't be such a petticoat, Virgil. A little fall now and then's good for any man."

Virgil grits his teeth and says nothing.

This. These insults he'd rather not deal with. He's still shaky from earlier, his senses on high alert, and Janus thinks it's funny to scare him and make him flush and generally feel unsafe. Not something he needs right now, thank you very much. But could he say any of this out loud? No! He'd be opening himself up to even more insults, more mocking, more jeering at his sensitivity because what sort of person—no, what sort of man would he be if he tried to say that he felt uncomfortable? He'd be lucky if Janus didn't call in the others just to laugh at him.

"You don't need to sulk," comes Janus's voice again as he goes back to silently doing the laundry, "I thought we were past this."

He keeps his mouth shut. He puts the laundry back in the closet and turns to start fixing the bed. He hears Janus sigh.

"The silent treatment's a bit childish for you, isn't it?"

"I'm not giving you the silent treatment."

"He speaks!" He sees Janus throw his arms up out of the corner of his eye. "What a miracle this is."

"I can just shut up again."

"Words I never thought I'd hear you say. It's a wonder you're even capable of it."

See, he seethes internally, this is why I wasn't talking. You just take every word I say as an opportunity to insult me.

But it seems like Janus doesn't actually want him to shut up, so of course that's exactly what he does. He doesn't say another word as he finishes doing all the chores on the list, no matter how much Janus needles him, no matter how many things get thrown at him—he doesn't bother dodging them anymore, he just lets himself get hit and swallows whatever pain might come from having a metal cup collide with his shoulder—no matter how many times Janus stares at him waiting for him to say something. Instead, he waits until there's just about nothing else he can do to stop, fold his hands behind his back, and bow slightly.

"Is there anything else, sire," he mumbles in that polite voice he and Janus both hate, "or will that be all for the evening?"

"Alright, you've made your point," Janus grumbles, getting up from his desk, "now stop it."

"Stop what, sire?"

"Stop it," Janus barks. Virgil doesn't look up and he hears a muffled curse before heavy boots are tromping across the room.

It's just Janus. They're in his chambers. In all likelihood, he's just going to get cuffed across the shoulder or the ear and told to knock this off, told to get out so Janus can see him bright and early tomorrow. That's what always happens, that's probably what's going to happen, there's no need for Virgil to flinch.

But part of him is still on the muddy ground, a bandit roaring as an axe lifts high in the air above him. Part of him is still shivering as his magic acts without his permission and forcing him to scramble for cover to choke down the panic at possibly being discovered. Part of him is still cowering on the ground as heavy footsteps race over to him, sword drawn and flashing like a torch in the setting sun.

So, as much as he screams at himself not to, Virgil flinches.

The footsteps stop abruptly.

Slowly, so slowly it almost seems like a dream, he watches a hand raise and settle on the nape of his neck. The prince's gloves are soft and buttery leather, warmed by his touch and by riding in the late afternoon. The touch is so gentle for a moment he's not sure if he's imagining it, but then there's another hand under his chin.

"Virgil," the prince says, and Virgil reels at how soft Janus sounds, "what's going on?"

"What?"

"You're upset," and who the fuck is this and what the hell has he done with Janus, because Janus doesn't talk to him this softly and he certainly doesn't ask Virgil if he's upset, "are you still afraid because of what happened earlier?"

"No!"

Janus tuts, gently chucking him under his chin. "Don't lie to me, sweetie."

"What the fuck is going on?" Virgil jerks back, trying to break Janus's hold but the prince is strong—far stronger than him, and he barely moves. "What are you doing?"

"You're upset, I can tell. I'm trying to help."

"Why?"

Janus chuckles, only to realize Virgil is most certainly not laughing, and he sobers quicker than Virgil could've thought possible. "What do you mean, 'why?' You're my Virgil."

"I'm your what?"

"My Virgil. My disobedient, lazy, cowardly manservant Virgil—" which hurts, but Janus is saying them so tenderly they almost sound like endearments, which is making his head spin— "and you're upset, which means I have to fix it."

Virgil just stares at him, mouth opening and closing wordlessly until the hand on the back of his neck squeezes gently. Then a mortifying wounded noise escapes his lips and he buries his face in his hands.

"Hey, hey," Janus murmurs, stepping even closer, "none of that, now. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't understand."

"You're safe. We're back in Camelot, there are no more bandits here. You're in my chambers, everything's alright." Fingers card gently through his hair. "Are you still embarrassed about falling earlier?"

"…you threw bread at me."

"I know. That wasn't very nice of me, was it?" Virgil shakes his head. "Is that why you're still upset with me?"

"You keep insulting me."

"That's what we do, sweetie—" and Virgil shudders at the pet name— "oh, hush, now, it's alright. Here, come here—"

And before Virgil can say or do anything, he's being swept up into a hug. An actual, certifiable hug from the Prince of fucking Camelot and it's warm and safe and fuck he's going to start crying—

"Hey," Janus says sternly when Virgil starts fidgeting in his hold, "settle down, now."

"Let go—let go—I'm gonna—"

"Shh-shh-shh, don't fight me. You're going to cry, is that it? Shh, hush, it's alright, none of that, I don't care—oh, for the love of—" he's spun around and pinned against the prince's chest with an arm around his chest and his waist, a mouth at his ear, "there, now I can't see, is that what you wanted?"

"J-Janus—" Virgil claws at his arm— "Janus, I didn't do anything, I didn't do it—"

"Shh, shh-shh-shh, take a deep breath for me, Virgil. Yes, just like that…that's it, calm down. I'm not angry. You're alright, you're safe, I'm not going to hurt you. Just let me hold you." Janus coaxes him down to the floor when his knees buckle, leaned back against his chest. "There…that's it, calm down, calm down. It's okay. Everything's okay."

"I don't under—understand," he manages, "I'm—I—you—"

Janus's thumb strokes carefully over his chest, still shushing him gently. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're upset, I should've known better than to tease right after something like that. You're safe, you have my word."

"I—" tears start to bubble at the corners of his eyes— "I—"

"Shh, don't try and speak right now," he says softly, pulling Virgil more into his lap, "just let it out."

And, well, he's not sure he's ever going to have the opportunity to bawl in the prince's hold ever again, so he's going to take advantage of it while he has it. Still, it takes him a moment to wrestle with the sheer amount of blackmail he's giving Janus in this moment before he's properly sobbing, knees drawn up to his chest and all, while soft words are murmured in his ears and a hand strokes comfortingly through his hair.

"That's it, you're alright. Shh, I know, that was frightening. It's over now, you're safe, I won't let anything happen to you."

"Jan—Janus—"

"Shh, shh, shh, I'm right here. I'm right here, Virgil, I'm not going anywhere."

This is the worst part, honestly, the part right after everything's over and Virgil has to get all of the fear out of his body before it can get him into even more trouble. But, when he's done crying, Janus will smile at him fondly and tease him gently about his nose being bright red, and he'll think that maybe, maybe it's not as bad as it could be.

Janus could know about his magic, after all.

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 8 days

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Survival | Coda

Okay, so, I just read Survival, and. yus. (/pos) All I keep thinking about is what if the Others encounter (their) human Virgil having an anxiety attack or feeling very overwhelmed & panicked? Like...how would they handle that? Would they have help from someone who knows a bit more about humans' nervous system? Would they also kinda freak out because they don't know how to help Virgil calm down? – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: panic attack

Pairings: none

Word Count: 1682

"Roman? Remus, report to Engineering Main Hub." "What did you do," Roman mutters as they leave their stations, eyestalks flicking back and forth, "what didn't you do?" "It wasn't me! I didn't do anything wrong!" "You know that just makes you sound more suspicious, right?" Or, Virgil has a panic attack, and Roman and Remus are called in to help.

"Roman? Remus, report to Engineering Main Hub."

"What did you do," Roman mutters as they leave their stations, eyestalks flicking back and forth, "what didn't you do?"

"It wasn't me! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You know that just makes you sound more suspicious, right?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that it wasn't my fault that the quantum field generator was out of alignment this morning because I spent four matrons aligning it last shift and when I left, everyone including Lieutenant Alvarez signed off on it saying it was fine, so if it's messed up again, it's not on me!"

"That's a lot of words for 'I don't know what I did this time.'"

Remus shoves him as his mandible chitters and the two of them manage to make it the rest of the way to the reporting station without breaking anything. It's a close thing, but they manage it. The supervising officer looks up and sighs, gesturing toward the ducts.

"You two are close with Human Virgil, aren't you?"

"We're friendly," Roman says, "but I wouldn't say close."

"That's good enough."

"What's happened with Virgil?"

The officer sighs again—that's probably not good. "I don't know exactly what's going on. Medical Officer Patton is over there, he's got a better grasp of humans than the rest of us on staff here, ask him."

"With all due respect," Remus points out, "we're not exactly experts on humans either, I'm not sure we're qualified to—"

"Well, the human's the one asking for you, so when they're in a state where they can talk coherently again, you can ask them."

Three things occur to both of them at rather alarming speeds.

One: Virgil is asking for them specifically.

Two: Virgil is not currently in a state where they can explain why they've asked for the two of them specifically.

Three: Virgil is so much in a state where they cannot speak coherently that a medical officer has been summoned.

"Where are they?"

The officer jabs a tentacle toward the ducts and they're off, dodging other crew members and murmuring apologies for their brusque journey across the floor, mandibles chittering rapidly. Sure enough, by the time they round the corner to reach the stairs leading up to the overlooking platform, they can hear the soft voice of the medical officer murmuring something.

"That's it, you're doing very well. Keep trying to take deep breaths, okay? That will help stabilize the oxygen levels in your body, which will help bring about the end of this."

"I know that—it's just—I can't—I—I—"

"You can. I know it seems hard right now—"

"No shit!"

"Medical Officer Patton?" Remus calls as they reach the top of the stairs. "We were called, is everything…?"

Roman shoves Remus aside as he too makes it to the platform, trying to see what's caused Remus to stop so suddenly. He then slams to a halt when he sees the bright blue of the medical officer's uniform nearly covering a small, curled-up ball of dark fabric that appears to be shuddering. Before he can ask if this is another stage of human development they're unaware of, part of the blob lifts and he lets out a soothing rumble before he realizes it.

Virgil, their human, is curled up so tightly in a little ball that it must be painful, and his face is all red and blotchy and—leaking?

"Virgil?" Remus's voice drops to the low register they use to communicate with fresh hatchlings, crouching down to make his silhouette smaller. "What's going on?"

"You—you came—you actually—actually—"

"Easy," Patton says gently as another horrible noise leaves Virgil's lips, "don't try and speak too much, you'll over stress your system. Here, let me—"

He reaches into the small toolkit on his belt and retrieves a comfort canister. A light hissing fills the air as it decompresses, the blanket within growing larger and larger until he can drape it over Virgil's shaking shoulders. The human lets out another thorax-wrenching noise as he huddles under the soft blue fabric, taking a fistful and bringing it to cover his mouth.

"What's happening?" Roman asks, crouching down too. "How long has this been going on?"

"I was called a few malton units ago," Patton explains, his eyes still on Virgil curled up under the blanket, "about a crew member in distress. He appears to be otherwise uninjured. I believe this is an exacerbated response from his nervous system."

"Is this related to his parasite?"

Patton's head whips around. "Parasite?"

"Not a literal parasite, uh, Roman, help me out—"

"I think he calls it anxiety? It's not actually a parasite, he just described it like that to us once—"

"Ah, yes, anxiety, I'm familiar with the term in humans. Yes, I think this is part of it. It's not uncommon for humans with anxiety to experience periods of time where their systems is overloaded with instincts that are not applicable to their current situation."

"Their system attacks itself?"

"In a manner of speaking. I believe human experts refer to them as 'panic attacks.'"

Roman blinks with both eyestalks. "Well, that sounds…unpleasant."

"No shit," comes Virgil's voice through the blanket, "it's a bitch and a half."

"Do you normally measure inconveniences in female dog lengths?"

"Figure of speech." The rattling breaths haven't stopped yet, and they can hear a few more drops of liquid hit the grating. "Shit."

"How can we help?"

"Protocol suggests surrounding the crew member with those familiar to them," Patton explains, "who may be able to offer comfort and security."

"O-oh."

The human thinks they're…safe? They've not had more than half a dozen conversations and they're nowhere near approaching brood mate status, they've not even seen each other that many times off shift. But Virgil is extremely distressed and if they can help, well, what are they supposed to do, refuse?

"What do we do?"

"Virgil?" Patton rests a hand carefully on the top of the blanket-human pile. "Roman and Remus would like to help. What would you like them to do?"

"Can—can you come closer?"

Both of them skitter along the platform and bracket the pile on either side. Patton removes his hand and shuffles back to give them space. Roman bumps an eyestalk against Remus as Remus lies flat, making it easier for Virgil to see him without having to move his head so much.

"Hi," he chirps, some of his feelers playing gently with the edge of the blanket. "We're right here. You look like a hatchling all curled up in the blanket."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Do you know a lot about how our species nests?"

"No."

"We make these really big colonies that are just devoted to rearing the young. We gather supplies from everywhere we can to make the environment as safe for them as possible."

"Which in Remus's case, means getting rid of all the dangerous things he hoards like a ravenous purple worm."

"Hey!"

"It's true," Roman says, stroking the blanket, "but once that's all done, we get these big bunches of fluff from the canyon lands and make nests out of them, kind of like this. Then we wrap the young in them so their limbs can get used to having ambient pressure and sensation in a safe way before they're big enough to try moving on their own."

"That's why I said you look kind of like a new hatchling, all bundled up."

Virgil sniffles, wiping at his face. "That sounds nice."

"Why are you leaking," Roman asks gently, "is there something we can patch?"

"'M not leaking, 'm just crying."

"Crying is something humans do to cope with overwhelming emotions in their systems," Patton adds quietly when they still look confused, "it helps with the release of extra things that re-stabilizes them."

"Oh. Keep doing it, then."

A watery huff. "I'm not gonna be able to stop anytime soon, don't worry."

"Do you want us to keep talking?"

"Y-yeah. Um, what are the canyon lands like?"

"They're these massive stretches of bare rock that reach from one side of the planet to the other. They're very treacherous for single or even double exploration teams, so we have to go in really big groups to be able to get around them safely." Remus's eyestalks wave back and forth. "There's not a lot of cover out there so we gotta be able to have eyes in all directions."

"It also gets really hot because of that," Roman adds, "so we take turns being at the top of the group."

"What do you mean, 'at the top?'"

"Oh, sorry—we travel in a horde when we go out in groups that big to make it easier on our legs for long distances. The ones at the bottom provide the power to keep the group going, the ones at the top are the eyes for the rest of us, and the ones in the middle provide stability to make sure no one gets left behind."

"That's…cool."

"But it gets really hot at the top so we change positions every so often to keep the group moving and stable."

"I don't get hot as easily as Roman does—"

"Hey!"

"—so I get to spend more time at the top."

"You just hate having to walk for yourself when you don't absolutely have to."

"I'll have you know I'm still the winner of the Marsh Dash for three galactic cycles in a row and you've never gotten in the top 200."

"Yeah, but that's for your pride."

Remus chitters in an affronted way and Virgil makes another little one of those watery laughs. The engine hums around them, just like the thriving colony of a healthy hive.

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 5 months

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logan comforting virgil after a particularly bad anxiety attack

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 5 months

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Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023) Directed by Joaquim Dos Santos, Justin K. Thompson, Kemp Powers

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 5 months

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The last time I was insecure about buying toys after aging out of them was in high school when I went to toys r us to buy a My Little Pony and the cashier was like “oh cute!” and I was like “hahaha yeah it’s for my little sister” and then I went to pay and pulled out the My Little Pony wallet my dad had given me and I realized it was pointless to lie ever again.

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 5 months

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A young man stands in his living room. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2019, is the day of his friends' wedding.

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 5 months

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“I don’t care about dumb weed jokes,” I said naively, before I saw this

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 5 months

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Unplanned Consequences (Part 4: Virgil) [Sometimes Labels Shift Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Logan

Characters: Virgil, Logan (mentioned)

Summary: Virgil picks up some things from Logan's office.

Notes: This takes place after Best Laid Plans

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Virgil found himself pausing in front of Logan’s office door. He felt the need to knock even though he had the keys in his pocket, and rarely ever knocked before anyway. He couldn’t help but stare at Logan’s name on the door.

That seemed silly. That was the sort of thing you did when someone was dead. It wasn’t like Logan was dead.

As though to check the validity of the thought, Virgil pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. The list was in Logan’s notoriously neat handwriting, written not an hour ago.

Virgil had been tasked with picking some things up from Logan’s office, since Logan wasn’t coming back for the rest of the semester. He was on medical leave after his “car accident.”

The list was suddenly shaking in front of Virgil’s eyes.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, startling Virgil.

Virgil shoved the list back into his pocket and turned.

“Hey Cas,” Virgil said to Logan’s TA. Or, well, ex-TA. Virgil wondered idly if he was out of a job or if another professor would use him for grading. Maybe the professors who were taking over Logan’s classes would have him continue grading for the classes he already was.

Cas seemed to pause. Despite having started the conversation, he did not seem to know where to take it next. He stood a few feet away from Virgil and shifted nervously in place.

“I’m just picking some stuff up for my dad,” Virgil said, aware as he said it that he’d probably never used the title of ‘dad’ in front of Cass.

“Yeah, uh, I heard,” Cas said. “Car accident, right?”

“Yeah, uh, yeah.”

“How is he…?”

“He’s…” Virgil wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Fine’ or ‘alright’ seemed like a lie, but he wasn’t sure how to explain that. “He’s recovering,” Virgil finally decided on. “Plus, he’s in good hands.”

“Right,” Cas said, “your other dad’s a doctor.”

“Yeah.”

The conversation awkwardly died then. Cas shifted a few more times and then cleared his throat.

“Uh,” Cas said, looking at his hands. He was holding a newspaper or something. “I picked up a copy of the Underhall Gazette,” Cas said.

“Cool,” Virgil said for a lack of other things to say.

“I, uh, don’t know why. I’ve already read it since I’m the editor. I usually bring a copy to Professor Sanders to read, so maybe it was just habit…”

He looked up at Virgil.

“Er, I don’t know if he actually cares or if he just reads it because he knows I work on it, but,” Cas offered the paper out, “let him know I’m thinking about him?”

Virgil gave him a half smile. “Of course,” he said, taking the paper.

“Thanks,” Cas said. “Uh, need any help carrying things?”

“Nah, I got it,” Virgil said, “but thanks for the offer.”

Cas seemed to take that as the dismissal it was and nodded. “Okay, see you then,” he said, and turned around to walk back the way he’d come.

With a sigh, Virgil put the paper under his arm and turned back to Logan’s office door. Instead of letting himself think too hard, he pulled out the keys and unlocked the door.

The lights were off, of course, and so Virgil reached over to flip them on. It looked exactly the same as it always did. Logan’s pens and paper were all in order. The filing cabinet was closed and locked. The water bottle Logan used every day was clean and sat in its usual spot when not in use.

Logan’s office was always clean, but it seemed too clean right now even though he knew it was just how Logan always left it at the end of the day. Virgil wasn’t used to being here without Logan’s coat on the rack or his messenger bag near the window. Usually, there was a stack of grading or notebooks out on the table. It looked weird like this.

He took out Logan’s list. For any other person, it would probably take Virgil a bit of work to find everything they wanted, but Logan knew exactly where everything was and had written out the locations in perfect detail.

Virgil went to work. He grabbed Logan’s work laptop as well as his most recent research notes. He also grabbed the ungraded and graded but unreturned papers (though he would take those to the math office instead of home). He shoved the emergency energy bars and soup cans into his backpack since they’d be bad before the office was in use again. Logan had very specific pens and highlighters he wanted as well as a book he’d been reading, so Virgil grabbed those too.

He was done within only a couple of minutes.

He found himself pausing when he was done. He looked around the office. Only a month ago, Virgil had walked in here, stressed about a couple of papers and Logan had sat him down in that chair and told him his office was always open to Virgil. Virgil supposed that was still true. Only Logan wasn’t here.

Irrationally, he felt tears prickle at his eyes. He’d done his best not to cry after Logan was let out of the hospital but suppressing that caught up to him now. He lowered himself into Logan’s desk chair and let himself cry.

He wasn’t sure how long he took to calm down. He’d put his head on Logan’s desk at some point and his face stuck to a piece of scrap paper when he lifted it up. It fell off, fluttering back to the desk.

He managed to choke out a laugh at that.

When he looked back up, his eyes caught on three framed photos on Logan’s desk. He’d seen them before, of course. In fact, he’d felt obliged to complain when he’d seen two pictures of himself looking rather silly. He found his heart warm at the sight of them now.

He contemplated taking the three photographs home, but then discarded the thought. Their being here made Logan’s office feel just a bit less empty. It made Virgil taking things from it feel more temporary. Logan would come back here someday. This was all just temporary. Everything would be okay.

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 5 months

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Language Barriers

same anon as like 5 minutes ago, I remembered the fluffy prompt! Could you write a Sanders Sides DLAMPR fic (before they get together) where all of the Sides have different love languages? And they’re all trying to flirt in their own way, but the others keep misinterpreting it? A lot of TSS fic features the Sides having different love languages (and I’d like to think they do, in canon), but I’ve yet to see a fic that specifically focuses on that fact and describes the differences between love languages. Feel free to ignore, and remember to take care of yourself! – anon

hey I love love love love LOVE your writing! If you’re open to prompts rn, I’ve just reread your story "Idiots, Idiots, Everywhere" and it’s awesome, thanks very much, BUT. Are you willing to write a Sanders Sides fic where it focuses more specifically on all the Sides having different love languages? Bonus points if it’s DLAMPR (but platonic PR, this is an incest-free household) and all the Sides are like “…but he’s like this with everyone”. No pressure at ALL, but it’d be cool to see how you approach that. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 3431

Or, five times the Sides misunderstood each other's love languages, and one time Thomas got fed up with it and decided to just...explain it to them with the efficiency they have when they're trying to explain something to him. Which is to say: it takes them a second to get it. The Imagination helps.

Physical Touch

If you were to ask anyone, they would tell you that Patton loves giving people hugs.

It’s the bane of some of their existences, they’d try to claim, and the others might just shrug and say that’s Patton for you. He knows his kiddos love it, at least a little bit. But he won’t lie, he does love a good hug. There’s just something so magical about how, out of all the shapes humans could have possibly been, they’re just perfectly designed to hold one another. Isn’t that just perfect?

Logan would probably say something about evolution and adaptation to the needs of their environment, or something, but he’s not gonna rain on Patton’s parade. Humans are hug-shaped, so they’re gonna hug. Besides, he’s not complaining when he’s working downstairs in the winter and he’s gotten too absorbed in his work and then a Patton-shaped heating pad just comes along and hugs him.

Patton loves hugging all of the Sides. Logan because he’s always so surprised by it, in a good way! He gets this soft little look that is almost on the edge of a smile, like he wasn’t expecting it but it’s the best possible outcome he never could have predicted. Or when he’s trying to comfort Patton and he hugs with undeniable certainty.

Virgil is also fun to hug, because he’s such a pouty-face about it. He snuggles up as much as any of them but he has to put on his mopey show first, just in case anyone’s watching. Virgil also gives the mopey hugs too, but then he makes himself just a bit bigger so he can wrap all the way around Patton. Which is the best.

Speaking of wrapping all the way around, Janus has six arms and he uses every single one of them. They get into competitions sometimes—not serious! It’s all for fun!—about who can surprise-hug each other the worst. Or best. Janus is currently winning from the time he managed to make himself look like the chair in the living room with a blanket over it; Patton sat down and boo!

Remus isn’t allowed to do surprise hugs, not after he accidentally tackled Patton into his Kraken’s pond and they had to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get out of the pond. But Remus’s hugs are the kind that squish his soul right back into his body and ugh, there’s nothing better than that after a long day. Besides, it’s not like expecting Remus’s hugs takes anything away, he’s still going to squeeze him so hard he might not be able to breathe for a few seconds, but that’s Remus!

And then with Roman—Roman hugs the way every single knight from a fairytale should hug. He just makes you feel safe and precious and like nothing in the world could hurt you. It’s why Patton always sits next to Roman during scary movie nights, after all, even if he gets teased about it a little. Roman doesn’t mind.

So yes, Patton does love hugging all of them. But it doesn’t have to be hugging! It can be holding hands, or just leaning against each other, just as long as he can feel them and tell himself yes, they’re okay, they’re right here, I love them.

Because he does. He loves them terribly. Even if they think he’s just a big fan of hugs.

***

2. Quality Time

Virgil has the reputation of being the cat of the Mindscape for good reason. Not because he hisses at things that don’t cooperate—the other Sides are not excluded from this—and not because he spits up hairballs—it was one time, Remus, and it was entirely your fault—but because he has a habit of just appearing in the same room and hanging out for a while.

…alright, it’s not a habit, he does it on purpose.

Companionable silence really is the best way to go about things. You’re both close enough to talk if you want to, but each of them is allowed to do their own thing and hey, there’s another person doing their own thing too. Which is why it’s his favorite way of hanging out with Logan, especially when he needs to make sure that something gets done. He’s always down to affectionately bully Logan into whatever he asks him to make sure he does.

He does that with Remus too, but it’s not exactly the same: Remus needs someone to make sure he doesn’t actually destroy anything, and he’s more than happy to oblige. Especially since he likes to get a bit of a heads-up before a rampaging beast goes barreling through the kitchen at some ungodly hour of the morning.

If he’s never beating the cat allegations, Janus sure as hell isn’t helping. There’s a big window in the Dark Sides’ half of the Mindscape that is perfect for lying in for, oh, a few hours on end. Remus has many—too many, if you ask Virgil—pictures of the two of them just basking in the sun, dozing like they haven’t got a care in the world.

Virgil’s actual favorite place to sleep is with his head in Patton’s lap. Especially after he’s just finished baking, when he’s all warm from the oven and he smells like sugar and spice…Virgil will sit on the counter or the floor and listen to Patton talk about whatever he wants and then while the oven bakes, he’ll fall asleep right in Patton’s lap. He even gets first dibs on whatever just got made.

Roman makes a game of it. He’s the Prince, every good Prince needs a rogue to work with. They trek all over the Imagination, having adventures, defeating monsters, it’s the perfect mix of Roman’s quests and Virgil’s need to be a creepy little shit in every dark corner he can find. Being with Roman even makes boring council meetings fun, because he gets to terrify the idiots that they’re just gonna fight later anyway and he gets to spend time with Roman.

He doesn’t care what he’s doing, not really, just as long as he can spend time with them. He just…wishes they would understand that sometimes.

***

3. Words of Affirmation

Logan is no stranger to impostor syndrome, but that doesn’t mean he has to allow it to plague those he cares for. Understanding something to be true on an intellectual level and feeling the validation that comes from hearing someone else voice it are two very different things. The other Sides are each remarkable in their own right. They deserve to hear it.

Patton is kind. He does not say that lightly: kind people who choose to be kind because they know how difficult it is are not individuals to be trifled with. Patton makes the conscious choice to try and be better every single day. He is earnest and sincere, sometimes painfully so, but he does not allow himself to be dissuaded by obstacles. How could Logan not want to express his admiration?

And Roman…oh, Roman is a wonder. There is so much that goes into his work that often goes unnoticed, or underappreciated, and it is a crime that Logan too often finds himself on the wrong side of that line. Roman is clever and funny and has a work ethic that, truly, rivals Logan’s own. For every slight he makes, however unintentional, he tries his best to make up for it by telling Roman in no uncertain terms how honored Logan is to be part of his creative process.

Remus is an entirely different story, no pun intended. Remus is unabashedly and unapologetically himself, and as such is a marvel to behold. He cares not for the sanitization or reduction of anything in his work, and so Logan does his best to follow suit. Remus is who he is, and it is beautiful.

He tells Janus he’s beautiful too. And not once is he lying. The first time he did it, Janus laughed in his face, at least until he realized Logan was telling the truth. He then didn’t see Janus for an entire week. It ended when a little snake plushie appeared outside of his door in the middle of the night with a tiny note that just said thank you. He tells Janus he’s beautiful every chance he gets now.

Virgil is his little alley cat. Perfectly fine to approach on his terms, but will let him know with no uncertainties when he’s getting a little too close. It doesn’t help that Virgil is quite fun to tease, even if all he’s doing is giving him compliments—true compliments, mind you—and watching in amusement as Virgil curls up into a ball with his hood pulled down over his ears as if that could hide how red they are. He’s not cruel about it, of course; he stops the moment Virgil appears genuinely uncomfortable and there are certain topics he doesn’t go near. But Virgil can’t always hide his little grin and so on it goes.

He’s quite happy to shower them with his words, he just…doesn’t know if they’d believe him if he said I love you.

***

4. Acts of Service

Words are difficult. There is so much ambiguity to be found in even the most basic of sentences, and when it comes to matters like this, Janus prefers to take as few chances as possible. Whoever coined the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words,’ Janus definitely owes a drink for how spot-on it is.

Whenever Patton needs a hand in the kitchen, he’s always the first to volunteer. He can do up to three things in the time it would take another Side to do just one, after all, and he’s had enough experience cooking for the troublemakers (Virgil and Remus) to know how to get around most of their pranks. And how to get them back.

Logan, bless him, has a tendency to overwork himself at the best of times. And in doing so, he gets these terrible knots and cramps in his neck and shoulders from hunching over his desk for hours on end. It might not be the most polite of things to practically blackmail his way into giving Logan a massage, but the poor dear always falls right to sleep so he mustn’t mind too much.

Remus and his delightful menagerie of creatures often need more than their fair share of attention. He had to pester Remus into getting him a raincoat and muck boots that could withstand the acidic slime, but weekend mornings found them strolling cheerfully through pens and cages and paddocks, tending to the bizarre flock. Anything to make the chore more of a fun activity and less of, well, a chore, when Remus really doesn’t suit stressed-out frowns as well as manic grins.

Virgil has a terrible habit of not asking for reassurance when he needs it. Janus regrets the part he played in making it that way. So, no matter how small and stupid Virgil may think it is, whenever he asks for help, Janus gives it. A tug on his cloak or a soft please will have him do anything from turn the light in the hallway on to checking the poor thing over for wounds after a brutal nightmare. It took long enough for Janus to re-earn that trust, he’s not going to lose it if he can damn well help it.

Out of everyone in the Mindscape, only Roman truly appreciates his love of theater. Sure, the others are game to help out here and there, but when it comes to the art of make-believe, Roman is the proud owner of Janus’s ‘yes-and’ partnership. The two of them make all sorts of stories together, from villains and heroes to morally grey adventurers, to simple fairytales and old plays. Roman needs someone else to help him play the roles and Janus is more than happy to play with him.

Perhaps one day, he might be able to reveal that everything he does for them, he does because it’s them, but for now, he’ll happily play the role they expect of him.

***

5. Gifts

Roman and Remus do not, in fact, fight over who gets to give the most presents to the other Sides.

Instead, they fight over whose idea they work on first.

For Logan, Remus’s self-writing pen narrowly won out over Roman’s proposal for a never-ending notebook, if only because said pen squirted ink into Roman’s mouth before he could finish his argument. They ended up giving both to Logan at the same time, but the pen was decidedly on top and did its own little celebratory wriggle when Logan used it for the first time.

Remus nearly challenged Roman to a formal duel when it came to designing a heat lamp for Janus that wouldn’t run the same risk of burning out the electricity in their section of the Mindscape. They managed to agree on everything up to the design on the lampshade. Roman said it should be a yellow snake, curled up and sleeping, and Remus wanted it to be a big leaf that Janus could lay under like he was actually outside. The compromise was eventually reached over many hours of almost bloodshed and now the sleeping snake under a leaf is a staple in the corner of Janus’s room.

Roman cleverly proposed Virgil’s weighted blanket while Remus was being crushed under said blanket, leaving not a lot of wiggle room until he had to agree. Of course, he promptly fell asleep and cuddled Roman into a pile of goo, so technically they made both the blanket and the plushie at around the same time. Virgil still brings the little skeleton to movie nights.

Patton gets their presents one after the other, because you need one to understand the other’s context. A rebreather designed to slip on over the person’s face just like any other face mask, to filter out particulates and allergens. Something that could be worn for up to two consecutive hours before it needed to be recharged.

The other present was a box full of kittens.

”Ro?”

“Yeah?”

Remus pushes his goggles to the top of his head and looks over the desk. “Do you think they’ll ever get it?”

Roman sighs, closing his notebook and leaning back to stretch. “I don’t know, Re. I love them, really, they just…”

”Don’t realize.”

“Yeah. It’s okay, though. We’ll get there eventually.”

“Of course we will. Hand me that wrench, would you?”

“The one that’s covered in guts, or the one that’s made out of foam?”

“The foam one. I need to whack this thing but I don’t wanna hit it too hard.”

“I’m not gonna ask any more questions.”

***

+1: I Love You

”Hey!” Patton rises up first, clapping his hands. “Oh. I’m the only one here.”

“Only by a moment,” Logan says as he joins him. “Is Thomas here?”

“No, I just got summoned by—well, I thought it was Thomas but he’s not here.”

“Whoa, hey!” Virgil appears on the staircase. “What’s going on? I was in the middle of watching someone.”

“Don’t you mean ‘something?’” Remus appears, covered in slime and cackling. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve got it,” Roman says, rising up and spraying his brother with something that somehow manages to dissolve all the goo without staining or spraying anything else. “There. Now maybe you’ll think twice about surprising Uma when she’s feeding?”

“Oh, I’m gonna do this so many more times!”

”I felt the exasperation from my room,” Janus sighs, appearing, “what’s Remus done now?”

“Why did you assume it was Remus?” Janus just looks at Logan. “Fair enough.”

”Now that we’re all here, what is this about?” He looks around, frowning. “Where’s Thomas?”

“That’s weird, is he not the one who called for a meeting?”

“What’s that?” Virgil reaches out and picks up a piece of paper from the coffee table. “‘Each one of you needs a card, find the matches.’ What cards?”

“Here.” Logan picks up something that fell when Virgil picked up the paper. “There are only five of them, though, and six of us.”

“What do they say?”

“Let me see…one says ‘Physical Touch,’ one says ‘Acts of Service,’ one says…oh, I see.”

“I don’t,” Patton says, “can you share with the class?”

“Wait, wait, I think I know what this is, is one of them ‘Quality Company’ or something?”

“‘Quality Time,’ yes.”

Roman nods. “It’s the Five Love Languages.”

“Thomas doesn’t even speak Spanish!”

“No, no, Padre, not literal languages, it’s…it’s the ways you express your affection for someone. How you tell them you love them. There’s five: physical touch, acts of service, quality time…”

“‘Words of Affirmation,’” Logan continues, reading off the other cards, “and ‘Gifts.’”

Virgil hunches his shoulders. “So what, are we supposed to pick one?”

“I believe the intention of the exercise is to…select which one is our love language.”

Janus huffs. “Why? What does Thomas have to gain from doing something like this? And where is he?”

“Maybe he’s not the one who summoned us.”

“Well then who did?”

“Maybe if we do the thing we can find out.”

Janus sighs, peering over Logan’s shoulder and squinting. “I guess this one’s mine, then.”

“‘Acts of Service?’ Very well. I suppose I’ll take ‘Words of Affirmation.’”

“Can I have the touch one?”

“Certainly.”

“Twins get ‘Gifts,’ obviously,” Virgil mutters, “which means I get the…time one, or whatever.”

Logan hands out the last two cards and they stand there for a moment, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing does.

Patton looks back down at his card. “Wait, did you say these are how we tell people we love them?”

“That is a simple definition of this, why?”

“Because you guys do these with everyone!”

There’s a pause. Logan adjusts his glasses. “Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but…yes, I do indeed give you all words of affirmation, because, well…”

“Aww,” Virgil says, “do you love us, Logan?”

Logan coughs, blushes, and adjusts his tie. “I believe that is a logical conclusion, yes.”

“Aww!” Patton squeals. “I love you guys too!”

”So whoever set this up knew that we were all trying to tell each other that—“ Roman starts.

“—and needed to hammer it into our heads what was happening,” Remus finishes.

“Well,” Janus sniffs, even as a smile threatens the corners of his mouth, “how dramatic.”

Virgil tugs on the strings of his hoodie. “Yeah. How dramatic.”

There’s another pause.

Roman coughs. “Uh, this seems like a good a time as any, um…Remus and I put together a festival thing in the Imagination for everyone, if you want to…if you want to come and see it.”

“It has everyone’s favorite state fair stuff,” Remus sands, “and there’s supposed to be a northern-lights kind of thing after it gets dark.”

“Can we cuddle?”

“Of course.”

“Will there be food?”

“Your favorite, shadow-ling.”

“You two are so thoughtful,” Logan says softly, “I would love to come.”

“I can get the good blankets from the closet,” Janus offers, and everyone grins, “should we meet there in ten?”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

The Imagination is just happy they finally sorted it out. Now, to give the six of them a group date they’ll never forget…

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

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 5 months

Text

Unplanned Consequences (Part 5: Patton) [Sometimes Labels Shift Series-The End]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton/Logan

Characters: Patton, Logan, Virgil (mentioned), Roman (mentioned)

Summary: Sometimes... things change.

Notes: This takes place after Best Laid Plans

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“Hey Lo,” Patton said as he walked into the living room. Virgil had officially moved into an apartment with Roman a few days ago as the spring semester was starting tomorrow. This left Patton and Logan living alone together in the house for the first time since… The Incident.

Patton had just finished cleaning up dinner after getting Logan settled on the couch. The TV was on, but Logan was currently staring past it into space, something he never used to do, but had become a frequent occurrence since getting injured. It worried Patton a bit, but he tried not to think about it.

Logan looked up at him as Patton said his name. He didn’t smile softly at Patton like he usually would have. It made something clog in Patton’s throat.

“Hello,” Logan said.

“I… made us both some tea,” Patton said, holding out the tea mugs as though for his approval.

“Thank you, love.” He still seemed distracted and distant. He turned back towards the television.

Patton nodded and then walked over to set the mugs on the coffee table. Then, he sat down on the couch next to Logan. Years of instinct told him to scootch over closer until their arms and legs intermingled, but he hesitated.

Logan either noticed his hesitation, or noticed his deviation from the norm, because he glanced over at Patton. He lifted the arm closest to Patton and Patton instantly took the invitation, moving closer to curl up under his arm.

Logan pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

It was silent between them for a long moment, only the sound of the television droning on breaking the quiet. The news was on, Patton noted. There was coverage on a supervillain attack Prince had stopped the night before.

“I think I need to retire,” Logan said out of the blue.

Patton drew back to look at him in surprise. “What?” he asked. “You’ve been given medical leave until next fall. You’ll be more than recovered enough to go back to teaching by then.”

Logan looked at him for a moment and then gave him a wry smile. “I wasn’t talking about teaching, my dear.”

“Oh,” Patton said blinking at him. “Oh.” He took a moment to process that statement. “But you… you want to retire?”

“I wouldn’t say want,” Logan said, “but I think it may be the most responsible course of action.”

“You… I know you’re struggling with the leg and everything right now, but you’ll get better.”

“Patton,” Logan said, “you’re a doctor.”

“Exactly!” Patton said, feeling oddly defensive for a reason he couldn’t place. “So, I know exactly how people heal from injuries like yours. You’ll need time, but with physical therapy and…”

Logan cut him off. “With physical therapy,” he said, “I will get much better. I will perhaps walk again, maybe even without a mobility aid eventually, but Patton, I’m 57-years-old. This severe of an injury is not going to heal quickly or completely.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m getting old,” Logan said. “I’ve been slowing down, and this will not help me speed up. Being Bluebird is physically… and mentally demanding. I won’t be able fully meet those demands again after what happened.”

“That’s not true,” Patton said even though he wasn’t sure of that himself.

“It is,” said Logan. “It’s always something that would happen eventually. This has just… sped up the process.”

“You’re catastrophizing,” Patton said. It was probably an ironic statement to make when Patton’s words sounded so much more upset than his husband’s. “You’re making a rash decision because you feel bad now, but…”

“This isn’t rash,” Logan said, evenly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot in the last months.”

Patton didn’t know what to say to that.

“Besides,” he said, nodding at the TV. The news had cycled around again while they talked, back to Prince, back to Roman. “I’m not the city’s only long-term hero anymore. Roman had been doing well before and is doing even better now. I will continue to help him on his journey, and it won’t be an immediate transition. Bluebird will still make a few appearances, but I do think it’s time. For my own sake and ultimately for this city’s too.”

Patton hesitated. Logan was right, of course, that this was inevitable. It’s just that Patton had never really thought about it. He didn’t want to think about it, especially now when Logan was still so hurt in multiple ways. He’d been telling himself that eventually things would go back to normal, but Logan had just confirmed Patton’s greatest fear: they wouldn’t.

It felt selfish to be upset, but Patton really couldn’t help it. Patton felt himself gripping onto Logan’s sleeve for support even though support was Patton’s job right now. He felt tears in his eyes, but he resisted letting them fall.

“Are you okay?” Logan asked.

“I…” Patton said. A couple of the tears escaped. “It’s just… I’ve never known a Logan that wasn’t also Bluebird.”

Logan sighed softly. He gently removed Patton’s grasping hand from his shirt sleeve to hold it in his own. “Things change,” he said, doing that thing where he stared into the distance again, “labels shift.”

A/N:

And that my friends, is the end of Sometimes Labels Shift.

It's been a long time coming and I'm feeling a bit emotional even though it's not the end of the Labeled Universe. We're just moving on to the next chapter.

All of our favorite Labeled characters will return in the new sub-series named Envisage. I hope to see you there.

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 6 months

Text

Land

Random wingfic idea- Virgil refusing to preen himself and the other sides chasing him around the mindscape trying to catch him, hold him down, and do it for him lol (it’s for his own good!) – cherry-sofa-729

Read on Ao3

Warnings: non-consensual grooming

Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2577

”Virgil,” comes Janus’s slightly—alright, way more than slightly—reproachful voice from just outside the door.

Virgil curls up tighter on the bed, his wings creaking in protest as he tries to pull them closer. He bites his lip and says nothing. Janus sighs.

“We can either have this conversation through the door, and the others will potentially hear it and wonder why I have to talk to you through your door, or you can let me in and keep a modicum of privacy from them.”

See, this is the part about talking with Janus that he really hates when it comes up. Because he’s capable of being reasonable, so reasonable that there isn’t a good argument, and it just makes Virgil madder.

Still, he’d rather deal with one really annoyingly-caring Side than five right now, so he pulls a blanket halfway over his lap and lets Janus in.

“Thank you,” he hears as the door clicks shut behind him.

The silence that follows is filled with silent judgment that makes Virgil’s skin crawl. So he digs his hands into the blanket and ignores the twinges of pain in his wings as Janus sits on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not going to touch you without your permission, sweetie,” he says quietly, because he’s actually a decent person and he won’t, Virgil knows he won’t, “but I’m not leaving either.”

“Why not?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“But why? It’s not like…”

“Like you haven’t done this before?” Janus fills in when he doesn’t finish. “I know, sweetie, I remember. I was there when you realized that wouldn’t work anymore. Which is why I’m not leaving.”

See? Stupid and reasonable. Virgil glares at the seam on his sleeve that’s starting to go as if he could telekinetically sew it back up. Janus doesn’t say anything for a moment until his wings shudder again.

“You’re giving yourself muscle fatigue on top of everything else,” comes the quiet voice that makes Virgil’s blood boil, “that’s only going to make things harder.”

“Shut up.”

“Why are you being unkind to me, sweetie?”

Because you’re being unkind to me. Because you’re here and I don’t want you to be here right now. Because you’re making me uncomfortable. Because I don’t know what else to do. Because I’m scared. Because—because—because—

He doesn’t say anything. After another moment, Janus sighs. The bed dips as he shifts his weight.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to tell you anyway?”

“…yeah.”

“I think you’re afraid of being vulnerable in front of us because you’re still anxious about whether or not we’ll hurt you, even though part of you knows that won’t happen.”

Virgil was right. He didn’t want to hear what Janus thought. Mainly because he knew he was going to be right.

“And,” he continues, because of fucking course he does, “I think we both know that being angry is easier than being scared.”

“Shut up,” he growls, only making Janus’s point for him, wrenching his wings as close to himself as they’ll go.

“Don’t do that,” comes Janus’s voice, firmer now, “you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do. Relax your wings, Virgil, you’re going to hurt them.”

“So?”

“So, they’re a part of you. A part that deserves just as much taking care of as the rest of you.”

Virgil bares his teeth in a snarl, hides behind his hoodie-clad arms. The pain in his shoulder blades agrees with Janus, though, and slowly he feels his wings relax just a bit. As they do, the build-up and debris in the crooked feathers shifts just enough to jolt a noise of pain from his lips before he can stop it.

“You’re hurt,” Janus stresses, “please, sweetie, let me help.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Janus’s shadow reaching for him and he flinches away, knocking one of his wings into the wall. He whimpers again.

“Okay, okay, I won’t touch you, I promise, okay?” The bed shifts back. “But you—Virgil, you know.”

He does know. He remembers the nights of gritting his teeth and hissing in pain as he tried in vain to get his wings right by himself, the days of having to walk hunched over because his back wouldn’t allow for anything but, the sports bras that were covered in oil and grime and sweat by the end of the day and having to wash them by hand in his bathroom as his shoulders screamed in pain. He remembers all of it.

But he also remembers the itching feeling under his skin when the others would take care of him. The weird bubbling feeling in his stomach that just wouldn’t go away, making him sick and fretful even when they were handling him as gently as they could. The sinking pit that would open up in his chest when he had his wings outstretched, so far away from him, and in someone else’s hands.

The memory of that alone is enough to make his wings jerk closer to himself again.

“Talk to me,” he hears Janus murmur, “please, sweetie, what’s wrong? Everything was alright for a while, wasn’t it?”

“…yeah.”

“Did we mess up? Did one of us hurt you by accident?”

“No.”

There’s a pause. Virgil squeezes his eyes shut, because technically that wasn’t a lie, but he’s talking to Janus and he knows better than to assume that’s going to be enough.

“Virgil,” and yep, it wasn’t true enough to escape his notice, “tell me what happened, please.”

“It’s fine, J.”

“It’s made you avoid getting your wings taken care of, it has made you feel unsafe and scared, and it has made you lie to me. It is not fine, now tell me what happened.”

Virgil shuffles. His wings twitch at the memory of it.

“I…I wasn’t doing a good job of remembering to get my wings groomed,” he starts, “and I guess it got sort of obvious.”

“Go on.”

”I was just sitting on the couch and then—and then Remus was lunging at me with this huge butterfly net thing?”

“That sounds like something Remus would do.”

“And I told him to fuck off, obviously—“

“Obviously.”

“—but he didn’t stop, he just kept trying to catch me and so I ran away because I didn’t want to be caught and then Roman—“

“Roman?”

“Yeah, he—he didn’t have a net or anything but he was trying to catch me too and I just kept running because I didn’t know what was going on and they both kept laughing that they were going to catch me and kept chasing me and I—“

‘Shh,” Janus interrupts, voice soft and low, “take a breath first.”

Virgil manages a shaky breath, his hands and wings trembling. “And then I saw Patton and I thought he was going to h-help me and make them stop chasing me because I didn’t want to be fucking chased, I just wanted them to leave me alone, I didn’t even know why they were chasing me—“

“And what did Patton do?”

A lump swells up in Virgil’s throat. “:H-he caught me.”

Janus is silent for a moment. Virgil’s breathing starts to get shakier again.

“He caught me and then Roman and Remus laughed and they—they—“ he swallows— “they—“

Janus inhales sharply. “Did they groom your wings without your permission?”

Virgil nods miserably, a sob choking up from his throat. He hears a quiet mumbling from Janus before he’s reaching out despite himself and there’s a soft oh, sweetie and he’s scooped into his lap.

“Shh, shh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Janus murmurs, lowest pair of arms slung around his waist, “you’re alright, you’re safe now, no one will touch you without permission, it’s okay.”

The murmurs in his ears are doing wonders to coax every last tear from his eyes and he just wraps his arms as tightly as he can around Janus’s neck without choking him. Janus holds him just as tightly, pressing kisses to his temple between quiet reassurances.

“I know I need to get them groomed,” Virgil mumbles after a while, “but I…”

“Shh…you don’t need to say anything else, sweetie, not to me. I understand. That was…that was an awful thing they did, and I promise you I’ll have a word with them about it.”

”They didn’t know—“

“Remus did,” Janus interrupts firmly, “Remus knew better and he should have done better.”

“…yeah.”

”Oh, sweetie, I’m not angry at you.”

“You’re not?”

“No, not at all. I’m upset for you, but not at you.” A hand scratches lightly at the base of his spine. “Do you think you’re comfortable enough to have your wings groomed now, or do you want to wait?”

Virgil shifts. “We can...we can do it now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He bumps his head against Janus’s chin. “As long as it’s you.”

Of course, just as he says that, there’s a knock at the door. He tenses, Janus’s hand soothing it away, before Logan’s voice comes from the other side.

“Virgil? It’s Logan. I have a question for you.”

Janus glances down. Virgil chews on his lip for a moment before he raises his hand and opens the door for Logan.

“Thank you, I—oh.” Logan stops, seeing Virgil with his wings huddled around him on Janus’s lap. “My apologies, is this a bad time?”

”It’s not ideal,” Janus says diplomatically, “what did you need?”

“I—well, I’ve been…doing some research,” Logan admits somewhat sheepishly, holding out the basket in his hands, “on how to care for wings properly. I’ve attempted to synthesize a solution that can help prevent build-up on the oil glands.”

Virgil holds out his hand. Logan brings the basket over to him, not touching his wings. He pops the lid of one of the bottles and sniffs. It smells…good. He looks up at Janus, who shrugs.

“It’s up to you, sweetie.”

“Will you help?”

“Now? Certainly,” Logan says, setting the basket on the bed and resting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “what can I do?”

The base of his spine prickles as Janus starts gently directly Logan through cleaning the gunk from his feathers, carefully removing the broken ones and straightening the crooked ones, but when nothing suddenly touches his sensitive places or moves too quickly or too harshly, he starts to relax into the soothing touches. Logan’s low voice murmurs a warning before his thumbs reach up and slide over the oil glands, drawing a soft whine before it turns into a sleepy mumble.

”You’re doing so well, dear heart, we’re right here. You’re safe, nothing is going to happen to you right now.”

“I know.”

Janus presses a kiss to his cheek as another set of hands takes his. “I’m going to lift your arms up now, alright? That way Logan can get the rest.”

Virgil just mumbles his assent, wincing as it tugs on his muscles. Logan’s hands are firm and gentle as they begin to work through the marginal covets, the wooden hairbrush slipping easily through the feathers.

“Did you try the…the solution yet?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, I did that a moment ago. Did it help remove the build-up without as much pain?”

“Yeah. Didn’t even realize you did it.”

Logan chuckles. “I suppose I’ll take that as a good thing.”

“Mhm. Definitely.”

Janus squeezes his hands, slowly lowering them so his arms are around his neck again. “You did so well, sweetie, I’m so proud of you. Are you feeling better?”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

“Always, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, kissing his cheek. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do believe I have something to attend to.”

Virgil mumbles a protest but lets Janus get off the bed. Logan makes to leave as well but he catches his wrist.

“Can you stay? Please?”

“Of course, Virgil. Would you like to cuddle?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me lie down, then, and—“ Logan lets out a noise of surprise that morphs into a laugh when Virgil flops on top of him the second he’s able— “oh, alright, you little spider. May I continue to groom you as we lie here?”

“Just don’t touch the glands and yeah.”

“As you wish.”

***

Janus reaches through the Mindscape to summon all three of them and none-too-gently brings them to the Dark Side’s living room.

“Ow, what the hell? You grabbed me by my hair!”

“Yeah, kiddo, you should try and be more gentle!”

“Jeez, Janny, if you wanted to play rough, you only had to say so.”

All three of them see his expression and shut up.

“I’ve just found out something very interesting,” he says lowly, “about our dear Virgil. Would you like to know what that was?”

Patton nods slowly, followed by the others.

“He hasn’t felt safe enough to get his wings groomed properly, now isn’t that interesting?” He tilts his head. “I wonder what could have been the cause of that. Can any of you think of why that might be?”

Roman gulps. Remus goes pale. Patton fidgets with his hands. “I-is it because we…?”

He winces when Janus’s gaze swivels to meet his. “Is it because you what, Patton,” he says in an icily-pleasant tone, “what did you do?”

“We, um, we noticed that his wings were getting bad and so we, um…” Patton wilts under Janus’s glare. “…we tried to do it for him?”

“You tried to do it for him, is that it? Well, what on earth would that have to do with Virgil feeling unsafe?”

“We didn’t get his permission,” Remus whispers, all play gone from his voice, “we…we forced him into it, and we…shit. Fuck. We fucked up bad.”

Patton doesn’t even call him out on his language.

“I expected better from you,” Janus hisses, the anger starting to slip into his voice, “you know how much it takes to get Virgil to trust someone with his grooming. What the hell were you thinking?”

”I wasn’t. I wasn’t, I just—oh, no…”

“Is he okay?” Roman breaks in, already shrunken out of his normal Princely demeanor. “Is—is he okay now?”

Janus softens the slightest bit. “Yes. He is now.”

“Can we apologize to him?”

“On his terms.”

Roman seems to accept that, nodding and bowing his head. Remus is still muttering to himself, his hands clasped over his mouth. Patton looks like he’s on the verge of tears. Janus takes one last look at all of them before he sinks out again.

Later, much later that evening, they will have another movie night. Remus will stumble and stutter over an apology in the way that only he can and Virgil will grin because there’s the Remus he remembers and give him a big hug, wings and all. Roman will swear never to do something like that again and Virgil will swat him over the head with a pillow, grinning the whole time. Patton will offer an apology of his own and Virgil will accept it with a nod.

But for right now, he’s dozing on Logan’s chest as Janus cleans up the last of his wings, and everything’s going to be just fine.

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Kill me once, shame on you. Kill me twice, how did you did that.

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bored-dumbass-with-an-m · 6 months

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Tales From Logan’s Office (Part 4) [Sometimes Labels Shift Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Virgil

Characters: Logan, Virgil

Summary: Virgil invades Logan’s office. (Multiple times.)

This is a dealing with events set after my story Sometimes Labels Fail.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Virgil hesitated outside of Logan’s office door in a way he hadn’t done since the first summer he spent with him and Patton. He knew Logan was in there and probably just busy grading unless he’d already finished all of it. Logan was predictable like that.

Logan was… Logan was very predictable. So predictable that Virgil knew exactly what would happen if he knocked on that door and said what he’d come here to say.

And yet he hesitated.

It was like there were two Virgil’s in his head, at odds with one another. One Virgil knew everything was alright and was going to be alright and that Logan would help it feel alright much quicker. The other Virgil wanted to drop out of college, find a small space somewhere, and curl up into a ball while waiting to die. These two Virgil’s existed completely separate from one another, unable to affect each other or inspire Virgil to action, and left him rooted to the spot outside his dad’s office.

He was finally unfrozen when the door to Logan’s office swung open revealing Logan’s TA, Cas. “Oh, hi Virgil,” Cas said as though there wasn’t anything unusual about this, though for him there probably wasn’t.

Virgil swallowed down the go-cry-in-a-corner Virgil for a moment and said “Hey.”

Cas smiled and held the door open for him.

Well, Virgil supposed he didn’t have a choice now. (It was probably for the best.)

He walked through the door into Logan’s office, doing his best to not let Cas see his anxiety. The door closed behind him.

Logan glanced up at him briefly and seemed unconcerned when he saw it was him. “Hello, Virgil,” he said, turning back to his computer. “This isn’t the usual time you invade my office. Do you need something?”

Even if Virgil could think of words to say right now, they would probably have died in his throat. There were 3 seconds of silence, 4. After a 5 second pause, Logan looked back up at him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Virgil tugged at the sleeves of his hoodie and nodded. He had Logan’s full attention now and that was a relief for the rational part of him that had brought him here even while it made the anxious side of him squirm.

Logan stood up from his chair and rounded his desk. “Sit,” he told Virgil. Virgil sat.

He could feel Logan studying him but couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes.

“Physical?” Logan asked. It was always the first thing Logan checked even though physical injury rarely put Virgil in this state. Virgil shook his head. “Social?” Virgil shook his head again. “Academic?” Virgil hesitated but then nodded.

“I see,” Logan said. “It is Thursday afternoon. Is anything past due, due tonight, or due tomorrow.”

Virgil shook his head.

“Okay. Then I will take you home tonight for the weekend.”

“I have class tomorrow,” Virgil managed to say, wringing his hands.

“You have class with Dr. Simmons,” Logan said. “She has mental health days in her syllabus for a reason. This is the reason.”

“I can go,” Virgil said quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

“You certainly could,” Logan agreed. “You do not need to.”

Virgil felt a bit of the vice grip that had been squeezing his chest loosen. “I need to…” he tried tentatively.

“You need to pack an overnight bag while I teach my last class of the day,” Logan said, “and then sit on your bed watching whatever silly Youtube things you do while waiting for me to pick you up. We will discuss what needs to be done with your schoolwork tomorrow afternoon after you have had time to rest. You will have the entire weekend to complete whatever task is worrying you.”

“I shouldn’t skip class.”

Logan waved him off. “Do you know how many classes I skipped for worse reasons as a student?” he asked. “And now I’m a professor dealing with students skipping my courses for even worse reasons than that.”

“…Okay.”

“Good,” Logan said. “Now would you like a hug?” Despite everything, he couldn’t help but smile slightly at the business-like tone Logan took to ask. Maybe at one point he would have felt uncomfortable about it, but now he knew it was just Logan making sure he was comfortable with it before touching him.

Virgil nodded.

“Thank you,” Virgil said once Logan had reached forward to hug him.

“Anytime,” Logan said back. “My office is always open for you.”

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