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HAAAAAAAAAAA WHY AM I CACKLINGGGGGG

So someone gave me a doodle idea for Remus working on an art project and I got a silly idea

Sometimes in the middle of the night, my brain likes to think of a super creepy face at the end of my bed and freak me out, so maybe he likes to paint stuff like that in his spare time

But yknow how artists will sometimes mimick the expression of what they’re drawing?

Warning for faces that might be disturbing, meant to look like an analog horror type face

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The trick I used was to shrug at my reflection whenever I started to hate it and eventually I stopped caring almost completely. There's still work to do but I'm functional and I consider that a win.

The whole self love thing is good and all but some people can’t fathom being loved. They can’t imagine there being anything good about them. So they can’t simply just stop doing unhealthy things, there’s a process.

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Headcanon: the left side of Janus' spine is unusually flexible, like a snake's. It needs stretching but the human parts don't bend the same way, which limits the exercise he can give it. As a result, chronic pain ❤ and also an uneven gait because it's kinda funny.

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Be proud of the hand. It's a good hand.

give Virgil chewelry 2024

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We've got 'em, boys. Now, pounce.

Characters who are yellow coded not as in joy and optimism but, rather, yellow as in the first color the human eye will notice, plastered over hazard signs and school buses. Yellow as in a light so bright it burns. Yellow as in illness and disease, just waiting to infect. Yellow as deception, a cover up for something with teeth and claws and malice. Can anyone hear me

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The Sides as Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters, written for my own satisfaction:

Roman as Buffy. Peppy, headstrong chosen one with a penchant for quips? Absolutely.

Virgil as Angel. Vampire with a soul and, subsequently, depression. Probably burdened with glorious purpose or something.

Logan as Giles, no shit. The actual librarian. The Slayer's mentor and the teacher and the one with the books and all of that shite. We love.

Patton as Willow. The Slayer's best friend, the one with the sweet disposition and the one who snaps and turns a man inside out and then sets him on fire when they kill her girlfriend.

Janus as Spike. Their aesthetics don't match but they're both spiteful little fuckers and Spike and Angel hate one another almost as much as Janus and Virgil do. Shit's funny.

Remus as Drusilla because they're both fuckin batshit I guess lol there is no other similarity between them

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Yo this is gay fam

Just a little something I finished drawing today 😄

Please don't repost without permission because yes, this is my art...

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Roman's Spirits - High School AU

And here's a little one shot to get this idea out of my head. I just wanna give Roman an inconvenient autistic symptom because I find it cathartically authentic.

If this somehow becomes a series I'm gonna be so pissed and so excited simultaneously. It's such a cute AU idea but my brain is so heavily discordant that finding the resolve to structure something of it is impossible.

What Roman was most excited for was about to come to fruition. He stood lined up outside his art class, embroidered backpack hanging by the top loop on his fingers, bouncing off his knees and landing again repeatedly as he fidgeted. When the teacher emerged from her office and unlocked the door, he smiled.

"You like the oil?" Remus half-mocked. Roman rolled his eyes.

"Yes. I like how they blend."

"And you wanna feel like a renaissance artist."

"Yes, that too. Stop."

Remus sneered as they walked in and threw his bag beneath the desk. Roman placed his down cordially and glided across the floor to the demonstration desk to tuck himself in with the rest.

Having never used oils, Roman didn't know that spirits were needed for cleaning the brush between colour changes. Given the chemistry involved, perhaps he should've guessed. The teacher set up the pallette and he watched with fervor until she started to explain how oil won't clean off without a proper agent. His face started to drop.

Alcohol didn't smell great in general. This was concentrated spirit without anything scented to stifle the fermented tang.

At first, Roman thought he might be okay. He rationalised, arms crossed and getting antsy, that perhaps he could avoid close quarters.

The jar came out and was opened, and for a second he was alright. However, in his wisdom, his hopes didn't rise. As seconds continue to tick past, the scent started circling the room, reaching Roman at the ten second mark. It was a mild sensation, but it was enough. Roman's lip curled.

Remus watched from the other side with unbridled concentration on every change in Roman's expression.

As the demonstration went on, Roman's senses started to blur. Colours started to blend together and his spacial awareness lowered in sharpness. By the end, he was swaying gently, arms crossed over his stomach as it bubbled to try quelling the discomfort.

The art it produced was so splendid, he couldn't excuse himself just yet. Have you ever wanted something so badly that you're willing to suffer for it?

When given their own jars - shared between two - and sent to their desks, Roman was a little slower than the rest of the class. He'd barely sat himself down by the time everyone else was starting their sketches.

It was in the air, constant and distracting. Roman didn't start right away. His breathing laboured.

"I know you wanna do this, but you gotta leave," Remus whispered beneath the chatter of classmates and clinking of metal against glass. The ambience drowned them out unless you were literally between the two.

Roman shook his head. Whether it was a denial of help or a way to clear up his senses enough to respond was unclear.

A few more minutes passed of Remus starting his own project tentatively. His progress was slow due to distraction, which he thought might end up being a waste of time, until Roman actually gagged. It was skillfully subdued, hidden behind a hand. They stood up swiftly and in sync and rushed out.

"I'll be back," Remus insisted to their teacher, not sticking around for permission or a reaction.

Once out of the classroom, Roman dragged his hand down his dampened face and strapped on the mask. A steel eye and a stiff upper lip worked well enough to disguise how he pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It started to fall apart when they saw the bathroom door and Roman started skipping ahead. Remus ran to keep up.

Thank God his hair was braided already. All he had to do as he collapsed into the nearest stall was claw his chin-length bangs backward.

Regardless, it was ugly, but Remus didn't flinch. He waited patiently for about two minutes as Roman flitted between being 'finished' and then retching again. During the second minute, he took a moment outside to call their dad and ask for a ride home. He also picked up a bottle of water and a can of ginger ale from the nearby vending machine.

Roman was out when he returned.

"Dad's on his way."

Roman let his brother drag him by the upper arm to the front desk, where he sat with his drinks until he returned with their bags.

"Thanks for the half-day," he remarked when he threw himself into the plastic stool beside Roman's arm chair and let his knees fall apart nonchalantly. Roman responded with a long draw of ginger ale, finishing the can just before their father arrived.

"Details," Janus demanded, directed at Remus despite being in the backseat, stone-faced and efficient as he ever was.

"Oil paints and spirits," Remus shrugged.

"Oh, sweetheart," Janus lamented quietly with a reach over to define the curl covering Roman's face. It put a little smile on his face for a second.

Patton was on the doorstep waiting to recieve them when they pulled into the drive. Janus got out, gave him a little kiss on the jaw as he arrived at the car and passed Roman off to him. They entered the house a pitiful sight.

Remus stood with his arms crossed until Janus offered him a note to repay him for the drinks.

"Thanks, dad."

"Inside. Come on."

Roman shut everyone out. Soon as Patton let him go, he escaped up the stairs, tears in his eyes, and locked his door with latch and key. For half an hour, he straightened out his entire room to the very last detail, ending up with a reorganised bookshelf and self-care stocked bedside table. Once finished, he snuck out to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

In order, Roman brushed his teeth, took a cold shower, redid his hair and drew himself a glass of water. He waited for silence in the hallway before braving it. When he arrived, he changed into his red pyjamas. They looked lovely against the creamy checkered bedsheets he'd picked out.

Finally, he could breathe. Sat up with pillows between his back and the headboard, Roman picked up one of his hardback screenplays of Shakespeare and started reading, eyes dull at first.

A knock at the door dragged his attention away just as his mood began to lift. He finished the sip of water he'd been savouring to answer.

"Yes?"

"It's Logan. What happened?"

Cordial as always.

"It's over with. I am fine." His tone struck blunt and hard. Logan shrugged and made his way back downstairs.

"He says he's fine and I have no reason to doubt he won't be if we leave him to soothe himself."

"Good," Janus nodded once, handing him a cup of tea as a reward. "Keep an eye?"

"I will."

Patton reached out and grazed Logan's cheek. "Don't concern yourself too much."

"I won't."

"Has he ever said anything more to us before?"

"Not in all 22 years."

"I didn't think so."

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I am on a music BENDER right now bro like it's 2am and I have college AND a dentist appointment in the next 24hrs and here I am with my American Idiot and my New Perspective and my fuckin Dan Bull Minecraft mob raps bro what the fuck is even wrong with my brain

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Remember when Bryce Tankthrust and Bobby Worst? Dukeceit. Bangerang motherfucker.

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New Year - Sanders Sides

It's like 2am and it's appropriate. Prinxiety nation, human roommate au. You know the drill.

Having a community of young people who look to you and your work for comfort and feeling unable to provide when you didn't expect the pressure in the first place sounds heavy to shoulder alone. It makes sense that the last few years have been unstructured with the context. Because I know there's a chance Sanders himself is seeing this: you did something great.

Happy New Year, fuckbags

It's a tame environment. There are only six of them and everyone would rather be in bed, but the year has been so taxing that it feels right to sign it off with a huge middle finger and then go to bed. All there is to do is wait.

Barely a minute left until New York lights up on the TV and Logan has finished his second glass of wine in the last five. Patton is hunched with his obnoxiously long fingers against his temple, resisting the temptation of accepting yet another offer for a glass and opting to nurse the sleep-deprived headache in stead. Roman has put himself on the couch, fiddling with a pen and its lid from the coffee table. Virgil is on the arm of the couch, crouched like an obnoxious prick in an attempt to express his edge, which only really serves to make him look like a dork and unintentionally lightens the mood a smidge.

"Where are the chuckle twins?" Logan poses, observing the swirl in his drink as it settles from being poured.

"Janus said 'surprise' when he went into his room," Patton answers.

"Remus went with him," Virgil grumbles.

The silence reignites as a door opens from down the hall. Remus walks out with a tray of six shot glasses, brimming with syrupy liqueur. Janus walks a metre behind him, head held high.

"We'll all sleep better after this," he insists proudly as Remus parades the tray around, face blank and ashy as slate. He doesn't take sleep deprevation particularly well, but he handles it better than Roman copes with Janus sitting beside him. Where Virgil has turned and planted his feet on the couch seat, Roman parks himself, arms curling around his waist as the countdown starts. The crowd on the street chants and the six watch, breath held.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" It screeches, fireworks filling the screen with a blinding light, flooding the living room with a rectangular explosion of warm white. The group heaves a collective sigh.

Before the festivities can draw themselves out too long, Virgil leans down and over Roman, placing his fingers flat and sideways beneath his chin. In compliance with a rhythm long established, Roman closes his eyes and allows Virgil control. Their lips part, connect, and close around the other's in a chaste display of commitment and affection. Roman seasons the display by running his hand up Virgil's outer thigh.

"Oh! Well, if we're getting crazy," Patton posits with a muted smile, skirting the breakfast bar he'd been slumped on and bending over the couch. Janus looks up and to the side to recieve and return what he had rightly expected to be a sweet, tired peck. It brings a modest and satisfied smile out of the shadow that was his bored expression.

"This does not constitute crazy," Logan commented, unbeknownst to the presence lurking behind him. It makes first contact with his waist, cold fingers slid beneath his sleep shirt. He sucks in a shocked breath as the ice burns his skin. "You do."

"Love you, too."

Janus sits up and addresses the three behind them with a raise of his glass. "Are we ready?"

"Affirmative."

"Yeah."

"Okay..."

"Indeed!"

"I don't have to, do I?"

"No, dear, but it's not ordinary spirit. I think you'll like it." Patton grimaces at his glass and observes the others. A beat passes, Janus gestures to the room with his drink and everyone follows his lead in taking the shot.

"It's almost unbearably sweet."

"I did not expect that coming from you, Logan," Roman comments as he inspects his cup. "Do you not like toffee?"

"I didn't say that."

"No need for the defenses, Doc, I only asked."

"He just wants us to know to save him some whenever it's goin' 'round," Virgil swoops in, smile on his face, voice raspy. Roman takes his glass and hands it to Patton.

"I wonder why you chose something so sweet," Roman implicates. Janus turns around and looks up at Patton, who is smiling with such soulful conviction that it hurts.

"I loved it."

'Score,' Janus thinks as he settles into the couch and joins the others in watching the screen.

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First Day - The Balcony Au, Chapter 1

Prinxiety, everyone. Come get y'all's juice.

The first official part. Send me suggestions for things I can do to improve my writing.

Roman tremored as the room became visible. There were boxes everywhere, his air mattress was stiff beneath him, the curtainless window above his head beamed down at the opposite wall with light and he was still in his clothes without a blanket to be heard of. His vision was tunnelled and blurry and his eyes were crusted closed. He rubbed them and it didn't help. It never did.

First day. First day at the new job, first day in the new place, first day living with Remus entirely on their own.

His limbs ached. Throwing his leg over the edge of his 'bed' and getting the rest of his body to follow was a Herculean effort. Landing on his knees and sitting there with nothing but the wall against your forehead for support was an achievement. His chest heaved.

A knock at the door made the nerves in Roman's spine strike in all directions, giving him a harsh chill. His shoulders squared.

"Yeah?" His voice was hoarse.

The door opened and his brother stalked in, already washed and dressed and ready for his own work.

"Dude, it's half seven, haul ass."

Shit! With an anxious puff, Roman grabbed the windowsill and dragged himself to his feet, picking up the towel he'd set out for himself the night before on the way. Remus stepped back to allow him passage to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

It took an hour in total for Roman to finish getting ready. First, the shower, and then the hair, and then a light splash of neutral makeup to make it look like the bags under his eyes were part of a sultry look instead of the result of whatever the fuck it was that made his sleep so turbulent the night before.

"Corpse Chic is a bold choice for the first day."

"I know," Roman groaned. Remus' reaction was less than enthused. The hoarse croak his brother's voice had been that morning had sustained itself and he didn't bother to quip back at Remus' mocking. Concerning.

Remus drove that morning, face blank if you selectively ignore the anxious looks he kept giving his twin. The only thing keeping Roman alive awake in the car were the bumps in the road.

It was just a café. Brick walls, beige sofas and ugly reading chairs. Roman fit in perfectly, wearing his all-black uniform with a grey apron and the cream company logo on his left chest.

Thank God, he didn't need any training. The machines were similar to those at his old job, much like everything else.

It was an hour into the morning when business ebbed severely, the rush ending rather abruptly after the crowd was chipped away at one by one. Roman was propped against the counter, ignoring the chatter of the other two on the floor, knowing they were discussing him and not giving a single, cellular fuck when the bell tolled. His eyes focused.

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Immediately noticeable was the height. Easily 6'1, maybe a little taller if he'd stand up straight and in a hoodie that had certainly seen better days. His skin was pale and kinda sickly in a homebody sort of fashion, his shoulders were built enough to give away that he probably worked out and his hair was spiked down to his shoulders.

It woke Roman up.

"A cappuccino with two extra shots, if you can." The texture of his voice felt like smooth stone against your palms when you're sat under the rain, letting it consume your attention until it's broken by something external. How can something so sturdy and assertive be so polite and accommodating?

"Sure." He hadn't spoken all morning and it had taken a toll on his vocal chords. His attempt at contact with this captivating stranger had only served to alienate him. He let himself express the cringe openly when he turned around to start the press.

While steaming the milk, Roman allowed himself a peek. The stranger was stood with his wrists and ankles crossed, rested against the short wall behind him, looking rather uncomfortable. It was the lack of eye contact that let Roman really concentrate on his facial features.

An anguished brow, dark eyes, a hooked bridge, hollowed cheeks and a sharp jaw. All awfully innocuous, but together, made for a pretty picture. His lip and nose were both pierced and Roman would bet anything that his ears were, too. What kind of earrings would he wear? Gauges? That'd be cool.

"That's done for you," he announced without meeting the stranger at eye level. His focus stayed with the cup in waiting for him to walk away. He didn't.

The pads of Roman's fingertips took such a grip on the counter that the prints were visible on the laminate surface. His pulse slammed obnoxiously in his throat, forcing him to press his tongue to the roof of his mouth. To anyone else, he looked mildly nauseous.

"Are you...?" Roman looking up seemed to stifle his confidence. He seemed to shrink into himself, trying to hide, despite his size making the effort futile.

Fuck it. Roman blinked and fixed his posture, back crunching after so long being abused.

"What's your name?"

"Oh - Virgil."

"Unique. Pick it yourself, by any chance?"

Roman had been joking but Virgil's face lit up behind the... concealer? Holy shit! For a second, Roman thought he was on the money entirely by accident.

"No, but... no, I didn't." Guess not.

What was he going to say? Intrigue was too high. They couldn't stop now.

"I'm Roman."

"Yeah, I saw the name tag. Did you... pick it yourself?" Roman shook his head. Virgil nodded amicably.

Before the lull in conversation could get too deep to climb out of, Roman bowed his head humbly. "Enjoy your drink." His voice was cheerful, but quiet, and accompanied by a little smile.

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Moving Boxes - The Balcony AU, Prologue Pt. 2

I haven't written in a long while and this is my way of getting back into practice.

Once again in front of their cars and unsure where to start, arms crossed and brows furrowed, the boys stirred.

"What do we take up first?"

"Not clothes."

"Agreed. What did you bring?"

"Blankets, books, a calendar... and that's all I really cared about."

"Start with the books. We can use them as bedside tables."

"I can see your bedside table in your back seat, you don't need my books."

Roman sneered at his brother and got a nose scrunch in return. He smoothed his hem with anxious fingers.

The colouring around them was fading into jewel tones and the air was chilling quickly. Roman looked up and saw no sun to warm him.

"Did you bring a coat?"

"Did you NOT??"

Roman flushed redder than his light, coppery skin tone would normally allow. In embarrassment, he leaned away, head ducked and looking up at Remus with an innocent scowl.

"God, you noob! You can steal one of mine until you get a new one." Remus dragged his way through three of his coats and found the least offensive: a single-breasted dress coat with a slight flare at the hem, reaching mid-thigh if you were 5'9 like themselves.

"Thanks," mumbled his brother, draping it over his shoulders direly.

A beat of tense quiet thumped like a heartbeat between the twins as Romam sat himself in his boot and slouched.

"I know it's hard but you gotta stick it out. We got this far."

"I'm not like you! I don't gallavant."

"No, but you got no choice. Do you wanna go back?"

"How is that even a question?"

"Then you're gallivanting. Let's get all this shit upstairs and go air-mattress shopping."

"...okay."

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A room full of boxes didn't look as untidy as Roman had been expecting. Given that his were organised by size and stacked to prioritise accessibility, he was content with his setup. The corner to the right of the door had been reserved for the bed.

Remus', conversely, fit the bill. Boxes placed where convenient and unmoved until no longer as convenient, with a healthy dose of loose items strung about the shop. He placed down his last box, struck a pleased pose with his hands on his hips and nodded in triumph.

"Let's go shopping!"

It seemed as though Remus' spirits had returned. His skip echoed down the hallway and hit Roman's ears like a bass drum, whose breath flinched with every vibration.

"Whose car?"

Remus became instantaneously suspicious and slowed to wait at the bottom of the first flight as Roman locked up, concentrating and silent to listen. The keys made a scraping from shakey hands missing their target. His tongue popped in confirmation: Roman was struggling.

Much as he boasted his spontaneity, instability was not his friend.

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Choosing Rooms - The Balcony AU, Prologue Pt. 1

My first fic on this site! I'm new to tumblr after fucking around clicking links on Google and finally deciding to join. I'm cool with suggestions and concrit and shit like that.

This one, I think, will be a casual series wherein the twins are moving out for the first time at 21 and become absolutely catatonic at the concept. I think it will be fun.

It's only called the Balcony AU because the apartment has a balcony and I'm excited about it.

Into a cramped yet sizeable car park, two cars drove in sync. The dual parking spaces were small, but these cars were smaller. The same model and everything, besides colour. The shades of red and green were cartoonish and rich, sparkly, and new.

The red door opened and out stepped Roman with his curly auburn hair in a French braid, reaching mid back and overlapping the cream shade of his t-shirt. His sneakers matched, of course, and the burgundy jeans he chose complimented the identically-coloured hems and pocket. His socks were deliberately invisible.

Remus, on the other hand, had draped himself in a black pair of overalls with broken straps and a seamripped pocket with an old, grey top underneath. His headscarf was an obnoxious neon green and concealed most of his bright red hair. Some of it poked out at either the nape of his neck or the front where he'd cut blunt bangs into it at home.

At their trunks, they both stared, stanced equally in apprehension and excitement.

"Where do we even start?"

"Dunno. We have the keys..." Remus drifted into stale thoughtfulness, and then a lightbulp sparked into being above his head.

"Let's choose rooms!"

They raced for the fourth floor, giggling like idiots, until Remus eventually beat his brother by a hair by playing dirty and pushing Romam aside at the top of the third flight. Roman shoved him back and opened the door himself, earning a shriek of a laugh from his brother.

"Shut up! You're so loud!" Roman scoffed with a beaming grin on his face. Remus returned his affections until he walked in and dropped his jaw.

Pale walls and laminated floors covered the floor in front of the door and to the right, all the way down the left hallway. The kitchen, separated from the living space with a little breakfast bar, couldn't have been any bigger than an ordinary bedroom and boasted a glass splashback above the stove.

"Where are the rooms?" Remus drawled, trying to take less notice of the balcony and concentrate on what needed doing. Roman, silent in awe and hugging himself, pointed non-committally and started his journey down.

The walls were smooth. The floor creaked quietly. The doors were plasterboard. The handles were plastic. The bedroom doors were equidistant from one another and the bathroom door was at the very end. From there, if you look down the hallway, you could see the whole length of the flat.

It was all theirs.

The first one they visited, after shrugging at an extremely basic bathroom, was the one closest to it:

It expanded out toward the right from where the door was and the window hung in the opposite corner. The carpet was oatmeal and the walls were eggshell white.

"You could put a writing desk in there."

"I could, couldn't I? Let's try the next one, first - see how we feel."

The pair slipped sluggishly into the next room and found that it was more of the same.

"Who gets the one closest to the bathroom?"

"I got no problem with you taking it."

"Nor I, you..."

See, these two have a trick for decisions like these. Whether neither of them care, or they both care too much, a healthy dose of reasoning pulled them out on the other side.

The room stayed silent for a minute straight.

"You take ages preening. I wanna get there first in the morning."

"I cook more often. Being closer to the kitchen would make a good deal of sense."

"Settled?"

"... I should think so."

And so, Remus left, opening his door and staring into the void of potential.

"Oh, shit, do we need mattresses?"

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I wanna make a TSS fanfic site out of this blog but where the physical fuck do I start? Someone make a request.