shae-and-sides

[shae-and-sides]

Cracks in the Ceiling

words: ~2500

pairings: platonic or romantic analogical

warnings: anxious thoughts, mentions of spiders and imminent doom, Remus and Deceit are mentioned in a benevolent manner

AO3  |  my masterlist

Virgil really felt like ceilings weren’t supposed to have this many cracks. 

He’d counted twenty-three cracks at this point, twenty-three individual, spidering fissures in the bumpy plaster of his ceiling, and he could only see the portion of his ceiling directly above his bed. He couldn’t imagine how many more cracks there were outside his field of vision. Surely twenty-three cracks - or whatever undetermined number there actually was - couldn’t be structurally sound. Would his ceiling cave in soon? Who knew what pressure it would take to make twenty-three (or more) cracks into one all-encompassing crack, a spider web of failing plaster and imminent doom, just waiting to crush him where he lay right then? 

His eyes flickered to the right and caught a spindly mark on the ceiling, right near the wall. 

Twenty-four cracks. Well, now he felt so much better.

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[shae-and-sides]

Lockets

So… Here’s another LAMP Soulmate AU! 

Warnings - Virgil is sad, Bullying mention, Patton is sad for a bit, Virgil’s thoughts get a little spirally, mention of like… science biology exhibit thingy? Let me know if there is something Cover art by maeofclubsart!!!!

–

Virgil Thomas Jenkins was seven years old when the Soulmate Caravan made it’s way into his town. His mother and father had explained to him that whenever the caravan came to town, all of the people who didn’t have their Soul Locket yet would go and see if one called out to them. They were only allowed to have one locket, and if one was meant to be his, he would know. He had so many questions about how it all worked, and where they came from, and how the locket knew who his soulmate was going to be. But no one really had an answer for that. The Caravan was mystical and magical… Somehow feeling absolute.

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY VIRGIL!! 💜🖤💜

This animation took a while and my hand is dead but it was worth it 😄

@thatsthat24

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my favorite part was Deceit going “Ssssssssuck up!” to Patton when he was buttering up Roman like

Deceit

pal

your name isn’t Jealousy, calm thy snaketits

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Fun writing exercise

So I did a little experiment today where I took one scene and used it to write two drabbles; one from the sickies pov and one from the caretakers. (You can see my results here.) It was interesting to take a look at my writing style and seeing what others thought and which pov they preferred, and I thought it would be fun for other writers to do the same!

Below is list of prompts. Have your followers send you one item from each of the three categories and write two drabbles for the one scene from each point of view

Symptoms:

Chills

Congestion

Coughing

Dizziness

Headache

Nausea

Overheating

Sneezing

Sniffling

Tiredness/fatigue

Actions:

Crying

Curling up

Eating

Gentle caress/kiss

Grabby hands

Hand carding through hair

Pouting

Spreading out

Temp taking

Using a cool cloth

Dialogue:

～Sickie～

“I don’t feel so good”

“I’m sorry I’m so sick”

(Caretaker’s name drawn out)

“Hold me”

“Don’t leave me”

“Leave me here to die”

“I’ve had worse”

“I don’t have time to be sick”

“I feel like shit”

“I’m not a baby, stop treating me like one.”

～Caretaker～

“I’m right here”

“You feel warm”

“You’ll be okay”

“Are you sure you’re all right?“

“Stop pretending you’re fine”

“You look ready to pass out”

“Get some rest”

“You need to eat”

“I told you this would happen.”

“I love you”

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The Olive Branch

Sanders Sides: Roman, Virgil Blurb: They used to celebrate Christmas Eve without Anxiety there to ruin things. But this year Roman plans to change that.  Fic Type: General, Christmas  Warnings: None

Roman didn’t know how long he’d stood there, hand raised to knock on Anx–Virgil’s door. 

“Come on.” He whispered to himself. “It’s just knocking.” 

But at the same time it was more than that. This was Virgil’s door and Roman hadn’t ever actively sought out the dark trait before. A problem he needed to amend now that Anx–Virgil had revealed his name. 

Before then Roman had been quite happy to ignore the stormy dark side whenever there wasn’t a video to put on. After all, Anxiety was the bad guy, the antagonist, only needed for the drama. 

He exhaled, hand trembling in place. But Virgil… Virgil wasn’t that. Hearing his name only made him more… Real. Real in the sense that Virgil was a real Side, someone more than his job. Someone with feelings. Someone who had wants, dreams, likes, dislikes…

Someone who was probably very tired of being isolated in the mindscape. Someone who probably hated Roman and wouldn’t want to open the door once he realized it was him standing there. 

Roman swallowed over the lump in his throat, his heart pounding unevenly in his chest. Just get it over with. Virgil would let him know pretty quickly if his presence wasn’t wanted. He dropped his hand to the door in a quick triple rap before taking a step back, trying to appear non-threatening as he waited. 

It felt like an eternity before he heard the fumbling of the lock and the door opened the barest of cracks. 

Roman gave the crack a wide smile. He couldn’t tell if An–Virgil could see him, but it was best to make a good impression. “Greetings, Vir–” He flinched as the door closed, shoulders slumping as he stared at the wooden blockade. Well…he had expected this to be the result had he not? It was no secret that they didn’t have the best of relationshi–

The door swung open a little wider, revealing Virgil without the black makeup, his hoodie haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, unzipped. 

Roman gaped at the Side in surprise, he couldn’t recall ever seeing him without the dark emo shadows under his eyes. It made him look all the younger. 

Virgil tilted head, leaning against the doorway, the faint sounds of I’ll be Home for Christmas coming from his room. “Well now I’ve seen everything.” He commented, raising an eyebrow. “A Prince without his Princey uniform.”

Roman blinked, glancing down to his white shirt and red pajama bottoms before shrugging. “It’s…well.” He rubbed the back of his head, “Kind of a tradition to be in more relaxed attire on Christmas Eve.” 

Virgil raised an eyebrow, eyes going dark. “Oh?”

Right. Roman really hoped his face wasn’t turning red. Gah! Two seconds of conversation and he was already messing this up. Anx–Virgil wouldn’t know of their traditions. He was never around on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. 

“Yah…” Roman dropped his hands, spreading them out in a peaceful gesture. “I thought…if you weren’t busy.” His eyes flickered to the shadows behind Virgil, wondering why the Anxious Side was listening to that particular song before meeting his gaze. “That is…ah…I came to invite you to come downstairs and join us.”

Virgil’s eyebrows drew together and he gave the slightest shake of his head. “Come again?” 

Roman shrugged. “I thought….” His fingers twitched. “You could join us…this year…Virge.”

Virgil frowned, looking him up and down before again shaking his head. “You don’t want me there.” 

Roman placed his fist on his heart, not liking how certain he sounded. “On my honor, I do.”

He scoffed. “You want Anxiety to come ruin the happy mood?”  

“I want Virgil to come celebrate with us, his Family.” 

Virgil tensed, hand on the handle of the door. “Family?” He repeated with disbelief.

“Yes!” Was it a mistake to refer to him like that? As Family? He’d thought they’d made that clear enough in the last couple of videos.

“You’re kidding.” 

Apparently not. Roman shook his head, his pulse pounding in his ears. He wasn’t kidding! Virgil had to believe him. “No! No. I…look. I just want to try and…well I know it’s not going to make things right. We’ve been…” He gestured vaguely between the two of them. “I’ve been horrible to you, but I thought I’d try and…well you know. Change it. This year.” He trailed off under Virge’s unblinking stare, heart sinking. 

Well, he’d thought it was a good idea, but now it was seeming more and more like a dumb one. Why hadn’t he had Patton come up and invite Virge down instead? He had a better rapport with the anxious side than Roman ever would. Why had he not thought of that sooner! His one chance to invite their Stormcloud to join them and he’d ruined it! 

Virgil exhaled, leaning against the doorway once more, crossing his arms. “I dunno, Ro.”

Roman lifted his head. That wasn’t a straight out No. Maybe there was hope after all. A smile tugged once more at his lips.  “Ro?”

“Do you prefer Romano?” 

He winced. 

Virgil smirked, humor briefly dancing in his eyes. “Didn’t think so.” 

So long as he could keep him smiling and convince Virgil to come down…then maybe Roman would tolerate the awful nickname. “Ha…you uh…thought right.” He ran a hand through his hair before gesturing to the stairs. “Look…Virge, it’s not anything crazy downstairs. We start off with making and decorating cookies.” 

Virgil snorted, the corner of his lip twitching upwards “Not crazy huh?” 

Okay, Roman had to give him that. “Alright, so Logan gets a little crazy with the frosting…”

Virgil’s eyebrows shot up. “Logan? Not Patton?” 

Roman chuckled, nodding. “Pat’s the sprinkles, but Lo can never get the tubes of frosting to work right, he nearly covered the tree last year–” He shook his head, he was getting off track. “But seriously, Virge, it’s just decorating cookies, Logan reads us The Night Before Christmas, and then we all crash on the floor in front of the tree and watch Christmas movies until we fall asleep. It’s all very lowkey.”

Virgil fiddled with the string of his hoodie, not quite looking at Roman. “…And you want me to join…”

Hadn’t he already stated so? “Yes.”  

Virgil frowned, glancing back into his darkened room, pulling his sleeves over his hands.

Roman leaned forward, struggling to breathe evenly as he waited for the Anxious Side’s answer. 

Virgil exhaled, suddenly zipping up his hoodie. “Alright, fine.” He said stepping out into the hallway shutting the door behind him. “Just don’t…don’t expect me to stay the entire time, okay?” 

Roman grinned, fighting to not laugh out loud as the tension eased from his shoulders. He got Virgil to agree to come join them! Ha! “Of course.” He said with an eager nod, leading him to the stairs. “Stay however long you want.”

End.   Taglist in reblog

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[shae-and-sides]

Quick question: while it is in February, is it allowed to be platonic/not romantic? If not I understand! I’m just trying to get my bearings before I get all excited!!

Fluffuary 2020 - Let the Ships Sail!

What is Fluffuary?

Fluffuary is a month long event held in the month of February focusing around any and all Sanders Sides ships, plus a few other TS characters for flavor! Each day has a different ship prompt, including several choice days to make sure you have the chance to write your favorite ships!

What can I make for the event?

Anything you’d like! Art, fic, moodboards, cosplay, song playlists, edits, etc! Any and all content is accepted as long as it follows the rules!

Do I have to follow the prompts?

Nope! The prompts are there to provide a starting point, but feel free to deviate! If there’s only a few ships you’d like to focus on for the month, you can do so! You can skip days or post multiple pieces on the same day too. This is meant to be a fun, stress free event! The works you create don’t even need to be fluff, if you feel like making something else! 

How do I get my stuff reblogged here?

If you’re participating in the event, make sure to use the tag #tsshipmonth2020 as well as tag this blog in your post! You don’t need to submit anything directly to this blog, just tag it if you want your work to be reblogged here!

This is for February, why is it posted so early?

Life is busy. As a junior in college, my life is pulling me in every direction right now. So I want to make sure that if there are other people like me who like to prepare in advance for events like this so they can post on time, that I’m giving them adequate time to prep. 

Prompt List Under Cut

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[shae-and-sides]

The Way Old Friends Do

Relationship: Romantic Logince

Characters: Logan, Roman, brief mentions of Virgil and Patton

Synopsis: They’ve danced this way for years, Roman ever moving like the tide, reaching out and then retreating. Wave after wave he’s poured his attention, his passion onto Logan’s steady shore, only to retreat when it fails to leave a mark.

Logan has let Roman’s endless sea wash over him, feigning cool indifference time and again. But in the quiet of his mind it has changed him, this push and pull, this game they play. Slowly, gradually, like the shifting of sand, Roman has stripped away layer upon layer of resistance to reach his deepest heart. And to dwell there at last, warm and undeniable, making himself a home.

Warnings: Food mentions, kissing, brief mention of alcohol but no one has actually had any

Word Count: 6,083

Notes: The title and lyrics are from the Abba song The Way Old Friends Do, which my brain one night spontaneously decided to link to Logince.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

You and I can share the silence Finding comfort together The way old friends do And after fights and words of violence We make up with each other The way old friends do

The amber glow of the firelight dances over the scattered remnants of the party, sparking tongues of flame on the cut glass punch bowl at the centre of the table. Long shadows stretch and pool at the edges of the room, and the bunting’s rainbow pennants are drained of their vivid hues.

Logan has eyes for none of this. He sits on the sofa, elbow leaning on the armrest and his chin propped on his hand, his smoke-grey eyes wistful as he watches his only remaining companion.

Roman is picking through the food detritus on the table, nibbling on anything that takes his fancy. He has discarded his elaborate party jacket in the warm room, and the sleeves of his deep red shirt are rolled up above his elbows. Picking up a lone Dorito, left discarded on an otherwise empty platter, he gives it an experimental sniff. Satisfied, he pops it into his mouth and his lips curve into an appreciative smile. Then he turns and winks at Logan, to show he knew all along how closely he was being observed.

Logan’s face flushes at having been caught staring, and he grasps desperately for a verbal life raft to salvage his pride. “I told you there would be food left over”, he says sternly. “There was no need for such excessive purchasing for only eight people.”

Roman throws his head back and groans. “It was a party, nerd! There’s supposed to be too much food!” He turns to glare at his companion, rolling his shoulders in an elaborate shrug that seems to ripple down his arms, to be flung loose from his fingertips with a flick of his wrists. “And besides, there wouldn’t be so much left if you hadn’t insisted on adding healthy options.”

The last is said with the disdain of one who will never touch a salad if there is steak available.

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Everyone's talking about Virgil Angst but meanwhile I'm sitting here thinking about Roman because like?? Presumably he's on Broadway right? And to wake up finding you're a known broadway star has to be a dream come true even if it's jarring that suddenly finding yourself so much older. But like Roman has no memories of the years between hs and now. He wakes up, finds he's performing in a show that very day. bUT NOT ONLY THAT, it's a new show, one he's never heard of so he has no lines 1/?

no lyrics, noblocking memorized. And he’s expected to perform. So a thespian’s nightmareright there. Maybe for extra Angst points the understudy is out sick. Or hejust forces himself to perform, not wanting to disappoint or miss this“chance” to be on Broadway. Either way it doesn’t go well and Romanis left with his spirits crushed and still completely lost as to how he endedup in the future. 2/2

Back to theFuture, part II

Fandom: Thomas Sanders,Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic LAMP

Word Count: 2620

Masterlist Link

_______________________

Roman wakes up with a pillow beingthrown at his face.

“Chop, chop! Time to go.”

Roman groans, “Is it time forschool already?”

The person laughs.

It’s then that Roman realizes thatit’s neither of his parents, nor one of his friends who would sometimes sleepover.

Roman sits up, shirtless but that’susual. What’s not usual is the man fixing his hair in the mirror of a largevanity table.

“Who are you?” Roman asks,instantly suspicious. He snatches up a hair brush that’s lying on the bedsidetable, wielding it like a sword. “Where am I? What do you want with me?”

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[shae-and-sides]

imagine: virgil sometimes gets painful stomach aches to where he cant get up out of bed. he just lays on his side rubbing it and crying. logan comes in and and gives him medicine while patton has virgil's head on his lap petting his hair and roman tells him a story to take his mind off of it.

Sorry, kinda took this idea and ran away with it! This is all over the place and not super polished because I’m exhausted and avoiding my real life responsibilities, but I just had this image in my head and it wouldn’t leave me alone, so take it for what it’s worth!

Warnings: Descriptions of pain, specifically stomach pain (not nausea, more like cramps) 

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM

Word count: 1,357 

Usually, Virgil was alone when it happened. One minute he’d be fine, the next he’d be doubled over in agony, clutching his abdomen. The first time, the pain had been so unexpected and so intense that Virgil was convinced he was dying and ended up in the throws of a panic attack on top of the already unbearable stomach ache. After the fourth or fifth time it happened, he realized that the horrible, stabbing pain in his abdomen did not in fact mean that he was about to die, and he managed to stop panicking each time the incident occurred. 

Of course, that didn’t make it hurt any less.

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Number 10 w/ father-son moxiety ?

10. “I thought I’d never get to see you again.”

Content Warnings: School shooting, active shooter, guns/gunfire, fear, panic attack, crying, hurt/comfort (there IS a happy ending, I promise) 

Word Count: 1,287

This…went a little further than I was planning, but this is a very visceral topic for me, and I wanted to do it justice. Still, I hope you like reading it. <3 

—

Virgil pressed himself into an even smaller ball in the corner of the school bathroom, doing his best to quiet his sobs. He’d been just about to wash his hands when the intercom sounded, alerting the school that there was an active shooter on the campus. The announcement had cut off abruptly, and no further updates had come through the pa system. 

Virgil didn’t want to think about what that meant. 

All the active shooter drills in the world couldn’t have prepared him for the horrifying reality. True, he’d never made it through one of those drills without having a panic attack either, but when that happened, a student or teacher or someone was always there to pull him aside, to help him through his breathing exercises and remind him that it wasn’t real, that he was safe. 

Now, he was alone, huddled in a bathroom stall waiting for the killer to find him. And the shooter would find him, they’d been told over and over again that if this happened they had to run or fight, not hide, but Virgil couldn’t help it. He always froze every time they did these drills, and now that was going to get him killed. 

As if confirming his fears, footsteps sounded outside the door, and Virgil clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sob that tried to escape him. Oh god, he was going to die, he was going to die before he even turned seventeen…he didn’t even know what he wanted to do with his life yet, and it was going to be taken away before he could even figure it out. 

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[shae-and-sides]

A Lovely Rivalry

Summary: The English teacher Logan and drama teacher Roman are known for their bickering rivalry, so it comes as quite a shock when the two get engaged.

Pairing: Logince

This is a commissioned piece for @nblievablenerd! My commissions are open, and Commission Info can be found in my blog bio or feel free to message me with any questions!

————————————————————————-

“Oh, congratulations, Professor Prince!” Patton cheered, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he looked at the glittering silver ring, adorned with diamonds.

Several of the female classmates were ooh-ing and ahh-ing over Roman Prince’s ring as he boldly held it up for the class to see. While it was not an unusual occurrence for Roman to interrupt his own lecture, it wasn’t every day that your gay professor got engaged. Even Virgil, sulking in the back, had to admit he held a little bit of curiosity.

“Who’s the lucky man?” Remy asked, leaning forwards.

“The most wonderful, brilliant, talented individual in the world.” Roman sighed happily, gazing fondly down at his ring in a way that was almost sickening.

“That’s not a straight answer.” Remy huffed, feeling led on by the promise of fiancé relationship tea.

“It’s not a straight relationship.” Virgil retorted. He turned a bit red, snickers coming from around him as he was overheard.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Roman asked, meeting Virgil’s gaze.

“Uh…” Virgil shrunk back in his chair. Thankfully, he was spared from answering by the entrance of one Logan Sanders.

“Roman, I need your assistance.” The English teacher explained, the door between their classrooms left open. Both classes immediately tensed. The rivalry between the two professors was known throughout the land, dating back to when Roman and Logan were in college themselves. Often they would interrupt the other’s class and end up bickering the rest of the hour away. It was a miracle the principal hadn’t relocated them both to opposite ends of the building with how often they jumped at each other’s throats.

“Yes, what is it, Sir Issac Nerd-ton?” Roman gave a dramatic sigh, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a very important announcement?”

“I’m pleased to see your audience is engaged as always.” Logan retorted dryly. The two looked across the room, where several of the students were not-so-subtly on their phones.

“Roman’s gotten engaged!” Patton announced excitedly.

“Yes, I’m quite aware.” Logan assured him. “Roman, if you cannot drive a thoughtful discussion within your own classroom you can at least assist the lively discussion within my own. We’re discussing Shakespeare today, and the students are conflicted over the romantic nature of Romeo and Juliet.”

“You mean the most iconic love story in all of history?” Roman corrected. “It’s a tale of true love!”

“Now this is exactly the kind of reckless thought process I am trying to avoid!” Logan gestured towards Roman, beginning to get riled up. “I am attempting to point out the numerous flaws in the work, yet I have a room full of hopeless romantics who seem to believe a pair of aroused teenagers who lack proper communication skills represent the ideal romantic pairing.”

“It’s true love, you Sap-luster Instructor.” Roman looked annoyed, putting his hands on his hips. “The gestures of passion and the dedication to each other are enough of an indicator to the bond between them, a bond that could not be separated even in death.”

“You are impossible.” Logan rolled his eyes. “It is not charming to commit suicide at your lover’s grave, especially when she has hardly been dead at all and a simple wait period of an hour would have been enough to spare both lives.”

“They lived in a world where their love was forbidden.” Roman explained with a huff. “The point of the play is to show that everyone has turned against them, and yet in the sweet embrace of each other they can find eternal comfort.”

“That is a morbid and incorrect statement, pulled from your own fantasies with no evidence from the work itself.” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, looking annoyed. “It was foolish of me to believe you could assist me in this endeavor.”

“You can be honest, Specs.” Roman teased, wiggling his engagement hand again. “You heard love and immediately thought of me.”

“It’s certainly a possible correlation, considering how loudly you’ve been announcing your relationship over here.” Logan’s annoyance seemed to lessen though, his lips almost twitching up in amusement.

“Do you want to stay?” Roman requested. “You could give your own input to my tale of affection between two hearts.”

“That’s anatomically inaccurate- feelings of affection originate in your cerebrum, not your cardiac muscle.” Logan tapped the top of his head to indicate he was referencing the human brain. “Regardless, I have my own session to return to, considering unlike yourself I do not feel the need to disrupt class to announce my engagement.”

“Wait a moment.” Patton gasped, pointing to Logan’s hand. A few of the girls squealed, noticing the same thing. Where Logan’s hands were often bare, today he was adorned with a single silver band. “Professor Sanders, you got engaged, too?”

Logan gave Patton a slightly perplexed look, holding his hand higher so that the ring was visible. “It’s Professor Prince now, actually.”

The room was deftly silent, and then every one of the 50 students leaned forwards in unison, desperate for more details.

“Say more right now.” Remy instructed sternly, his sunglasses falling so far down his nose that the incredulous look in his eye was clearly visible.

“No way…” Virgil breathed, his eyes darting back and forth between the two educators, trying to figure out if this was some sort of prank. But Logan didn’t do pranks, and the only thing Roman was ever serious about was his adoration for his boyfriend-now-fiancé.

“Wait, but- I- you-“ Patton seemed to be at a loss for words, trying to stammer out a comprehensible sentence as his wide doe eyes comprehended what was just said to him.

“Ah.” Logan turned to Roman. “I take it you had not disclosed the nature of our relationship.”

“Well, I knew you hadn’t, and despite my pomp and circumstance I wanted to respect your wishes.” Roman admitted, bouncing eagerly on his toes as a sly grin grew until it threatened to split his face in half. “And considering how that went, I am so glad I waited!” Clearly, the thespian was eagerly soaking in all this drama.

“Seriously?!” Virgil for once didn’t feel anxious about shouting in class, because considering his whole world was breaking apart Virgil wanted answers. “But you two hate each other!”

“’Hate’ is a very negative and incorrect term, although I can see how that conclusion could be drawn based solely on our classroom interactions.” Logan had gone into full teacher mode, adjusting his glasses. “We often disagree on more trivial concepts, and possess the ability to easily rile the other-“

“Gross, TMI.” Remy gagged.

“-but, at the end of the day, we are two passionate individuals who see eye to eye and understand the other on a deeper cognitive level.” Logan finished.

“Think of our little debates as just lover’s quarrels.” Roman explained with a wave of his hand.

“Actually, that is the exact opposite of what I was attempting to convey.” Logan gave Roman a slight glare. “A lover’s quarrel indicates we are in a true verbal disagreement with the other as individuals, instead of having a debate disconnected from our association with each other-“

“Yes yes, you’re an English nerd, I get it.” Roman rolled his eyes, grabbing one of Logan’s hands. “Don’t you have to return to your nerd cult?”

“Literary seminar.” Logan corrected, but there was a fond smile on his face as Roman kissed the back of his hand.

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A C.A.L.M. Reveal

I just had this really specific scene in my head and I couldn’t figure out what to do with it.. So I wrote this to kind of.. I don’t know. Get the idea out so i can stop obsessing about it. So uh.. Here’s this like… Platonic LAMP Band/Famous AU, thing?

-

“Welcome back to the countdown of the reveal of the hottest and most mysterious band of the year! We are only about 15 minutes out from the beginning of the concert that C.A.L.M. has promised will be their big unveiling! After the past year of hit singles, an amazing album, and secretive stage names, who do you think will be behind that amazing music?

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Guys, we’re getting the band together!

Wow! Another fanfic! This time inspired by the lovely @not-so-innocent-bi-sander ‘s CALM band au, which you can find here.

summary: how Roman manages to get them all together in one place and pitch his idea.

word count: 2500 ish

Enjoy!!

“Mr. Brooks? A messenger dropped this off for you this morning.”

Logan looked up from his phone as he walked into his office and nodded gratefully at his secretary, taking the letter from him.

“Thank you Dominic. If you need me, I’ll be going over the latest mix in my office until my meeting at eleven.”

Logan Brooks: music producer, DJ, remixer, and EDM composer extraordinaire. Logan sat down at his desk, taking a moment to look out over the skyline, before turning his attention to the letter he had been handed.

To: Mr. Logan Brooks was scrawled on the front of the heavy, cream colored envelope. It was sealed with a bright red, wax seal that made Logan quirk his eyebrow. That was a bit extravagant. He grabbed the letter opener he kept in his desk and deftly opened it.

Dear Mr. Logan Brooks,

You are cordially invited to a business dinner at my home this Friday evening at 7. I am a big fan of your work and would love to discuss a collaboration with you if at all possible. Do you have any allergies I should know of? Please let me know in your RSVP.

Highest regards,

Mr. Roman Lyons

Now that was a surprise. Roman Lyons was a well-known actor, having won several awards over the past year alone. What on earth could he want with Logan’s line of work?

But still, the invite was intriguing. He figured there would be no harm in seeing what this collaboration was all about. After all, if worse came to worse he could always decline. Rising from his seat, he returned to the front desk.

“Dominic. Send an RSVP to Mr. Lyons through the same messenger service. Tell him I’ll be there.”

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[shae-and-sides]

A Fool, A Jest

LOGAN ANGST LETS GO

This was mostly a “I’m frustrated and can’t write the other four things I’m working on so I’m gonna write random stuff and see where it goes” fic, so please excuse any inconsistencies.

Words: 2121

Pairings: Logicality

Warnings: nightmares, self doubt

 Perhaps it was the lack of dinner, or the late night in spite of his usually-rigid schedule - maybe it was just the subtle on-and-off flickering of his dying desk lamp - but Logan felt ready to bang his head against the wall until the neighbors complained.

  (Technically, his only neighbor in the mindscape was Roman, but he had no doubt the prince would try and file a formal complaint to Thomas just to be- oh, what was the word- ‘extra’.)

  He’d spent hours - hours - in front of his laptop, staring at a blank document as if video plans would type themselves if he hoped hard enough (spoiler alert: they did not). His eyes had starting burning long ago, and his stomach went hollow soon after, but he just wanted one word, just one, before he attended to his various other daily tasks.

  One word had failed to make its appearance.

  And so he’d sat, a prisoner at his desk, hands hovering over his keyboard uselessly, his frustrations growing as time went by- and so much time had gone by. He just wanted to be done, and he hadn’t even started.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid- just type, Logan, move your hands, movemovemove-

  But his mind was a broken clock - stuck despite its gears’ best efforts to keep the hands shifting across its face, stuck on a twitching loop, stuck on one thing.

  An all black room at first. Almost his bedroom, but too dark, too empty. Too noisy, with its incessant buzzing, just barely there in his ears, too much and too little all at once.

  “Just type,” he muttered to himself, yet his hands refused to listen; he felt the pressure grow behind his tired eyes, either a headache or a wave of tears he was not willing to shed.

  Footsteps, everywhere and nowhere. The buzzing stopped, replaced by a voice, then two, then three.

   He was so tired - a look at the clock showed a stiff 11:00, barely late at all, but paired with the last week of sporadic naps, it was an eternity. His mind had long since fogged up, to the point he couldn’t even remember if he’d left his room today. (Had he left? Had he eaten breakfast? Was that why he was so hungry?)

  “The smart one,” those voices sneered, “the genius. The fool.” Soft and sharp, hisses more than words, grotesque in his mind - but familiar. So, so familiar. “Genius. Ha!”

  His eyes fluttered closed for a second, but no, no, not now. He wouldn’t sleep, not until he had a word, or a paragraph, or a page. He wouldn’t sleep now. Just one word. (Had he eaten anything today? Water?)

  What acidic things to hear in those voices. Logan, in his odd, disconnected self, flinched, reaching for a wall to brace himself on, but the room was no longer even a passing parody of his; he was just existent in the space, a bystander to its form as the biting remarks slithered closer. “A fool, a jest,” they sang, “an idiot in disguise, oh, what a horrid ruse. What an awful costume!”  

  He’d distracted himself with books earlier - earlier in the week, that is - and it had worked, for a few days. When novels lost their effectiveness, he turned to dictionaries, then thesauruses, then anything with words that he could get his hands on, from old notebooks to shampoo bottles. They had worked! And then they didn’t.

  He could recite the every ingredient in the jar of Crofters in the fridge downstairs, but he couldn’t type one word.

  He could drown out two of them; he could convince himself that they were joking, or they were lashing out and would apologize later, but that voice pinched him too hard. That voice did not belong to those words. That voice belonged to coffee-scented mornings, to rainy afternoons on the porch with mugs of tea to warm the breeze, to breakfast for dinner, to disastrous maple cookies at midnight - it belonged to bright smiles and soft reassurances and kindness and encouragement and anything but this.

  One word, just one, to prove it to them, to their hisses and sneers and jeering sing-songs, that he was what Thomas needed him to be. He was enough for his position: objective, and observant, and certainly not about to cry over a stupid blank document.

  “Useless,” the golden voice sighed, practically preening, though Logan saw no one to accompany its tone. “What a shame. If he’d shown such disappointing… attributes earlier, we might have been able to replace him in time.”

  His eyes were getting heavier, the tremble in his wrists stronger. One word. Just to prove it- prove himself to them.

  “Always correcting us,” the brittle voice said, low and quiet, too heavy for the quick-fire snaps. “Always judging, always criticizing - how would you like it, Logan? To know you’re always wrong? You’re wrong, Logan. You’re broken, Logan.”

  His stomach rumbled again, snapping his eyes open. His mind spun and a rush of heat wracked his body suddenly- he needed to sleep, but he would not close his eyes, not now and not for a while. His fingers curled into fists over the keyboard.

  Despite the tension in his shoulders and the bite of his nails in his palms, he could manage. He could stand strong against them - they were just comments, aimed to hit and bring him crumbling to the ground, and he wrote them off as mere nuisances.

  Just one word, and he could sleep then- he could convince himself he was satisfied. He could sleep then. But not until he got one word down.

 But then, that voice, that awful amalgamation of what he knew, what he loved, and the twisted tones of his shadow room, whispered in his ear.

  “How do you feel, Logan?”

    He opened his eyes to knocking.

  It was a soft alarm at first, barely piercing the fog in his mind, until whoever was at his door decided to be a bit more insistent; it was far too loud for his aching head, but it forced the haziness from his thoughts enough for him to gather his bearings.

  He was curled on his side across the carpeted floor, fingers coiled in his hair and throbbing at the joints - he could just make out the shape of his glasses a few feet away, right next to his half-open laptop and a smattering of loose papers, which draped the pile like dead leaves.

  “Logan?”

  He flinched on instinct; his heartbeat slowed a second later as he reminded himself that this was his room, that was the voice he truly loved, not some shadowy reflection.

  “One minute,” he croaked, squeezing his eyes shut. How long had he been out? His computer was almost dead, so… a few hours, at least. Damn it.

  He crawled forward, grabbing his glasses - they were mostly fine, just a scratch across one of the frames, nothing he couldn’t ignore - and shoving them on, before grabbing the edge of his desk, hauling himself up with as little noise as possible. He ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and strode to the door.

  “Patton,” he greeted- and froze a moment later.

  Patton’s eyes were wide, his face ashen and mouth set in a deep frown as he looked Logan over like he were a ghost. “Lo?” the moral side said, his tone laced with skepticism, “Are you okay?”

  Logan’s heart hammered again suddenly (what did he know?) - was he okay? Of course, of course he was okay, of course - and he reached absentmindedly for Patton’s hand, concern overriding his former panic and exhaustion. “Of course. Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

  “You-” Patton blinked and squinted. He craned his neck, looking past the logical side suddenly, noticing the mess beside his desk. “It sounded like you were crying,” he mumbled, his eyes finding Logan’s again. “What happened?”

  What happened, what happened… “Nothing. I just tripped,” Logan said. “I’m sorry to worry you, darl-”

  “Don’t lie to me, Lo.”

  How do you feel, Logan?

  It was too sharp for Logan, especially from Patton and his honey voice, and he flinched, taking a step back into his room involuntarily in a staggering gait so unlike his usual stride. Patton’s eyes went wide again.

  “Logan?” the moral side gasped, “Lo, starlight, what’s wrong?”

  A fool, a jest, an idiot in disguise. His vision went spotty.

  “Logan- sit down- take my hand, moonbeam, come on-”

  His head spun, pierced with whispers all too loud for his tired mind, but he felt Patton’s hand in his, leading him somewhere his eyes were too shadowed to see. His fingers found something soft - his comforter?

  “Okay, that’s a little better- can you hear me?” Patton’s voice was soft, and trembling ever-so-slightly. It was not a hiss, not a leering song, not a jeer; it was just Patton’s voice. Logan nodded. “Good, good. Can you talk?”

  He took a shaking breath and swallowed, though his throat was dry and burned with the possibility of words. “Yes,” he managed.

  He felt Patton’s grip tighten on his hand. “Okay- can you… can you tell me what’s goin’ on, Lo?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? For what?”

  For what, for what… too many answers jumped out at him all at once. I don’t know,” he breathed, curling his free hand into a fist once more - it stung, and when he looked down, he found bright red crescents in his palm. “Everything? For worrying you- for all of this- this mess- for being an idiot-” Idiot in disguise, what a horrid ruse. His chest felt tight, filled with unshed tears and swallowed screams in the middle of the night.

  “Lo- breathe with me, ‘nilla bean,” Patton said, rubbing circles on the back of Logan’s hand, “in for four, hold for seven, out for eight- there you go- you’re not an idiot, Logan. Why do you think that?”

  Think, think, think, why do you think-

  “I’ve been having nightmares.”

  Patton’s hand froze over his. “Nightmares?” the moral side repeated after a moment, brows low over his eyes. Logan nodded.

  “They’re these- these voices, Patton, they’re like steam, and poison, and- that doesn’t even make sense-“

  “Yes, it does,” Patton assured him. “What do they say?”

  Idiot, fool, jest, broken, wrong- How do you feel, Logan?

  Patton’s eyes went sad, and Logan took a second to realize his throat hurt again - he’d said it out loud. “How long have you been having them?” Patton whispered.

  “Two weeks.”

  The moral side took in a sharp breath beside him, fingers curling around Logan’s again, as if he’d disappear without the connection. “Lo- why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I thought I could take care of it- I thought they’d go away after we met the last deadline, but they didn’t, so I thought if I kept working, they’d stop-“

  “Why would you need to keep working?”

  “To prove to them I can do my job!” he snapped.

  Regret flooded his mind a second later, and he forced another deep breath into his lungs - Patton just raised his eyebrows as he leaned back into Logan’s view, eyes shining. “Logan, honey, of course you can do your job.”

  “But what if I can’t?” Patton frowned. “What if- what if I’m not as smart as you all need me to be? What if I disappoint Thomas when it matters most? What if I let stupid, childish emotions get in the way of my performance and end up ruining everything-”

  “Logan.” He snapped his gaze to the moral side - Patton’s brow was knit, his mouth set in a tight frown. “You are not going to ruin everything. You’re scared - you have a reason to be - and fear isn’t something you have to get over by yourself.” He held an arm out, a soft smile pulling at his lips; Logan’s gaze flickered between Patton’s eyes and hand, and he let out a sigh, scooting over into his embrace and leaning against him. The tears he’d been denying for weeks finally fell, and he made no move to swipe them away.

  “You don’t have to be smart to matter to us, Lo,” Patton continued quietly, combing a hand through Logan’s hair idly. “The fact that you are is just a plus.” Logan let out a dry chuckle. “Talk to me next time, please, if there is a next time.”

  Patton’s voice was soft again, that vanilla whisper Logan was so used to, and he felt the last of the panicked fog in his mind dissipate, if only for now. “I will.”

  They fell into silence, warm and comfortable - Logan’s eyes started to drift shut, and, for the first time in weeks, he dreamed of light.

taglist: @lyre-lyre-numb-desire @dailypattondoodle (for the ANGST) @romanticsanders​ @existentialburden​ @a-little-bit-of-ace​ @anon-turtle​ @kameraishere​ @thelowlysatsuma​ @the-romantic-frypan

Edit: also tagging @broadwaytheanimatedseries and @quinintheclouds (since y’all reblogged the post about, I thought you might wanna see the promised angst lol)

[shae-and-sides]

Sunshine Boy

“Being the therapist of the group never bothered Patton, not in and of itself - but even balls of sunshine have their breaking point.”

 I saw an incorrect quote by @heckoffmate - I know the show it came from is a comedy, but I’ve been a lil stressed lately and just kinda down, so I took it as an excuse to write some mild venting and very mild Patton angst 🤷

  There was a specific feeling you got after knowing you helped someone.

  Patton couldn’t really describe it, not in a way that made other people feel it - not like how Roman could describe things, for sure - but he tried his best to explain it to himself when he thought about it: it was tingly, from the tip of his nose to his fingertips, like Pop Rocks inside him, and it made him feel like anything he touched would brim with the same buzz of life. It made him smile when he wasn’t thinking about it; he’d zone out, fly away on a daydream (Roman wasn’t the only one who got those), and when he fell back to reality, he’d feel the grin on his face, glowing and comforting. It made the room brighter, too! (He didn’t actually know if that was true, but it definitely seemed like it.)

  But most importantly, it was warm. It blossomed in his chest and rippled through the rest of him like the heat wave from an oven right after you bake a cake, and it left him humming the rest of the day. Patton just loved it.

  And he loved helping people! He knew that, he felt that every day! He loved to help his friends, and he wanted to help his family (famILY) whenever he could - not just because of the feeling he got, of course, although it was a wonderful benefit, but because he loved them. He wanted to be there for them when they needed it most, and he was happy to do it.

  So he didn’t exactly know why he felt like he would be sick at any moment.

  “He just completely ignored me!” Roman’s piercing whine prodded at Patton’s haze as the fanciful side tossed himself on the foot of his bed, a hand on his forehead like a telenovela star. He let out an elongated groan of frustration that seemed to hover in the otherwise soft silence of Patton’s room.

  “Oh, I’m sure he didn’t mean to, kiddo,” Patton soothed, shifting to Roman’s side and carding his fingers through the prince’s hair; Roman peeked through his fingers up at the fatherly side, and he slowly lowered his hand. “Maybe he just… didn’t hear you!”

  Roman squeezed his eyes shut again as he turned onto his side to drop his head in Patton’s lap.

  “I didn’t mean to be rude,” he insisted quietly, leaning into Patton’s touch. “I simply wanted to know if he was doing anything, and perhaps it came out a bit wrong.”

  Patton hummed in response, a smile tugging at his lips as he said, “Maybe calling him an emo dork wasn’t the best approach to that, yeah.”

  “I call him names all the time! I didn’t think it would bother him that much!”

  “Well, did you think that maybe he’s upset ‘cause he likes you, too?” Patton managed as he held back a laugh - it nearly escaped anyway as Roman completely froze, and his face turned bright red.

  “Do you think so?” he asked, although his voice was so far away that Patton hardly believed he expected an answer. “Oh, my, what… what if I messed up my only chance? What if that was the one moment Virgil was ready to accept a date proposal and I completely blew it- my one fleeting chance, already gone to the cruel monsoon of love?” Roman covered his face, and cried out, “Oh, Patton, what have I done?”

  “Kiddo.” Roman looked again through his fingers at him. “I’m sure you’re fine! Just make sure you apologize, and tell him what you really meant, and it’ll go great after all!”

  The prince dropped his arms, head cocked to the side and eyes tracing the air before he nodded slowly. “Alright. Alright, I can do that.” A smile burst out across his face, and he bolted up, nearly headbutting Patton in the nose. “What about flowers? Or maybe a collage! Or-”

  “Ro, try to keep it simple,” Patton interrupted before Roman could launch into another admittedly-slightly-just-a-little-bit misguided monologue. “You know Virge gets embarrassed easily; just be sincere!” Roman’s face fell, and Patton rushed to correct himself, “Though maybe one flower wouldn’t hurt!”

  The grin was back. “Yes!” The creative side was up in an instant, already charging for the door - Patton wanted to giggle, but a hollowness just carved itself into his stomach as he watched.

  “Oh, I actually…” he trailed off; Roman paused, still bouncing on his toes, a hand on the doorknob and eyebrows raised. “I was just wondering if maybe we could talk? If I could talk, I mean- just, some stuff…”

  His shoulders fell as the prince just glanced out into the hallway with a distracted “Sure.”

  “Nevermind, actually! I can work through it,” Patton said instead, his voice devoid of his characteristic energy, and yes, maybe a part of him hoped Roman would notice and understand and just take a minute to ask “are you okay?” and then Patton would be able to paste on a smile and say “yeah! Go have fun!” and be sad later by himself without feeling ignored or forgotten, and he’d know it was all on him, that it was his problem to work through.

  But Roman just nodded and zoomed into the hallway without another word.

  And Patton was left alone on the edge of his bed, his hands still hovering slightly in the air, a feeling very unlike the warmth he was used to after helping someone bleeding from his chest and into his limbs; his face felt hot as he stood and fixed his sheets in short, jerky motions, his mind crawling away from the task.

  He was annoyed. He was frustrated and upset and angry and a lot of things that he didn’t like feeling, especially not towards his family, but he felt them nonetheless and that made him even more upset.

  It wasn’t really their fault they didn’t do anything, was it? Patton didn’t really come right out and say, “I’m sad!” Why would he? That would just make them sad, and that was the last thing he wanted, so of course he mostly kept that to himself. That part didn’t bother him, not really; Logan preached a lot about the importance of communications, and though Patton readily agreed and made himself clear on his availability should the other sides ever need to vent, he felt deep down that it didn’t really apply to him. He was fine consoling himself when he needed to!

 What bothered him was that they didn’t even try. Yes, he could work through most feelings on his own - feelings were his job, for Pete’s sake! - but… he couldn’t recall the last time they asked if he was okay, or how he was at all, for that matter. How hard was it to notice a fake smile?

  Stop, he chided himself suddenly, his hands freezing around the blanket beneath them. You shouldn’t blame them. Maybe they can’t notice stuff like that- maybe you’re just really good at seeing it!

  He couldn’t force a smile onto his face.

  He shouldn’t be frustrated. He knew that, of course he knew that - it was selfish to fixate on his own feelings when the others had problems, too - but he just wanted to be cared about, to be supported in the same way he supported them!

  Was that too much to ask?

  His fingers curled around the comforter as he yanked it into place, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek, blinking quickly as pressure built up behind his eyes.

  His door swung open. “Patton, I need-”

  Logan’s voice came to a halt as he saw Patton hunched over the edge of his bed, his head bowed and fists curled around his yellow blanket; the fatherly side didn’t bother to straighten up, to wipe at his face, to greet him like nothing was wrong because something was wrong and he was getting so, so frustrated with acting otherwise.

  “Patton?” Logan said after a moment. He tilted his head to scan Patton’s face and body language, shuffling forward a few steps when the room remained silent. “Are you alright?”

  And Patton laughed; it was bitter, tinny - a dark parody of the fatherly side’s joyful giggles. “Do you care?”

  “…I beg your pardon?”

  The air was heavy as the two stood in silence, pierced only by Patton’s half-choked sniffle as Logan’s discomfort practically radiated through the room; Patton was just relieved to know the logical side acknowledged the feelings present. He stood straight and turned to Logan - his eyes were tired, his mouth a sad line as he shook his head gently as if to clear it. “I’m sorry,” he started, sitting on the edge of his mattress. “I shouldn’t… I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sorry.”

  Logan watched him with wide eyes. “There looks to be a bigger problem here,” he said slowly; Patton just stared at his hands folded in his lap, and Logan sighed, striding the rest of the distance to the bed and lowering himself onto the mattress beside Morality. “Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

  Patton didn’t respond at first, chewing on his lip. “I would love to,” he said finally - it came out a whisper, an exhale more than words. “But you wouldn’t have asked me before, would you?”

  “Before what?”

  “Before just now,” Patton snapped, but Logan didn’t move, just knit his brow, prompting the fatherly side to explain. “You wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t made it so blatant that you couldn’t ignore it.”

  Logan stayed silent.

  “I know you guys aren’t the ‘feelings’,” Patton continued hesitantly, hugging his arms around himself, “but I just… I thought it was kinda a courtesy to ask people h-how they are and if they’re okay when they seem sad, and I know maybe it’s a little dramatic, but I do act sad sometimes- I am sad sometimes! I try so hard to help you guys whenever you need it- and I don’t do it and expect a reward or anything- but it- I just-” He hiccupped as the first tear rolled down his freckled face, his eyes glistening. “You guys don’t even try and I’m so sorry if that’s mean but-”

  “Patton.”

  Patton stopped mid-sentence, his gaze snapping to Logan’s through a wall of unshed tears.

  “I don’t thoroughly understand what’s happening right now,” Logan said - Patton frowned, but he wasn’t finished. “But you’re upset… because we never ask you if you’re upset?”

  “I-” The fatherly side froze and dropped his head into his hands, a small whine escaping through his fingers. “Oh, that sounds so babyish, doesn’t it?”

  “No, no! That’s not what I was implying at all,” Logan rushed to correct himself, “it’s just- that seems quite simple.”

  “I thought so,” Patton whispered. Logan tilted his head at him, and he rushed to wipe the tears from his face and straighten up again. “Sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Patton.”

  “I didn’t mean to say that you guys are mean or careless or anything,” Patton blurted. “I really appreciate you guys, and I love helping you! I like being there for you and knowing you guys trust me, and I’m glad to be trusted. It’s just that I can get… down sometimes, and I guess it would be nice to have someone I can talk to, too, and I know that’s selfish because you guys have to deal with stuff on your own sometimes-”

  “It’s not selfish,” Logan said so suddenly that Patton jumped in his spot. “I’m sorry, it’s just- it’s not selfish to want to be listened to, Patton. You deserve a reciprocation of your support, and to think any less is simply delusional and I can assure you that it will take a toll on your health.” He paused, glancing at Patton’s tear-stained face. “Perhaps it already has.” Taking a deep breath, the logical side held out one arm and said, “I can’t speak for Roman and Virgil, but I… I’m sorry, Patton. Quite often, you’ve given off a rather sunshiney disposition, and I don’t always understand how to approach emotional situations- that’s no excuse, of course, but I hope you can forgive me.”

   Patton’s eyes fell to Logan’s outstretched arm, a puzzled look in his gaze until he seemed to understand; a giggle escaped his chest through the tears as he scooted closer to the logical side, leaning into his side - Logan did his best to imitate the hugs he watched Patton and Virgil share so often as he wrapped the arm around him.

  “Is this alright?” he asked after a moment, his voice small.

  Patton took a breath - Logan smelled surprisingly like vanilla - and let his eyes close, sinking into the comforting touch, awkward as it was.

  “This is perfect.”