#Emilepicani

[shortprince-cos]

First post, here we go! Today we have an outfit inspired by #emilepicani from #cartoontherapy ! Feat: an UP shirt, pink suspenders, bowtie, undershirt, and bow, polka dot pants, and round glasses! https://www.instagram.com/p/CJRW3V6HM-k/?igshid=13dkmojw1vr0w

[ashleymoon45]

✨☕🌸 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎✨☕🌸 𝐀𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝: ➳𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐭 ➳𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐲 ➳𝐓𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝗼𝐧 𝐩𝐡𝗼𝐭𝗼(𝐢 𝗼𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞) ➳𝐊𝐎𝐃𝐀 ➳𝐀𝐋𝗼𝗼𝐤 ➳𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐲: 𝐌𝐞 ☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁ 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @xxmulti_setsunaxx ☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁ #sanderssides #remysanders #emilepicani #remile #pattonsanders #logansanders #virgilsanderssides #romansanders #remussanders #deceitsanders #thomassanders #remileedit #edits https://www.instagram.com/p/CMfMGwvBqas/?igshid=1h36ez22i5viz

[royalwinternation]

Very out of character for them, except Janus #sanderssides #sanderssidesincorrectquotes #virgilsanders #remysanders #emilepicani #janussanders https://www.instagram.com/p/CRzpuISCnLL/?utm_medium=tumblr

[thedukedudeinadress]

Sanders Sides as Falsettos Quotes (Part Nine)

Emile to Virgil: Everyone hates his parents! Now, I see why! But in time, they'll cool out and you'll think they were only fooling! It's a strange thing about parents, push turns to shove, what was hate, becomes more or less love

Patton and Janus: Virgil, please see a psychiatrist

Emile: I'm a psychiatrist, get lost!

[hatterflii]

Final remile historical fanfic piece

Yet another gore warning for this part. To check out all of the previous pieces, they should be on my page. I might link them together later Or create a masterpost

“Left,” Remy grunted, shifting more of his weight onto the shorter man. Emil obliged, turning the pair left onto a slightly cleaner street. Cats hunted  rats, peasants stood outside various homes, and children chased each other with bright smiles. The street held shops with colourful images meant to draw in customers, though not many customers came in this early. Emil looked around at the shops, boots, blankets, and- “Ah, the blacksmith! We turn right here, correct?” Remy nodded as Emil turned onto a small drive. The alleyway held many dead animals, and as the shorter man hobbled through the street, he could feel the beady eyes of tiny creatures on him. Door by door, the homes became smaller and darker. When they reached the fifth door, Remy stopped them. “Here,” Remy grumbled, “Home sweet home.” He pushed open the small door, revealing a crowded living space. The single room contained a bed, a desk, a bucket to the side of the room, and a bookshelf partially filled with worn-down manuscripts. The doctor took a wary step into the cramped home, not used to such small living spaces, and swivelled his head around to observe the space. Gently, he set the tall man down onto the creaky bed, letting go of his slim waist. “A lovely place you have here! Too bad I must be going, come again to the hospital if you ever need my assistance.” He gave a final smile to the sick man, walking to the door and closing it tight.

thats a wrap! Let me know if you would ever want me to continue this ancient thingy

[witchy-lili]

Sander Sides Coffeeshop AU! Part 3 (or whatever-)

Do you guys believe me if I tell you this hell of an au actually has a storyline- no ? neither do I. Sorry for the short chapter, my adhd is acting up really bad and I cAN’T FOCUS-  --------------------------------- 6:30am. Finally. He was back home. The night was indeed, very long. The bar got very busy with Roman’s performance, so busy that he even missed Janus’s constant chatter. He was annoying and malicious, but Logan could not ignore the fact that he was, indeed, really cultivated. Often quoting philosophers, with interesting subjects to discuss and surprisingly knew a lot about the different types of tea and botanics in general, along with an absolute metric ton for chemistry, which kinda intrigued the barista, being a science and biology major. The melon hat man, unfortunately called it a night after only a couple hours into their discussion after giving a quick glance at his phone and claiming that he “had to be home or the kids would be worried”. By that time, Roman had already left to get some beauty sleep, as he always said. 

Logan let himself fall on the bed after putting his glasses on the table, slowly closing his eyes to finally join the dream world… ….If his alarm didn’t decide otherwise.

A tired groan left his throat as he tried to ignore the noise, until a wet scratchy thing rubbed against his nose. Apparently Plato didn’t like his breakfast being delayed, and the little kisses were just a nice way of saying “feed me human or your soul will never see the light of day”.

-Okay okay you fluffy son of bitch…

He always got a bit more crude when he was tired, being the type to avoid cursing, just to appear sympathetic. After a few stretches, Logan stood up to fill up the cat’s bowl before changing into his “morning clothes”, throwing the others in the washing machine. He tried to wake himself up a bit more by washing his pale face in cold water. A few checks here in there to make sure everything was alright, and he was on his way for a brand new day in his dear cafe.

Two cups of coffee. Two freaking cups of coffee and he still felt incredibly tired. The place was not really busy right now, fortunately enough but the extremely feline yawn he let out still managed to steal a small chuckle from the client he was serving, noticing that he was on the verge of overflowing the tea cup. A few drops fell on the wooden table and were quickly wiped out by the barista. -Well well Auriga, looks like someone here didn’t get a full night of sleep.

Doctor Emile Picani was the name of this regular client. He was the very soft type, always complimenting everyone, generously tipping Logan and just overall being the beloved and friendly psychologist.  

-Is it that obvious Doctor.. -I already told you ! E-m-i-l-e ! You’ve been serving me the same freaking order for four years ! I think that’s enough for a first name basis.

-Says the one who just called me “Auriga”.

-What can i do “bro” ? I find your name pretty. All that aside, you should really get some rest Logan, you’re giving me more casper than human vibes. And that’s a really big oof.

-Is this your cartoon lingo or are you trying to sound young and modern ?

-A bit of both ! How am i doing ?

-Horrible. This took a chuckle out of the two before Logan returned behind the bar after serving a few more clients to drink start on his third cup of coffee. The moment he brought the mug to his lips, the cafe’s bell chimed, revealing a soaked man from the rain, a bit shivering under his leather jacket that he couldn’t just close -what can you do ? Fashion is just more important than comfort-. He took off his wet sunglasses to dry them off before putting them back and walked to the counter without even caring about wiping his soaked, muddy boots on the carpet planned for that, which earned him a few dirty looks from the dear Mr.Auriga. Before even being able to greet him, the newcomer slammed a plastic reusable tall cup in front of him before saying in a tired, cranky voice.

-Can you fill this venti cup with espresso ?

-..I-I, I beg your pardon. -A venti cup. With espresso. Can you do that hun ?

That was twenty ounces of strong coffee. Logan suddenly got a concerned and kinda alarmed look on his face and shook his head. -I don’t really, quite know how to count that-

-Sis’...just fill the cup, I don't care about the price. Count it as three regular ones or charge me the supplement in shots.

-...Yikes. Who hurt you ? -Life.

This made him let a quiet giggle out before taking the cup and making his drink and silently pitying his heart rate. Upon closer inspection, the “venti cup” was from Starbucks. He could even see a name written on it with a thick glittery acrylic sharpie. “Remy”. Once the blood pressure heightener completed, the man in sunglasses took a large sip from the straw, exhaling loudly.

-You are, literally my life savior right now sweetie, you can’t even imagine.

-Rough night ?

-Yeah, i can say that. Plus my boss is a total bitch, like he really needs a chill pill.

Accompanying those words, Remy’s phone chimed and Logan could clearly see him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses upon seeing the contact on the screen.

-Speaking of the devil. Yeah Remy there ?...Well i'm taking my morning coffee y’know i can’t get going without it….Duh ! i KNOW the Star’s is closed, i'm in a random cosy coffee shop….Honeeeey, pretty sure you see that rain, i ain’t going back. Move your bubble butt and come pick me up...Where am I ? Uuuh, bitch legit i don’t know, like, y’know my sense of direction is effed up...it’s a bit outside the city aaaand, hem, there’s a lot of blue, and the barista’s cute...Ah and yeah it’s called “Blue’s”, just saw it, like, right now...yeah, want me to grab ya something ?...aw don’t be cranky ya sound like an old man...sorry not sorry babe im just sayin’ the truth ! Anyway byeeee.

The “barista” raised a curious eyebrow before brushing it off as Remy hung up, sighing loudly.

-Jesus, this man doesn't know when to take a breather !

-Heard that.

-You’re not much of a talker are ya ? What’s your name cutie ? “The barista” sounds kinda lame.

-It’s on my badge.

-Ah yeah, Logan, sounds so basic but im in !  

What a singular strange character. The whiplash he got from just having a ten seconds conversation with him was stronger than any coffee. He wondered what kind of mentally functioning human would accept the insolence and the nature of that individual. The boss was maybe really patient or Remy was just so good at his job they couldn't give him up. His questions were answered when a tall, well dressed man with a melon hat walked in, a few minutes later, for the most remarkable trait, a giant red scar on the right side of his face. Was that a burn ? It couldn’t be anything else. He knew this man.

-Well. Hello again Logan.

-Janny ? You know him ?

-Less than i’d like to. But yes.

Looks like the snake was back. ------------------------------------ Eyyyy Picani and my fave bitch are there

[virgil-sister-luna]

Please Don't Hurt Me | Sanders Sides | LAMP - Chapter One (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/HayvhBOrv8 Neko's are pets. They are like slaves, they must do whatever their masters says. Wear what they say, eat what they say, anything. They have no rights. Owned neko's must have a collar with your name and address. You can abuse them and not get arrested. Some people are against it, including Logan, Patton, and Roman. Virgil, a neko, is owned by Deceit. The man would abuse Virgil in many ways. The poor boy was absolutely miserable. One night however, he manged to escape into the night after finally ripping off his collar and locking his master in the basement. He didn't get far, and ended up passing out in the backyard of Patton, Logan, and Roman's house. !!!NEW CHAPTER EVERY SATURDAY UNLESS SAID OTHERWISE!!! __________________________________________ Cover by: Malc(?)

[saffidaffi]

sanders sides as random pictures i have saved on my phone

here we fuckin go

logan: 

patton:

roman: 

virgil: 

janus:

remus:

remy:

emile:

[batskulldrag]

Phoenix by Fallout Boy

here’s chapter fourteen, sorry for dropping off the grid

Trigger warnings for anxiety attacks and panic attacks. As well as abuse mentions

Also innacurate representation of a court of law. I pieced this together from all my research. But it’s probably wrong

Chapter Fourteen: Burn from the Hamilton soundtrack

 Patton buttoned the last button on his suit jacket. The deafening silence was not helping his nerves. He glanced over to Logan who was pacing dazedly from one side of their room to the other.  

“I haven’t worn this since my last job interview.” Patton added to the void. “I’m surprised it still fits. I’ve had a lot of cookies since then.”

“What?” Logan stopped walking and looked over as if he had been snapped out of a trance.

“I was just trying to joke.” Patton dismissed it. “Are you ok?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re stimming.”

“My pacing has nothing to do with Asperger’s.” Logan said quickly and unconvincingly.

“I’m scared too.” Patton looked at his shoes. “Not only does Payton have a lawyer, but he is one!”

“So? He can’t alter reality.” Logan shrugged. “And we have all the evidence. We can stop him from so much as looking at a picture of Virgil ever again.”

“I guess.”

“And I know.” Logan walked over and untied Patton’s tie. “Who taught you how to tie a tie?”

“I never learned how. I was busy and my hands were tied.” Patton smiled.

“I’ll let you have that one.” Logan sighed, retying the tie.

They were interrupted by Virgil screaming. They both sprinted over to him, and Patton burst inside.

Virgil was on the floor beside his bed staring at his arms in horror. Both arms, his face and neck were pink and covered with hives.

“I’ve been nuked!” Virgil yelled in dismay.

“It’s ok.” Patton said more out of instinct than optimism as he ran to Virgil’s side. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Virgil, do the hives itch?” Logan asked, kneeling across from him.

“Yeah?” Virgil replied, confused. “What are they? Am I gonna die?”

“If I had to guess I’d say they were stress induced.” Logan felt his forehead.

“I can’t show up to court looking like this!” Virgil gestured at himself. “They’ll assume stuff!”

“What will they assume?” Logan asked seriously.

“I don’t know! They’ll assume that I’m too stressed out here or something.”

“It’s ok sweetie.” Patton cooed, stroking his hair. “They’re not gonna jump to conclusions.”

“He’s right.” Logan continued. “The only assumption they are going to make is that a young man, who was diagnosed with severe anxiety, is having a reaction to the stress involved in testifying in court.”

“How can you be so sure?” Patton could feel Virgil’s heart pounding.

“I can’t. And I’m not asking you to trust the court, I’m asking you to trust us. We’re not going to let Payton get his hands on you ever again.”

“Sure, but there are limits to what you can actually do about this.” Virgil’s breaths started getting shorter.  

“And everything is in our favor.”

“He’s going to deny everything, he’s going to lie about you! He’s not just going to let this slide!”

“I know.” Logan pushed Virgil’s bangs back. “But he’s already been outed as a liar. And no one is going to believe his hearsay arguments so easily. Maybe people are inclined to believe the adult, but nobody believes the liar.”

“But we don’t know what he has up his sleeves.”

“Prison tattoos probably.” Patton chimed in bitterly.

“Payton had better have the infinity gauntlet under there if he wants to win.” Roman said from the doorway.

“How long have you been there?” Logan turned around suddenly

“I heard Virgil scream too.” Roman rolled his eyes. “I just didn’t have anything to add until now.”

“We’re going to find out that you’re just a ghost that haunts this place, aren’t we?” Virgil added.

“That’s the spirit.” Patton impulsively took the opportunity for a dad joke.

“Virgil.” Roman ignored Patton. “I have plenty of make up if you wish to cover up those irritants.”

“No.” Logan interrupted. “Make up would worsen the irritation.”

“I have baby lotion.” Patton smoothed Virgil’s hair back.

“Why?” Virgil looked dismayed.

                                                               #             #             #

“Boop.” Patton enunciated as he smudged a bit of lotion on Virgil’s nose.

Virgil didn’t seem too impressed with that. He just sighed and looked at his arms.

“Ok, Virgil, drink this and then I’ll give you one of your pills.” Logan added, placing a mug of warm milk in front of him.

“What’s this supposed to do?” Virgil asked skeptically.

“It’s supposed to settle your stomach and relax you.” Logan felt his forehead. “Given your history of throwing up when you’re stressed, I don’t want you eating anything heavy. But you shouldn’t be taking your tranquilizers on an empty stomach. And milk, especially warm milk is known to have calming properties.”

“Do you think I need one of the sedatives?” Virgil added, taking a sip of the milk.

“You did kinda break out because of stress, Kiddo.” Patton set the lotion down. “And you’re doing a pretty scary thing today.”

Virgil rested his head on the table and Patton started petting his hair.

“You can still change your mind at any time.” Logan added, putting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I can’t just duck out at the last minute.” Virgil mumbled.

“Quack.” Patton added, looking down at his anxious little baby hopefully.

Virgil didn’t even crack a smile.

“I’m gonna do this even if it’s the last thing I ever do.” Virgil sat up with determination.

“Ok.” Patton wrapped his arms around him. “But you don’t have to. Ok? You don’t need to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

“I know.”

“Do you wanna take your bear with you? Or your hoodie? You know, to make you more comfortable.”

“I don’t need a security blanket.” Virgil looked disgusted at the thought. “Can you imagine? If Payton saw me walk up to the stand with a fricking teddy bear, he’d drop his bullshit and start reaming me out right there. I don’t wanna see that.”

“He’d lose the case in an instant though.” Roman added. “It is normally considered bad form to abuse your child in the middle of a custody battle.”

“That’s a valid point.” Logan somehow agreed with Roman. “Payton is completely incapable of hurting you anymore. His hands are tied.”

“Metaphorically?” Virgil looked up at him.

“No, they had him in hand cuffs last time I saw him.”

Virgil laughed at the idea.

“Ok, Kiddo.” Patton kissed him on the forehead. “You go get dressed. And I promise that everything is gonna be ok from now on.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I just can.”

                                                               #             #             #

The courtroom looked exactly like every court room from TV. Patton looked into the gallery and saw several strangers. Roman veered off from them and sat in the gallery as well. He shot them a thumbs up.

“Why are there a bunch of people here?” He quickly whispered to Logan as they sat down at their weird table.

“Most trials are open to the public.” Logan explained. “People can just walk in and sit down.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t know. Trials are open to the public barring a specific order from the judge. It’s in accordance with the sixth amendment, a fair and public trial.”

“I don’t know any of those words.” Virgil shuddered from between them.

Logan silently checked Virgil’s pulse and felt his forehead.

“Am I gonna live?” Virgil said flatly.

“Very funny.” Logan sighed. “In half an hour you can have another pill. If you feel like you’re going to have an attack tell one of us.”

“And if you feel like you need to take a break, just say so and we’ll tell the judge.” Patton rubbed his shoulder.

“And deny the spectators such an epic show?” Virgil sneered.

“Never mind them.” Patton shushed.

Virgil dropped his annoyed expression and stared across the room in numb horror. Despite his rash his face went pale and he started panting and wheezing.

“He’s here.” Virgil squeaked.

“Shh,” Patton wrapped himself around Virgil like a shield, making sure to block his line of sight. “It’s ok, he can’t hurt you. Don’t look at him. Just don’t look. He can’t do anything.”

Logan made eye contact with Payton and stared back at him with a blank face. Payton’s empty eyes were no match for the cold stoicism that Logan wore so well. This mere lawyer had no clue how to intimidate him, nor anyone else that realized that he had no power over them. Payton didn’t look away though, he had a lot of arrogance for a man with no real control, no real power, no permanent impact. Foolish sociopath.

“All arise.” The bailiff ended their staring contest. “The honorable Jack Douglass Presiding.”

Patton continued to insinuate himself between Payton and Virgil as they all stood to attention. Familial attachment was flaking off of his conscience like an old sunburn. The idea that Payton didn’t want to be his friend started to harden him rather than hurt anymore. All that he really felt was the determination to make sure that no one threatened his baby ever again. And if Payton thought he was going to sit over there and shoot death glares at an innocent kid, then he needed to get used to disappointment and fast.

“Thank you, bailiff.” The judge snapped him back into the room. “You may be seated.”

The crowd sat down on command. It was kind of impressive.

“Mr. Pent.” The Judge looked at Janus “Yesterday I asked you if you were really going through with this. I’m going to ask again.”

“The defendant is insistent on having this out in court your honor.” Janus answered professionally.

“Is this correct?” The judge looked at Payton and his lawyer.

“It is your honor.” The lawyer answered.

“Alright,” The judge replied. “Proceed with your case. Why do believe Mr. Foster to be an unfit parent?”

“We have documented evidence of both physical and emotional abuse as well as neglect.” Janus pulled out a folder.

“Interesting.” The judge looked at Payton. “Mr. Foster, how do you respond to these allegations?”

“The claims against me are completely fabricated.” Payton said coldly. “I have never laid a hand on my son, nor have I abused him emotionally.”

“Why would your brother make up something like this?” The judge countered.

“I assure you. I have no idea.”

“Let’s see your evidence.” The judge, his honor? Turned back to them.

“I have with me a portion of the fire chief’s report from Mr. Foster’s home.” Janus read. “It states that Virgil’s bedroom had no door, which caused the fire to spread to his room much quicker than normal, and that his window was nailed shut.”

“Mr. Pent,” His honor looked annoyed. “Do you have children?”

“I do not your honor.”

“Did you have a window when you were a teenager?”

“Yes, your honor.” Janus was somehow playing this straight.

“Mr. Foster,” His honor turned to him.

“Yes sir, I mean your honor?”

“Since staying with you, has Virgil had access to a functional window?”

“Yes, your honor.” Patton shook, he had no idea what was happening.

“How about a door, does he have a door?”

“Yes. Your honor.”

“Mr. Pent, how about you? Did you have a door when you were a teenager?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Mr. Foster,” The judge turned. “When you were Virgil’s age, did you have a functional window?”

“Yes, your honor.” Payton seemed confused as well.

“How about a door?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Why is it that your son has neither of those things?”

“Virgil was in the habit of bringing friends over uninvited and sneaking out at night, I removed the door and sealed the window to prevent this.”

None of the three had it in them to be surprised by this anymore. They barely had it in them to be disappointed.

“Firstly, taking off the door won’t prevent any of that.” His honor retorted. “Secondly, he nearly died in a fire because you nailed his window shut. You’re either abusive or stupid.”

“Your honor.” Payton’s lawyer added. “Neither of these examples indicate abuse, making the evidence irrelevant.”

“That is fair, he could just be stupid.” His honor nodded. “Unfortunately, that kind of ignorant endangerment is still grounds to call him an unfit parent.”  

Patton saw Payton’s eye twitch, it must have been killing him that his current defense was ‘please, I’m very stupid’.

“Mr. Pent,” Judge Douglass turned to Janus “Give me something more relevant to your case.”

“Here we have documented images of the bruises Virgil sustained, and several hospital records detailing various injuries.” Janus held out the folder and the bailiff took it to the judge.

The judge looked over the documents quietly and stoically.

“Virgil,” His honor looked up. “You’re planning to testify as a witness, correct?”

“Yes…Your honor.” Virgil grabbed Patton’s hand.

“Ok, why don’t you come on up?”

“Yes sir. I mean your honor.” Virgil stood up and looked at Patton desperately.

“It’s ok, just don’t look at him.” Patton whispered, rubbing Virgil’s hand.

The bailiff took Virgil up to the box and they swore him in. The poor baby was visibly shaking.

“So, Virgil.” Judge Douglass was surprisingly gentle. “I’m going to start by asking you why your window was nailed shut.”

“Payton, my dad, told me he didn’t trust me to not sneak out.” Virgil said frankly. “So, he nailed the window shut. The door was a different thing entirely.”

“Well, what was the door about?”

“He found a journal that I was keeping for a class when I was about eight.” Virgil tensely rubbed his arm. “And he got mad at me for keeping things from him while also telling my teacher things that were none of their business.”

“If I may, your honor.” Payton’s lawyer added. “This is not relevant, nor does it prove abuse.”

“I disagree,” Janus argued. “It is important we know why Payton felt that there were aspects of their home life that were meant to be hidden.”

“In that case, maybe we should ask what secrets Virgil was willing to share with his teacher and not his father.” Payton’s lawyer countered.

“Absolutely.” Jan agreed. “Virgil, what exactly were you writing about?”

“I was eight.” Virgil looked around uncomfortably. “I mostly just drew pictures. I had maybe two passages about how my dad made fun of me whenever I wet the bed. and the rest was dedicated to talking about the Goosebumps series. I wasn’t allowed to read them, so I always figured that was why Payton was mad at me.”

“Taking the door off is kind of an extreme reaction.” Judge Douglass stated blankly.

“Excuse me, your honor.” Patton added timidly.

“Yes, Mr. Foster?”

“How would Payton know what Virgil was writing about unless he read the journal?”

“We’re just wasting time with this.” Payton interrupted. “Nothing I’ve been accused of so far is child abuse, in fact I admitted to removing the door. Because Virgil and I were having some trust issues, with just cause. And none of that is illegal.”

Payton made direct eye contact with Virgil while he was talking, and much to everyone’s surprise Virgil stared right back at him.

“Alright.” His honor stared at all of them. “Let’s move on to the allegations of physical abuse.”

Virgil bit his nails and pulled at his tie.

“Let’s start with how Virgil managed to get a perfect belt buckle mark on his back.” His honor’s eyes scalded anyone who looked directly into them.

“A question I have been wanting answers to as well.” Payton glared at Virgil.

“You mean to tell me that you don’t know how that got there?” His honor almost seemed to laugh at Payton.

“I can only speculate that Virgil bruised himself to frame me for abuse or that my brother put those marks there to further his own agenda.”

“And what agenda is that?” His honor spat.

“Since last month Patton has started a campaign to discredit me, starting by accusing me of lying about my past. I have no doubt that once he learned my son was in the hospital, he decided that the best way to ruin me was to accuse me of abuse.”

“Why?” The judge asked leadingly.

“I have no idea why. Perhaps because I managed to make something of myself while he’s still living in the house we grew up in.”

“You’re a member of the one profession that everyone hates.” Judge Douglass retorted. “You know what everyone told me about going to law school? They said don’t. As far as I’m concerned you made a mistake by pursuing law. Maybe other people are impressed, but I’m not.”

Payton looked like someone had slapped him.

“And the bruise in question was a month old when Mr. Foster was given physical custody of Virgil.” Janus pointed out. “At that time Virgil had no contact with anyone without his father knowing about it. In fact, by Mr. Foster’s own admittance Virgil had no secrets from him and no way of doing anything without his knowledge.”

“With all due respect, your honor.” Payton’s lawyer commented. “This only clears Mr. Foster from having caused that bruise. Virgil could have very well done it himself or received it at school.”

“Virgil,” The judge went gentle again. “Can you explain how you got this bruise?”

“Don’t bother asking him, we know what he’s going to say.” Payton snapped.

“When I want to hear from you, I’ll call you.” Judge Douglass pointed the little hammer at him. “Virgil, answer whenever you feel ready.”

Virgil looked as if he were about to be hit by a train. He shook his head and blinked repeatedly.

“Payton and I were arguing, and he grabbed one of my belts off a chair or something…” Virgil inhaled sharply through his teeth. “And he hit me with it.”

“Did he do that a lot?”

Virgil gagged and slumped back into his seat, breathing hard.

“May I have some water?” Virgil whispered.

“Of course.” Judge Douglass said gently. “Bailiff, could you bring him some water?”

“Your honor,” Payton interrupted. “With all due respect, you’re not really going to humor him, are you?”

“I’m interested in what you mean by humoring him.” Judge Douglass looked down at him.

“Humoring him in his so called ‘anxiety attacks’. He only uses them as an excuse, and now he’s using it as a pity ploy.”

“I’m really not.” Virgil panted, looking like he was going to faint.

The bailiff brought Virgil a bottle of water. He fumbled opening it. Patton started to stand up only for Logan to pull him back down.

“Are you feeling better?” Judge Douglass addressed Virgil.

Virgil nodded.

“Mr. Foster. The older Mr. Foster.” The judge turned again. “Virgil has been diagnosed with severe anxiety by two doctors and is suspected to have PTSD. The fact that you deny this is concerning.”

“Your honor, this disorder is merely him being overly dramatic.”

“Doctors would disagree.”

“Of course, they would, their entire business is based on humoring these people so they can take advantage. No doctor benefits from Virgil acting his age instead of behaving like a toddler.”

“Virgil.” The judge ignored Payton. “Did your father hit you often?”  

“Not very often.” Virgil inhaled sharply. “Just when he lost his temper. Like if I argued with him or if I got bad grades. He, he, uh. He normally just grabbed my wrists. And kind of, squeezed them really hard. Sometimes he dug his nails in, but he didn’t like to leave marks on a body part that couldn’t be covered up that easy.”

Patton quietly rubbed his own wrist, phantom pains returning.

“Do you have a clear recollection of when the hitting started?”

“Payton started hitting me when I was around ten.” Virgil squeezed the bottle, crackling the plastic. “I don’t really remember why he started. I just remember that he slapped me one time. And then he never stopped.”

“What do you say, Mr. Foster?”

“I maintain my innocence.” Payton said harshly. “Even if you they can prove that Virgil was injured, they cannot prove that I was the one who injured him. Which I was not.”

“Virgil says differently.” The judge countered.

“Virgil is thirteen! He’s a child, and most likely has been coerced into testifying against me.”

“That so?”

“Yes.”

“Really, because so far, he not only says you hit him, but is saying why you thought it was ok to hit him all those times. The only case that is falling apart here is yours.”

A cold silence hung over them.

“Mr. Pent, please continue.” His honor sighed.

“Certainly, your honor.” Janus didn’t blink. “I would like to call the court’s attention an event on the fifteenth of August that led to Virgil being hospitalized. The official claim was that he fell down the stairs, but his injuries suggest repeated blows, inconsistent with a fall. There is also the fact that the defendant claimed at the time that Virgil was morphine intolerant, while recent tests proved that Virgil has no such allergy.”

“Mr. Foster, would you care to explain that?” Judge Douglass asked.

“The official reports say that Virgil fell down the stairs because he fell down the stairs.” Payton insisted. “His doctors didn’t feel the need to interrogate me at the time. Which is telling of this case’s validity.”

“And Virgil,” Judge Douglass asked softly. “What do you say happened?”

Virgil inhaled tensely and closed his eyes quickly. Tears leaked out.

“I got held back in school.” Virgil exhaled. “Payton yelled at me the whole ride home. When we got inside, he slapped me. And… and… he just started hitting me. I don’t remember much, but I do know he threw me down the stairs.”

Virgil wiped away tears with a shaking hand.

“Ok, why don’t you go back and sit with your uncles?” Judge Douglass said gently.

The bailiff brought Virgil back to them and Patton instantly took him into his arms.

“Now, as to Virgil’s supposed morphine allergy?” The judge asked.

“I may have suggested the allergy in error.” Payton said. “I thought he was intolerant because both me and his mother are.”

“Medical records from your family disagree.” Janus argued. “Your mother received a good deal of morphine while she was ill. Patton was on several morphine related opioids after an accident that ruined his teeth. And you yourself received morphine during a surgery. Not only that but, Hazel Drake, Virgil’s mother, has no such allergy listed either. Records also show that Virgil had never been tested for this intolerance prior to his so-called fall down the stairs. So, you would truly have no way of knowing if he had an allergy or not.”

Payton had nothing to say. Patton and Logan breathed a sigh of relief. Virgil looked at them nervously. He was chewing on his sleeve. They each took one of his hands.

“Virgil has also been diagnosed with both severe anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder since his stay in the hospital.” Janus continued, looking like a cobra about to strike. “So, I would like to call Dr. Emile Picani to the stand.”

Dr. Picani walked professionally to the stand and was sworn in.

“Dr. Picani, what was your diagnosis of Virgil Foster?” Janus asked coolly.

“Virgil is suffering from severe anxiety due to an extremely stressful home life and post-traumatic stress disorder resulting from physical and emotional abuse.” Emile began. “Over the course of our sessions I learned that Virgil had been wetting the bed throughout his entire childhood and up until now.”

Payton scoffed; it was clear that he didn’t think anyone would hear him. But all eyes turned in his direction.

“A very telling sign of emotional abuse.” Emile continued, ignoring Payton. “Virgil also reported daily panic or anxiety attacks, night terrors and a complete loss of appetite. The fact that he hadn’t been eating was obvious when he was admitted because he was roughly twenty pounds underweight.”

“Did Virgil mention any instances of abuse in any session?” Janus led.

“He told me that if he would wet the bed, his father would mock him severely. He also mentioned one instance, which we talked about earlier, when he tried to defend himself to his father and was hit with a belt.”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Payton’s lawyer stood up. “Dr. Picani is only repeating something he heard during this trial. There is no proof that Virgil told him this in therapy.”

“Overruled.” His Honor retorted. “The evidence that Virgil is suffering mentally still remains.”  

“Your Honor.” Payton’s lawyer continued. “Virgil’s bed wetting could be a result of being rehomed after the arrest of his father.”

“We already established that it had been happening for a long time before that.” Janus said smoothly.

Janus moved gracefully, almost as if he was slithering.

“In that case.” Payton’s lawyer argued. “it could be the result of a learning disability or a ploy for attention.”

“Dr. Picani,” Janus looked back to the stand waving a gloved hand. “What such disabilities would cause bed wetting at this late an age?”

Virgil looked down and covered his face with his hands. Patton noticed that his ears were turning red.

“It’s ok, Honey.” Patton whispered, petting him tenderly. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Any disability that would cause bed wetting for this long would be apparent in other aspects.” Emile answers. “Low functioning autism, severe Down Syndrome or Locked-In Syndrome to name a few. Virgil clearly has none of these. And the bed wetting gets worse when he’s stressed out. I can guarantee that it’s not an attention ploy because prior to receiving therapy Virgil was avoiding fluids altogether so he wouldn’t wet the bed. This led to him being severely dehydrated when he was admitted.”  

“Anything else?” Judge Douglass asked the room.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Payton’s lawyer continued. “Dr. Picani only has Virgil’s word that he had been having panic attacks or anxiety attacks regularly. The same goes with the night terrors.”

“Virgil nearly had a panic attack while he was testifying.” His Honor said deadpan. “And showed clear signs of having an anxiety disorder. As for the night terrors…”

He turned to Patton and Logan.

“Mr. Foster, Mr. Berry, has Virgil had any night terrors since staying with you?”

“Yes, your honor.” Logan nodded calmly. “He has had both night terrors and nightmares almost regularly. Both those and the bed wetting have decreased with anti-anxiety medicine, therapy and a less stressful environment.”

“Objection.” Payton argued. “We only have their word that Virgil has had such episodes. And there is serious doubt as to Mr. Berry’s credibility.”

“Why is that?” The judge asked.

“He is on the Autistic spectrum.”

“Mr. Pent, have you presented all the facts for your case against the defendant?” Judge Douglass looked to Janus.

“I have evidence to suggest neglect.” Janus added, coldly. “But I’ll make it quick.”

“Do it then.”

“Virgil was diagnosed with Strep throat when he was admitted. He had a severe case, due to not seeing a doctor about it. As Virgil’s guardian, Payton Foster would be responsible for taking him to a doctor, but it was revealed that Virgil had dealt with the illness for ten days. Virgil was also twenty pounds underweight. His father would have noticed this but did nothing. We also know that Mr. Foster, the defendant, denied his son pain killers based on an assumption of an allergy that he had never been tested for. There is also Virgil’s window being nailed shut and the fact that Mr. Foster, the defendant, had no smoke detectors in his home. Which led to Virgil’s nearly being killed in a fire. We also established that Virgil had a bedwetting problem that his father never sought medical advice for, and potentially mocked him for. Even if you doubt abuse, you cannot deny that gross negligence was at play.”  

“Alright.” His Honor nodded. “Mr. Foster, you may present your case.”    

[writingpromptsforsanderssides]

#sanderssides #thomassanders #writingpromptsforsanderssides #emile #drpicani #dremilepicani #emilepicani #remile https://www.instagram.com/p/B_NLDV_nH54/?igshid=b7cdabnheifi

[just-my-interpretation]

Émile knows exactly how to get Remy to stay. #Remile #emilepicani #remysanders #sleep #thomassanders #cartoontherapy #emilepicanicosplay #remycosplay https://www.instagram.com/p/B-skCVonI2o/?igshid=17iflom0o2ewb

[sleepandcoffeeking]

Remus: An apple a day, keeps the doctor away!

Remus: *Yeets an apple at Emile*

Emile:

Emile, throwing it back harder: An apple keeps anyone away if you throw it hard enough.

[ashleymoon45]

Logannnnnn OwO App that i used: ☕ Pics art ☕Ibis paint X ☕Polarr ☕spinly #logansanders #logicsanders #logansandersedits #thomassanders #sanderssides #romansanders #pattonsanders #remussanders #virgilsanders #deceitsanders #remysanders #emilepicani #fandersgrp #fanders #editor #edits #edit #aesthetic #aestheticedits https://www.instagram.com/p/CRPCAXQi65V/?utm_medium=tumblr

[nymphaeasage]

"Serious Picani... ACTIVATE!" [Or... nah. XD]

📸: @stormee.jpg

— https://www.instagram.com/p/ByEaH3NHzM2/?igshid=hko7p7e6on3x

[keard-camez]

The first of my Good Omens AU wherein the angel Pathos and the demon Virgil attempt to locate Thomas the antichrist. Please give me some constructive criticisms on my art, as I always look to improve!

Coming soon:

Petty Demon, Ethan J Virgil

Witch Descendent, Roman Device

Witch Hunter, Logan Pulsifer

Antichrist, Thomas Sanders

Archangel, Emile

Annoyed Demon, Remy

And More

[hatterflii]

Another historical remile fanfictoon piece

Another potential gore and sickness warning.

“There! You should be good to go. May I show you out the door?” he glanced at the door, soon realizing that, all too soon, the sun had now set. The doctor frowned upon remembering the state of his late patient, pondering on what he should do with the somewhat immobile man, “Well,” he chuckled, “it seems to have gotten dark fast. How would you enjoy staying here for tonight? I would not want you stumbling home through the dark.” Remy looked up from his blood-soaked arm, a wide grin on his face. “Really? oh thank goodness, I’ve got no clue how I would’ve gotten back this late. Thank you, Emil, thank you!” He dove in to embrace Emil, but he flinched away with an awkward smile, “Now now, I do not want to get the plague either.” Remy gave a pout, crawling backwards to lay his head on the pillows. Emil gently patted his shoulder, “If you need anything, I will be up those stairs,” he gestured to a flight of stairs, “Just give a holler if you need me, I will be sure to hear.” the sickling hummed to confirm, closing his reddened eyes. “Sleep well, Remy,” Emil whispered, blowing out the candlelight, “may you have sweet dreams.” Remy woke from a cold sweat, drenched in his perspiration. He took a deep breath, which he would soon regret, as he spiralled into a hacking cough. Blood trickled from his chapped lips, dark blotches landing on the unfamiliar sheets underneath him. That was new. Last night came back to him, the horrible walk, the kind doctor and the odd herbs he had given him, and the offer to stay. Ah, that’s why he was here, the sickness. Remy’s gaze shifted to the window, early morning light trickling from the windows, illuminating a figure in the corner. “Ah! You are awake!” A familiar voice spoke, gliding over to the bed. Emil greeted the man with a warm smile, “Did you sleep well?” Remy sighed, mumbling, “No, not really, Lots of night terrors.” the priest clucked his tongue, “Symptom of the sickness.” The doctor stated. Remy groaned, sitting up in bed. He met Emil’s gaze, noticing a steaming cup in his hands. Emil noticed the man’s gaze, “Ah, this is for you. Thyme, mint, and horseradish tea.” He pressed the warm liquid into the other’s hands. He hummed in thanks, taking the tea to his blood-stained lips. “I thought you may want to head home soon,” the priest stated, “before the mid-afternoon rush.” Remy nodded, delicately placing the finished cup onto the side table. He swung his legs to the edge of the bed, attempting to lift himself to his feet, plopping back down due to the pain in his legs. “Erm, a little help here?” The weak man rasped, holding his pale hand up. Emil grasped his fingers, hoisting him up and resting his arm around his shoulders. He let him lean up against his side, awkwardly supporting the tall man’s weight. The duo hobbled out the door into the cold morning air, resting for a minute before Emil asked, “So, where are we heading? I do not know where you live.” Remy grunted, tilting his head towards a filth covered street, “Down that street, turn left at the baker’s, right at the blacksmith’s, five doors down you’ve got my house.” Emil nodded, steering them towards the cobbled road. Unlike the mainly stone hospital, the houses on this street were small, consisting of a timber frame, mud and twig lattice within the gaps. As they walked through the neighbourhood, Emil picked up on things he would have never noticed before, rats everywhere, frail peasants on every corner, and the amount of human waste. His leather shoes squashed into the rubbish, ruining the polished sides. The unpleasant smells lingered in the doctor’s nose, foul and putrid. Much to his delight, hey were soon engulfed in the sweet smell of pastries and bread, signalling they had reached the bakery. next part will be short