#Virgil has a panic attack

[sandersontheside]

AU concept: Remus King is a best-selling but reclusive horror novelist. His twin brother Roman is a struggling actor. When Remus' publisher pressures him to make public appearances to promote his newest book, despite his insistence that he wants to stay out of the public eye, they hatch a scheme. Roman will pose as his brother for all book signings, public speaking appearances, and various other events, and will be paid Remus' fee for those appearances, plus a little extra. Roman doesn't particularly want to pretend to be his brother, but he hasn't had a real acting job in months and a man's gotta eat. Besides, he's known Remus their entire lives, he could play the part in his sleep. What could possibly go wrong? 

(Spoiler alert: a lot.)

Virgil Rayne is Remus King's biggest fan, who comes to a signing, over the moon to finally meet the man behind his favorite stories. Only to have a panic attack in line and be forced to leave before he can meet his hero. Or so he thinks. Because while hiding in the bathroom trying to calm down, who should walk in but the author himself, who proceeds to be surprisingly good at talking Virgil down. Once Virgil calms down, it feels kind of awkward to ask for an autograph, but thankfully Remus offers before he can ask. 

Remus even scribbles his number in the book next to his very poetic message to Virgil.

It takes Virgil a few days to get over his anxiety and text, but he ultimately does because how could he pass up the opportunity to be friends with his favorite author?? So they start texting. A lot. And who knew Remus loved Disney movies? Or did theatre in high school? Or sings Taylor Swift in the shower? Or makes silly puns that Virgil can't help but laugh at? Or has a soft, dreamy, romantic side? Remus King is nothing like Virgil imagined he would be, but it doesn’t matter because before he knows it, Virgil has fallen hard. And sometimes it kinda seems like the feeling is mutual? Remus is certainly flirty, but it's hard to tell if that actually means anything.

And, oh God, Roman is so, so, so fucked. Because Virgil has pretty purple hair and dark mysterious eyes and a cute laugh, and short circuited his brain so much when they first met that he didn’t even think before writing his number down. Roman is now totally head over heels for Virgil Rayne.

Virgil, who thinks he’s his brother.  

(Remus is laughing his ass off at this whole sorry situation)

[analoceits]

here are my hc's for how each side crys

logan: he is fighting it the whole way through. squeezing his eyes shut, rubbing at his eyes, etc. refuse to admit hes crying and WILL try to flee.

patton: looks so SAD. pouty lip, watery eyes, etc. he INSISTS hes fine all the way through. sobs a lot but very quietly and only in little hic-ups.

roman: WEEPS. WAILS. ETC. he is SO LOUD and DRAMATIC. all or nothing BABYYY. always has the reddest eyes and nose after.

virgil: depends on context. option 1 is just kinda.. depressed crying. laying in bed while tears slowly pour out of his eyes. option 2 is panic attack crying. shrieking sobs, pressing himself into the farthest corner, etc. neither is pretty.

janus: only cries in private, and only when hes bone deep exhausted. its always just this.. almost mournful sobbing. just weeping into his hands like theres nothing else to do. good at putting himself back together after.

remus: angry crier. his sobs are wretched and ragged. will usually end up cursing out whoever tries to comfort him. bangs his fist on their chest if they try to hold him.

[thatonelesbianfander]

Headcanon: Whenever Virgil has a panic attack near Remus, Remus will play Caramelldansen on repeat and the two will just lay face down on the floor. The weirdest thing about this is that somehow works at calming Virgil down really quickly

[queenofexhaustion]

Sticking together Au

Virgil and Logan are brothers, they're a year apart but they have a close bond. Their cousin is Janus in this au, he's older than them (a year older than Logan). The three didn't have friends growing up since they had each other and since they were picked on a lot, Janus was bullied because of his skin. (Human Janus would have Vitiligo) Logan was bullied for being a teacher's pet, and Virgil for being reserved and being emo. But the three always had each other's back when they were being targeted for anything, which would make Virgil have trust issues when they're older. Logan would be more aware of anyone who isn't his family, not to mention he would be more focused on his studies. And it would make Janus a mother hen towards his cousins, overall they only trust each other and no one else. When they're adults like in their twenties, they meet the twins and Patton.

Patton and the twins met each other when they were young, they're willing to be friends with anyone. Patton was an only child so he got along with the twins, Roman and Remus are both energetic which matches with Patton's personality. They met Patton in elementary school and stuck close to him ever since, they would follow him like ducklings. They weren't bullied since Remus would scare away others on purpose, and if people tried to make fun of Patton for being "childish" when they were teens. Remus would chase them away. Literally, he would start chasing people while laughing in a maniac way. This of course would embarrass Roman, but Patton would appreciate Remus and his way of driving rude people away.

When they meet, Virgil is highly suspicious of their intentions since why were people trying to be nice to them? Logan would try to explain it to him, but Virgil would still be wary. Janus is watching their every move, he is cautious of how happy they seem to be interacting with the cousins. Much like Virgil, he's on high alert. One wrong word, and he's taking his cousins somewhere else. Logan is curious as to why the other three are talking to them, still keeping his guard up. Occasionally assuring Virgil that they probably won't do anything, and holding Janus from walking away too soon. He doesn't want to seem rude, but they leave since they have things to do. Patton is ever happy they might be making new friends, Roman is confused why the three seem so cautious of them. Meanwhile Remus is just as happy as Patton, they talk about their possible new friends when they get home.

"Ok, but am I the only one who noticed they seemed on edge when we were talking to them?" Roman looked at his brother and friend, "We most likely caught them off guard Ro." Patton told him, "Yeah! Patty's right! I mean why wouldn't they want to be friends with us?" Remus agreed, Roman still has his doubts but doesn't voice it.

"People never approach us like that before, they obviously want something from us or they want to bully us!" Virgil rambled, Logan grabbed his hands. "Virge, try not to think about it too much. I know it's hard but attempt to think of something else, not everyone is willing to waste their time being rude to us. What we experienced was bad yes, but not everyone is the same." Logan explained as he gently rubbed his brother's hands, he was trying to keep him from going into a panic attack. "If that is the case, why would they want to be our friends. No offense Lo, but I'm with Virgil on this. We can't trust them too soon," Janus said as he looked at the note he was given. A location so they could meet up again, he was also thinking about the times people insulted him on his skin. The rude comments on Virgil trying to express himself through clothing, and Logan just for doing what he's told by their teachers. Janus was not going to tolerate anymore of that, he promised that he would protect his cousins no matter what.

But two questions remain, would it really be bad to make new friends? And, could they make friends with the cousins?

[let-roman-bite-someone]

this is something i’ve been ruminating on ever since WTIT came out.

i’ve been thinking about this connection for a while. Virgil’s anxiety can lead to cognitive distortions if taken too far (a.k.a if Thomas beats himself up over something) and these cognitive distortions are Remus’s creations. this is interesting, it’s interesting to see how Virgil’s and Remus’s roles overlap and almost compliment each other, but in an unhealthy way.

but this just makes it all the more confusing as to why Virgil wasn’t present in WTIT, and why he seemed so unbothered in the endcard. i once aired this confusion on here and most people said that it was like Logan in Moving On, Virgil was still present within Thomas, he just didn’t take a physical form.

this doesn’t make sense to me because when Logan sunk out, Thomas had trouble thinking logically at first. he gets around to it eventually, but it’s clear that while Logan wasn’t completely gone, his disappearance made a significant impact on the group. Virgil was having a panic attack, Roman was urging Thomas to act on impulse, Patton was confused and lost.

it’s clear this is not the case in WTIT. in an episode that is so heavily centered around anxiety and - dare i say - paranoia, it’s baffling that Virgil was almost completely unaffected. especially since, again, he seemed fine in the end card. he was a little bitter towards Patton, but that’s all.

i’m just curious as to whether there was a canonical reason for this. for why Virgil wasn’t involved in an episode where Thomas was constantly panicking over dangers that might take place.

especially since,

1. Thomas is worried about something Virgil has mentioned before, being alone/losing his loved ones.

2. Thomas did something that Virgil has canonically been shown to care about in the past - not following up on his plans to be productive.

3. fake!Nico says WORD FOR WORD what Virgil suggested during the debate - AND both scenarios were about a potential love interest not replying to Thomas’s text.

of course, Virgil has greatly improved since the negative thinking episode, but he is still anxiety. and Thomas is still an anxious person. and Thomas was visibly freaking out throughout WTIT so it’s really really unlikely that Virgil was just in the backseat for that episode.

Logan temporarily “leaving” (but still being present) in Moving On makes sense because it was an emotional episode, and Thomas needed to sort things out with his emotional sides a.k.a Patton, Roman and Virgil (mainly Patton). there was logic involved but it wasn’t a logic-centric episode.

WTIT was 100% an anxiety-centric episode.

i doubt that this was accidental. there are so many direct parallels and callbacks, it had to be intentional. there’s no way Thomas and crew just forgot that Virgil played a crucial role in creating cognitive distortions. i think there’s something deeper here, there must be a reason why Virgil wasn’t present for this episode and how he seemed so nonchalant when he did appear. there’s absolutely no way Virgil was just “present within Thomas” and didn’t feel the need to show up in person.

[5am-the-foxing-hour]

Thinking about that moment in Inside Out 2 during Riley's anxiety attack, when Joy and the other first emotions causes the "repressed emotions/memories" avalance.

What if that... but Sanders Sides.

Maybe not a conscious action, but a subconscious one. The repressed things ends up behind a door that Janus has to protect and keep closed at all costs. He doesn't even know what's behind it either. He just knows it needs to stay closed.

Somehow it breaks and all the repressed things flood the mind like a big gigantic tsunami.

And unlike how Patton ends up Frogging out when he's overwhelmed, Janus has something similar happening, but instead of becoming this big buff amphibian he becomes a tiny scared yellow snake. Maybe it is due to suddenly having so much less to do after the door was broken.

Thomas and Virgil are okay in the end, but both almost had a panic attack.

All of them felt the shift in the mind with the doors shattering.

idk

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Relapse

hello! hope you're doing ok I have a request that's dealing with some sensitive topics, please don't feel pressured to write this! Warning for self harm I've been in a not the best mental space recently and was wondering if you could write smth where one of the sides has a sh relapse for an extended period of time and is hiding it, then gets discovered (and probably has a panic attack about it). my preference is Logan but I'd be happy with any of them!! – anon

Could you write a Roman angst + hurt/comfort sickfic. You can pick whatever sickness you want to give Roman. He tries to hide his illness from the others but they find out and help nurse him back to health. – monkeythefander

just saying.... if you wanted to write some not-romantic-not-platonic-what-are-you-a-cop? analogical h/c....... especially if they both- oh wait. I was trying to keep this vague but actually I just remembered from one of the earlier episodes Virgil said "I'm a problem identifier, not a problem solver" and Logan made a face like he wanted to disagree. maybe Logan is struggling and Virgil helps him and then later Virgil says something to that effect and Logan starts pointing out all the ways that isn't true? – anon

I was thinking about Logan angst and how maybe some of it isn’t about him thinking that he’s emotionless, but he’s just really reserved, and then the others make assumptions about what emotions he Must Be Feeling. And when he tries to explain himself, they don’t listen because they think he’s just denying that he has emotions, not that he’s denying having the specific emotions that they assume he has. – anon

Hi, I absolutely love your Sanders sides fics and I was wondering if you would write roman angst where the other sides realize that he is nearly always performing when he’s around them (kinda like your fic productivity). Like they thought Roman was kinda irresponsible/ careless and then they find out that when he’s not around them he’s working himself to the bone to prepare for the 0.5% and when he is with them he’s still not relaxing - even when they’re just like having dinner or something - because that’s when he has to perform. No pressure to write anything if you’re not up for it; you write Roman angst like no one else – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-harm

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3529

Relapse: deteriorate after a period of improvement. Relapse: return to a less active or worse state. *** There are good times, there are bad times.

Virgil gets summoned when the other Sides are afraid. Somehow, Logan had forgotten this crucial thing.

Stupid, stupid—

"Hey, no, none of that, bud," comes Virgil's voice, low and soothing as he crouches next to Logan on the cold bathroom floor, covered in water and blood and sodden toilet paper and— "Hey. Stay with me, Logan."

Logan blinks. He looks up. Virgil's face is blurred. He blinks again. Something warm touches his face, brushing tenderly along his cheek—hand, his brain supplies, that's Virgil's hand on his face. He blinks again. "V-Virgil?"

"Hey, there he is. You with me?"

"I think so."

"Okay, that's good. That's really good, Logan, okay? I want you to try and stay with me while we get you all cleaned up. Can we do that?"

Cleaned up. Right. That's why he'd come into the bathroom. That's the rule. He only ever does it in the bathroom because that's where it's the easiest to clean.

Oh, God—

"Logan." Virgil's voice is a little firmer now. "Stay with me, remember?"

"I'm here." He shakes his head slightly. "I'm here."

"Okay. I'm gonna stand up to get you some water. I'm not gonna leave, I'm gonna use the cup you keep in your medicine cabinet for this reason, okay?" Logan nods. "Okay. While I do that, I need you to count backwards from twenty. Ready?"

"Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…" As he counts, Virgil stands up. He hears the click of the cabinet opening and the sink running. "Five, four, three, two, one."

"Good job, bud. Here, drink that, okay? Try and drink all of it if you can."

"It's so much."

"One sip at a time, yeah?" There's a hand on his shoulder and another on the hand holding the cup. "C'mon, just try and get some of it down. For me?"

He can try. For Virgil, he can try. He lifts the cup with Virgil's help. The cool water soothes his throat—he was crying, he was hyperventilating, the rush and sting of it dulled everything to a background roar, why can't he just live there instead—and he swallows once, twice, three times. Soon he lifts the cup back to his lips and discovers it's empty.

"Good job, Logan, you did great. Do you want some more?"

He shakes his head. Virgil nods and takes the cup gently from his hands, settling it on top of the counter and taking Logan's hand in his. He rubs his thumb over Logan's trembling knuckles and gives his fingers a squeeze.

"I need to clean you up, buddy. Do you want to stay in here while I do that?"

"Bathrooms are easy to clean," he mumbles by rote, and Virgil only hesitates for a moment before there's another squeeze.

"Yeah, I know, but you're not a bathroom. You're Logan. And if Logan needs to be all comfy on his bed while I clean up, then that's what we'll do."

Bed…his bed sounds very nice right about now. His body tingles with the macabre satisfaction of being exhausted and lying down would help, wouldn't it? He tries to stand but a fresh sting of pain ripples up his legs and he collapses back to the wet tile.

"Hey, let me help you, c'mere, come put your arms around me…" Virgil hefts him off the floor like he weighs nothing, carrying him through to his bedroom and settling him on the edge of the bed. "There. I'm gonna go get the stuff from the bathroom, okay? You'll see me the whole time, you'll watch me go over there and you'll watch me come back."

"You won't leave?"

Virgil's gaze softens ever so slightly. "I'm not gonna leave, L. Do you want to count again? Would that help?"

"Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…"

By the time he gets to one, Virgil's got the first-aid kit laid out on the bed next to him, a towel folded up next to it, and another cup of water on his nightstand. He lets Logan wind nervous fingers into his hoodie, holding him close. He reaches up and lightly ruffles Logan's damp hair, smiling in the way where the corners of his eyes crinkle up.

"Hey, bud. You got me, see? I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna start cleaning up now, yeah? You wanna close your eyes for me?"

Logan's grip tightens. Virgil covers his hand with his.

"You got me, see? I'm right here. You can close your eyes, L, it's okay."

"If I close my e-eyes I'll just feel it. I can't—" his breath hitches— "I can't just feel it."

"Okay. Do you…do you want to see what I'm doing?" Logan shakes his head. "Okay. Do you want to talk while I'm doing this?"

"What would I talk about?"

"Well, I do wanna know what happened, but—but," he says softly when Logan barely stifles a whimper, "that doesn't have to be right now. Why don't you talk to me about something that isn't work related? Have you been watching something interesting?"

"There's—" he swallows— "there's this video game that Roman and I have been talking about."

"Oh, yeah? What's it called?"

"Superliminal."

"That sounds cool as hell. What's it about?"

"The premise is that you're going to this hospital for something called 'dream therapy,' meant to help you relieve—relieve stress," he mumbles, breath hitching again when Virgil tears open an antiseptic wipe, "and the game is you going through the stages of the therapy."

"Huh. That's a cool idea for a video game. What, uh, what's the story like when you're actually playing it?"

"The core mechanic is—" he hisses at the sting and Virgil blows a stream of cold air over it— "that you can change the world around you by picking up objects and that will alter their relative size based on your perception of them."

"Whoa. How the hell did they program that?"

"I have no—no idea."

"What sort of objects?"

Logan continues to describe it as Virgil works patiently to clean him up, pausing every once in a while to murmur words of comfort and encouragement when Logan's voice gets a bit too strained or his hand suddenly tenses. He keeps asking questions, prompting Logan to continue talking, until he finishes describing one of the more frustrating puzzles and realizes that Virgil's hands are on his shoulders, not his legs.

"You…you're done?"

"Yeah, bud, I'm all done. You did great. Here, drink some more water."

He accepts the cup and manages to lift it himself this time, Virgil's thumbs stroking gently over the seams of his shirt. The cool air of his room hits his still-damp skin and he shivers. "Are…are we to talk about what happened now?"

"I think that's a good idea, don't you?" He shrinks in on himself and Virgil's quick to lean forward, cupping the back of his head and carding a hand through his hair. "I'm not mad, L. I'm not gonna get mad. You don't have to be scared with me, I swear."

"You promise?"

He wants to flinch at how much a child he sounds, but Virgil just smiles. "I promise."

He closes his eyes, turning his face into the crook of Virgil's neck. Virgil's fingers keep working patiently against his scalp. He takes one deep breath, two, three.

"I was…talking with Patton."

"Okay."

"We were—I was—" he swallows— "I was trying to explain how I'm not—I don't—I don't feel things as strongly as he and Roman do all the time but that it's not the same thing as not feeling at all because it isn't, just because I don't yell or shout or proclaim my emotions for everyone to see doesn't make them less important or less valid just for—"

"Shh, easy." Virgil's hand rubs firmly up and down his back. "Hey, bud, you're okay."

He swallows. His chest starts to get tight again. "He wasn't listening to me."

"Can you say more?"

"He—he kept on trying to say that I did have feelings, even if they weren't the same as what I thought they should look like, but I do know what my feelings look like, I know better than him what they look like because they're my feelings, and I—" he chokes on a sob and Virgil shushes him again, whispering you're doing great— "I just got so mad."

Virgil rubs his back again, pulling away to push the cup of water into his hands again. "You got mad?"

He nods. "I…I yelled at him about how he didn't know what was best for me and he didn't—couldn't know what I was feeling because he's Thomas's emotions, not mine, and I didn't—I didn't mean to get so mad but it wasn't—I couldn't just explain it to him calmly because he wasn't listening but then he tried to tell me I was—I was—"

"Hey. Hey." Virgil takes his face in his hands, giving him the gentlest of shakes. "Look at me, L. Just look at me."

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Shh, shh, don't be sorry, you're not doing anything wrong. It's okay, you're okay, you're alright. It's just me, we're in your room, you're safe. Just take a second, calm down���shh, shh, that's it…that's it, L, you're doing great."

Logan takes a deep, shuddering breath. The lump in his throat grows. He truly didn't mean to shout at Patton. He didn't deserve it. He just got so frustrated and Patton wasn't listening and it—he—

"Is that why you came up here?" Virgil's question is gentle but stings no less. "Because you felt bad about it?"

"I don't like being angry," he croaks. "I don't like the person I become when I'm that angry."

"Oh, L…"

"I don't know how to be angry without being punished for it," he whispers, "and Patton—Patton just—he just—I—he couldn't—I can't—"

"What did he do? Or say?"

He sniffles. "He said that if I really did know about my feelings, then I wouldn't…then when I felt them, I wouldn't—I would know how to handle them."

Virgil's quiet for a long moment. Then he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like kick your ass that Logan's fairly certain is directed at Patton, not him, before he's being bundled up in another strong hug. "I'm really sorry, L, that was shitty of Patton to say."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Hey, uh-uh. We're not gonna do that now. We're gonna make sure you have enough water to drink, that you eat something, and that you rest, okay? Everything else can wait."

Logan nods. He takes another breath and holds onto Virgil. "What is it you say?"

"About what?"

"About later you?"

"Oh, right: that's a problem for Future Virgil. These are problems for Future Us to deal with, yeah? Trust me, I'm an expert problem identifier."

Virgil's shampoo smells like pine. Logan tucks his chin over his shoulder and hums. "You're wrong about just being that, by the way."

"Huh?"

"You always say that you don't solve problems, you just find them. But that's not true. You help. All the time."

"Aw, thanks, L. You're sweet."

"Does that count as an emotion?"

"'Sweet?' I dunno, let's ask Princey when we're up to it. For now, why don't you poof yourself into something more comfy and we'll watch an episode of that dumb game show you like making fun of."

"The one where the points system makes no sense?"

"Yep. That one. And, hey, Logan?" Virgil chucks him lightly under the chin with a smile. "I'm really proud of you."

"But I…relapsed."

"Yeah, but then you did all of this. You let me take care of you, we talked about it, we made sure you're okay for right now, and that shit's harder than people give it credit for. So yeah, bud, I'm super proud of you."

The smallest smile makes it to Logan's face.

***

The first thing Roman realizes when he wakes up is that he's somewhere soft and warm. Which is strange, because last time he checked, the bathroom floor where he thought he'd passed out is neither of those things.

Then he realizes there's a gloved hand adjusting the blankets tucked up under his chin and oh.

"Hi, sweetie," Janus says softly, patting his cheek, "good to have you back."

"How long…?"

"A few hours, at least. You were pretty exhausted." He raises his eyebrows. "Would you like to explain yourself, or should I?"

There's just enough gentle affection in his voice to keep the sting from overwhelming him, but he can't help but flinch away from it. Janus coos, leaning down to brush a kiss over his forehead, a cold un-gloved hand tucking itself against the side of his neck.

"You've been sick, sweetie, for days, and you've hidden it from all of us."

"Didn't—didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to hide it, or didn't mean for it to get this bad?" Roman shuffles guiltily. Janus hums. "I found you on the floor of the bathroom, covered in sweat. I managed to get you into bed but you need to eat and drink something."

"Not hungry."

"You don't have much of a choice right now, Roman, you need something in you. Don't you dare," he threatens with a tap to Roman's nose when he opens his mouth, "I'll get Remus to help me bully you into taking care of yourself, don't think I won't."

"…okay."

"There we go. Come sit up, you've got more pillows than Sleeping Beauty's palace. Would you prefer juice or Gatorade?"

"…can I have blue?"

"Yes, you can have blue. Sit up, now…"

Roman carefully gets himself sitting upright, blankets still swaddling his lower half as Janus reaches for a small bottle on his nightstand. He manages about half of it before he gives it back. When Janus moves toward him with a snack, though, he closes his mouth and stubbornly turns away.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I have to get back to work."

"You don't have to do anything other than rest and get better."

"But we have movie night."

"Exactly. We don't have anything else to do other than relax, so you should try and rest up now so that if you feel up to it—if," he repeats sternly when Roman shrugs, "you feel up to it, you can join us."

"But that's not how it works."

"That's not how what works?"

"I don't get to relax during movie nights."

Janus pauses. There's a soft clunk as he sets the bowl back on the nightstand and then the cool hand is cupping Roman's cheek, thumb brushing over his flushed skin. He closes his eyes at the relief of it.

"What do you mean," comes Janus's soft voice, "that you don't get to relax during movie nights?"

"I don't get to."

"Say more, sweetie."

"That's not—that's not the point. That's not why we have them."

"That's precisely why we have them, Roman, so we can all de-stress and relax together."

"No, we have them so Thomas can relax."

"We—we're saying the same thing, Roman—"

"No, we aren't." Roman pulls away from the touch, burying his face in his hands and scrubbing harshly. Janus tuts, catching them and pulling them to his lips, kissing his knuckles. "Don't—what're you doing?"

Janus's eyebrows quirk. "Why am I treating you gently? Is that what you're asking?"

"…you're mad at me, so—"

"I'm not mad at you, sweetie." When Roman frowns, something flickers over his expression and settles on something way too close to devastation for Roman to be comfortable still holding eye contact, so he looks away as Janus lets out a quiet noise. "Oh, Roman…"

"What?"

"Can you look at me?" Roman drags his eyes back up and Janus squeezes his hands. "Why do you think I'm angry with you?"

"…you had to take care of me? I'm disagreeing with you? I'm not—you didn't—I haven't—"

"That's my fault," Janus interrupts with a sigh, "let me rephrase: I'm not angry with you, Roman. I'm not angry that I 'had' to take care of you, I'm upset because you needed taking care of and you didn't feel like you could let us know. I'm not angry that you're disagreeing with me, I'm concerned because you're telling me that something I thought was relaxing for you isn't actually relaxing at all. I'm not mad, you're not in trouble, I'm not going to—to punish you, I want to help."

Roman stares at him. That's more words than he's ever heard Janus say to him about feelings ever, and too many of them sound too perfect to be coming out of Janus's mouth at him. And as if he can hear those thoughts, Janus takes his un-gloved hand and brushes Roman's hair back from his damp forehead. An embarrassing noise leaves his mouth and he goes to pull away but then the other hand is cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer.

"Can you tell me why movie nights aren't relaxing for you?"

His jaw wobbles. "I have to—they're for Thomas."

"What does that mean? I'm not trying to make fun of you," he says quickly when Roman's mouth screws up, "I'm just trying to understand."

"It's for Thomas. That means I have to—I'm there for Thomas. I have to be watching the movie for Thomas. I'm not—that's not relaxing, nothing I do for Thomas is relaxing, it's work."

"But Thomas doesn't always come to our movie nights."

"So?"

Janus frowns. "So why would the ones where he's not there also be for him?"

"What does Thomas do to relax?"

"Let's see, he…well, he watches movies, he reads things, he watches shows, plays games with his friends…"

"He engages with stories."

Janus lets out a quiet oh. Roman closes his eyes. The pounding in his head is back.

"So it's…work. It's part of the 0.5%, or whatever it was."

"You know that Logan doesn't believe that anymore, don't you?" Roman's quiet for a little too long before Janus kisses his forehead again. "We'll talk to him when you feel better, okay?"

"Wait, 'we?'"

"You didn't think I'd leave you on your own to deal with things, did you?" At Roman's hopeful expression, he chuckles. "You're enough of a disaster already."

"Hey!" He smacks weakly at Janus's chest. "I'm sick, you have to be nice to me."

"And considering that's the first time you've admitted that you're sick, I'd say that proves my point."

"No fair."

"I know, I'm so mean to you," he murmurs, unable to keep all of the remorse from his voice as he kisses him again. "Shh, it's alright, sweetie, everything's going to be okay. Now go to sleep, you need it."

"Will you—can you stay?"

"Of course I can, sweetie. Rest, now. We can sort everything else out when you wake up."

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[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn't do) (6)

warnings: captivity, restraints, panic attacks, unethical science, experimentation, wounds, injury and blood mention, character being kind of an ass, fear, bird ex machina, lmk if i missed any  

-

Virgil woke up to find he was surrounded by darkness and completely unable to move.

Seeing as the last thing he remembered was being poisoned into unconsciousness by a demon slayer with mad scientist leanings, this was about as far from reassuring as an awakening could be.

For a disoriented moment, he tried to check for the baby crow, which mostly just involved him listening closely for any loud, raspy-voiced swearing. Naturally, there wasn’t any, because he’d blacked out and the slayer very clearly hadn’t wanted Roman’s bird anywhere near him.

Bizarrely enough, he felt a little morose at the baby crow’s absence. Maybe because she was the only creature who had figured out that despite being a monster, he wasn’t actually a threat to humanity.

Or maybe it was just because being immobilized in a dark, silent place was totally freaking him out, and he would have taken any company so long as it meant he hadn’t been locked away forever or buried alive.

(Could he still die from a lack of oxygen? Would he be stuck underground, conscious and alone, for the rest of time? He couldn’t even call out for help.)

His body was unresponsive, and nothing his brain was coming up with was remotely helpful, so Virgil focused on his breathing, trying to keep his count steady as he inhaled and exhaled air that could be rapidly running out—

By the time the slayer entered the room, Virgil had already hyperventilated himself into unconsciousness a few times, each time utterly convinced he was dying.

The man didn’t bother saying anything to him or even sparing him anything more than a glance, simply walking around the space and lighting several lamps at a brisk pace, but Virgil felt a vast, sweeping sense of relief fall over him regardless.

He wasn’t buried. He hadn’t been left alone to rot away in the dark.

He was… extensively strapped down to a waist-high table in the center of the room?

A significant amount of his relief started to fade. Right. He’d been caught by a slayer who wanted him dead or worse, and was now entirely at his mercy— assuming he even had any for demons.

There was another person in the room, too, and they scurried about so quickly that it took Virgil a few moments to identify them as the wary stranger who had sent him to go find their brother. They were wearing the same uniform as the slayer, now, which answered basically all of Virgil’s potential questions about the situation.

“Subject ABN-V3, Log 1,” the slayer started, and Virgil’s eyes flicked over to him curiously. “The subject regained consciousness approximately half an hour after halting the regular wisteria toxin doses, indicating remarkable poison resilience, comparable to a Lower Rank.”

There was the distinct scratch of hurried writing, but the slayer’s hands were unoccupied as he circled Virgil’s prone form. The younger slayer must have been an assistant.

There was a muted pressure on his hand, which refused to even twitch, even as the pressure grew heavier. The slayer hummed, pulling away. “In contrast, regeneration ability appears relatively slow. Internal organ function has resumed, but exterior nerves and muscles remain paralyzed.”

His organs had been paralyzed?! Virgil’s breathing stuttered, and he wrestled with the instinctual panic for a moment. His lungs were clearly working now, so he should just keep breathing and not pass out again.

When he looked back over, it was to the sight of the slayer staring directly at his face with a detached sort of curiosity. That composed mask of his may have dropped for a few moments in the clearing, but it was fully repaired and glued in place now.

“Do you have anything to say?” he asked, which was a little startling.

Virgil blinked at him for a moment, and then very quickly recalled that blinking was about all he could do. His hands weren’t cooperating with him, and even his head felt too heavy to shake or nod at the moment.

An irritated rumble started up in his chest for a moment before dying out, and he heaved a low sigh, already exhausted. He’d burnt through all his default terror while panicking in the dark, and now there was barely anything left to scrape up for his impending dehumanizing death.

The slayer only watched him impassively for another long, silent stretch of seconds before turning his attention away.

“Subject’s nonverbal behavior remains consistent with previous encounter,” he narrated, which succinctly explained why he’d bothered to verbally prod Virgil in the first place. “No secondary manifestations present in the room. We’ll proceed with direct regeneration testing while the paralytic is still in effect.”

There was a metallic clink, and Virgil’s gaze flicked over to a tray covered with tools he could only guess at the purpose of. Most of them were sharp-edged.

At least he wouldn’t be able to feel them. Yet.

The slayer picked up a thin blade, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, in an attempt to not have to see whatever was being done to him.

The narration of that calm, clinical voice couldn’t be as easily blocked out, so he found out regardless.

—

His healing factor had improved a lot since being turned into a monster, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the level he’d seen from some of the other demons he’d fought, so he wasn’t surprised to find that the first thing he felt when the paralysis began to wear fully off was pain.

The wounds weren’t serious, at least. He hoped that didn’t mean they were saving more lethal ones for when he could actually feel them, but he wasn’t optimistic about his odds.

(Unsurprisingly, it seemed like most demon slayers really hated demons.)

The slayer seemed strangely perturbed by the way the methodical injuries he’d inflicted hadn’t healed yet. Apparently, vastly accelerated healing was the norm for most demons, so this was just another way in which Virgil was a freaky outlier. Virgil could have told the slayer as much himself if he’d been able to sign.

Not to say that he’d regained all his vocabulary. With his limbs strapped firmly down, his post-poison communication was limited to signs that he could form with just his hands, and no accompanying movements. Fingerspelling was tedious, but at least it was possible.

“S-L-E-E-P,” he’d signed when the slayer had been theorizing on his apparently deeply unusual slow healing. “L-O-N-G.”

It took a few repetitions for his captor to pay it any mind, but once he did, his expression immediately creased with doubt. Virgil let himself look irritated about the reaction, because really, what was the point in pretending? He was screwed either way.

“If hibernation periods could heal demons, there would be longer stretches of inactivity between attacks,” the slayer said, frowning down at him. “It would make my job much easier if that were the case, but it isn’t.”

Since when was Virgil the representative for all of demonkind? He’d barely even spoken to other demons, since generally their interactions tended to start and end with them trying to kill each other. This was his supernatural sleeping schedule, not theirs.

Generally, he only slept like that when he was injured. If he wasn’t hurt in a fight, he didn’t get tired. He signed as much to the slayer, and earned a disbelieving scoff for his efforts.

Virgil had only been dozing lightly so far, seeing as he was currently trapped and about as far from safety as he could possibly get, but the disbelief rankled, and he huffed before pointedly closing his eyes as though to prove it.

He thought maybe the slayer wouldn’t allow it— there probably wasn’t much to scientifically observe when your subject is sleeping— but to his surprise, the man only noted down the behavior and then left.

It took a good part of the first day to force himself down into genuine sleep, but being left alone in a quiet space was close enough to his usual cave naps that he eventually managed to sink into the heavy unconsciousness of one of his impromptu hibernation sessions.

A full week later, he snorted into wakefulness to see the slayer had unstrapped one arm and was inspecting the smooth skin where the incisions had been previously.

This must not have been the first time he’d removed a restraint to see if Virgil was faking his beauty rest, because his head shot up with keen alarm the moment Virgil’s eyes fluttered open.

He released Virgil’s hand and drew a thin, needle-like dagger from his side in the same moment, presumably a breath away from poisoning him back into temporary organ failure.

Virgil barely even registered the movement, his eyes still crusted over with sleep. Half-awake and triumphant, he blearily inspected his completely-healed arm and then promptly signed, “I told you so.”

“Return your arm to the restraint,” the slayer instructed, his voice brooking no argument and his gaze assessing.

Virgil made a sour face, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t you have cuffs?” he asked, turning slightly so he could tap his free wrist to his strapped down one for the last sign. “I could at least sign in those.”

“The restraint. Immediately,” the slayer replied, firm as stone.

A low grumbling growl of complaint started up in Virgil’s chest, but there was no way he could get free of the other restraints quickly enough to try and escape, and he really wasn’t looking to get his organs shut down again for no reason.

Besides, the assistant kid was still there in the corner, watching him with wide eyes, and he didn’t like the idea of scaring them.

Fine. He’d go back to his stupid nap then.

With a petulant scowl, he closed his eyes and stuck his arm back out and allowed the slayer to pin it back into place and tighten the straps over it. He flipped him off afterwards, though, just to make things clear.

It was quiet for long enough that he pried his eyes back open suspiciously. Both of the slayers were staring at him like he’d just started abruptly juggling fish or something, and he raised his eyebrows in a display of irritated bewilderment.

For once, the slayer didn’t have some snappy annotation to spout, only glaring down at Virgil with his jaw working like he was gritting his teeth.

Was he really that pissed off that Virgil had been telling the truth about his healing? Why?

“Professor Logan—,” the baby slayer whispered, faltering when Virgil’s gaze flicked their way.

“That’s enough for today,” ‘Logan’ answered, stepping away from the table. “We’ll speak elsewhere.”

Virgil only barely managed to stifle an incredulous noise as the two of them left, putting the lights out as they went. They’d never bothered to take their rude and often horrifying conversations about him elsewhere before. Maybe he should try being right about things more often.

—

“Bastard!”

Virgil’s eyes flew open at the muffled call, his head feeling much clearer after sleeping off the last of the poison’s symptoms.

It was quiet and dark all around him, as always, and for a moment, he nearly convinced himself that he’d imagined the noise entirely.

Then, from outside the door, there was a raspy squawk and an audible ruffling of feathers. “Fiend! Fiend?”

… Just how determined to swear at him was this bird?!

He couldn’t exactly respond, and he wasn’t sure why he would want to. Logan had reacted extremely negatively to the bird existing in the same space as him last time, and he wouldn’t wager that the slayer’s attitude had changed in the past however many days.

Still, the crow was clearly looking for someone, possibly even him. He could hear the distinctive pitter-patter of little taloned feet scurrying back and forth on the floor, with the occasional inquisitive swear thrown in.

After a few long minutes of this, Virgil gave up on trying to go back to sleep, unable to tune the little creature out. He may as well try to answer in the limited way he could.

It took entirely too long, but he managed to purse his lips and whistle a long, low note.

The clicking of steps stopped dead, and then grew abruptly louder, the bird’s faux-speech taking on an excited tone.

The baby crow audibly scrabbled at the doorway for a few seconds, before evidently managing to worm her way under the door gap. From there, she made short work of the flight up to the table, where she immediately perched directly on Virgil’s forehead and peered upside down at him.

“Scourge!” she announced gleefully.

Someone certainly hadn’t learned her lesson about fraternizing with big scary demons. He whistled an amused note at her, fingers twitching in an impulse to reach up and ruffle her feathers before he remembered his situation.

Right. No bird-petting for monsters, he guessed.

The crow— wasn’t her name Fluffbutt or something?— seemed to notice the movement, though, and she traversed down Virgil’s arm in little hops. He still couldn’t really reach her scruff of downy baby feathers from this angle, but he gave it his best attempt.

Fluffbutt pecked him harshly, which, rude, and then she turned around and started picking at the straps holding his forearm down.

… No fucking way.

Virgil craned his neck to look over at the bird, his disbelief slowly melting away as he saw that yes, the crow really was tugging and prying at the corded knot holding the restraints in place like her life depended on it.

It was slow going, but as she steadily worked at it, Virgil could tell that progress was being made. He wiggled his arm testingly every so often, usually getting bit for his efforts, and after what felt like hours of agonizing waiting, he finally managed to pull through the last threads of the restraints.

He only had one arm free, but that and some time was all he really needed. Fluffbutt reclaimed her spot on his forehead, watching as he quickly tore at the restraints on his other limbs.

As it turned out, quickly sitting up for the first time in days was a bad idea. Virgil rode out the surge of dizziness and pushed to his feet, pacing back and forth in the small room until he was confident that his legs had remembered how to function well enough to get him out of there.

A simple test of the handle revealed the room had been locked, and Virgil wasted a few minutes poking through the unsettling number of medical tools in the room before realizing there was no way they’d left the key in here with him.

He could probably kick the door down if given a few tries, but the more noise he made, the more likely it was that Logan would find him mid-escape and put him right back in those restraints. Virgil had no illusions on how a second match between him and the uncannily quick slayer would turn out, which meant that stealth was currently his best friend.

He turned his gaze to the wall, wondering if they were flimsy enough that it would be better to try and punch a hole through one of those, but before he could decide further, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Shit. Plastering himself against the wall, he waited tensely for them to pass by— only for them to pause right outside the doorway. There was the distinct click of a key being inserted into a lock. Double shit.

The door swung open, and the assistant slayer had just enough time to look up and see the empty specimen table before Virgil leapt at them.

Don’t freak out, he would have said if his hands weren’t currently occupied with covering the slayer’s mouth and dragging them bodily into the room. Instead, he made a series of low chuffing sounds from deep in his chest, which helped absolutely nothing about the current situation.

“Scourge!” Fluffbutt crowed, her contribution equally as unhelpful.

Hurriedly booting the door shut with his foot, Virgil only had a moment before the baby slayer gave up on trying to pry his hand away and instead went for the sword sheathed at their side.

Since letting them do that was basically a one-way street to getting decapitated, he risked releasing them for long enough to tear his claws through their belt and yank the sword free, sheathe and all, before tossing it into a corner with a muted thud.

“PRO—,” they started, and Virgil slapped his hand back over their mouth, hissing lowly in the closest approximation to a shush that he could manage. They responded by glaring and biting him, which he really should have expected after living with teenagers for a few months.

It only took a glance around the room to find a suitable cloth from the cache of cleaning supplies, and Virgil wrangled the baby slayer into a headlock for the handful of seconds it took him to assemble a makeshift gag and shove it in their mouth.

With the slayer now unable to raise the alarm, Virgil paused for a moment to think, his whole body jittering with sudden adrenaline. The easiest solution would obviously be to strap the slayer into the convenient demon-proof restraints readily available on the specimen table, but he really didn’t want to do that. The kid was already panicking hard enough, the last thing he wanted was to make them think he was going to experiment on them or something.

Instead, he tore a larger piece of linen into strips and wound them around the slayer’s wrists a few times before knotting the end of the faux-ropes intensively around one of the table legs.

The slayer started yanking against the makeshift restraints the moment Virgil stepped away, their cries muffled but still audible enough that he should really be escaping sooner rather than later.

Luckily, his cloak had been dumped on a nearby shelf with the rest of the meager belongings he carried with him, mostly ignored after Logan had finished snooping through it for bones or something. Virgil ignored Fluffbutt swooping noisily around his head as he slung the comforting weight back around his shoulders and pulled the hood up, and then stepped back around the table towards the door.

The baby slayer seemed to think he was headed for them instead, their gaze very obviously wide with terror as they scrambled ineffectively to get away from him. He stopped short, guilt swamping him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he signed, backing up a few paces to try and give them some space. “I just want to get out of here, okay?”

The kid stared at him, chest rising and falling as rapidly as a sparrow’s. He sort of wished he had heard their name at some point, but it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. As it was, he didn’t even know if they knew sign, let alone how to calm them down.

He sighed, lifting his hands up to his shoulders in a gesture of nonaggression, and edged around them to finally get to the door. Fluffbutt settled on his shoulder, apparently content to be identified as a little feathered demon-associating traitor. 

The hall was blessedly empty when he stuck his head out to check, and so he waved a small farewell to the kid— almost certain that they would wriggle out of those haphazard bonds within the hour— and closed the door after himself.

The key was still sitting there in the lock, so he twisted it to relock the room, and after a moment of thought, dropped the key and kicked it under the door so that the kid wouldn’t be stuck if nobody else came by in the next few hours.

He’d done it. He was out— mostly, anyhow.

Now, all he had to do was stay out.

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you're in the hive, the other bees assume you're supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 2: The Morning After

Wordcount: 3K

~~~~

Virgil wakes up to the sound of birds singing, and he doesn't recognize the room he's in. Even before he opens his eyes he knows it's not his bedroom, and this isn't his bed. The sunlight is coming from the wrong direction, and this isn't his blanket. It's the wrong texture, the wrong weight.

Where did he fall asleep last night?

He doesn't remember. It's too early for remembering, for discerning the difference between dreams and memories.

But he's awake now—he's sure he's awake now, not dreaming—and this is not his bed, is not his blanket.

Virgil opens his eyes. He's on a couch, with a throw pillow under his head and a quilt on top of him. The room is dim, barely illuminated by the morning light coming in through the gaps in the blinds, but Virgil can see another couch across the room, with a person-shaped lump under another blanket.

Slowly, Virgil sits up and looks around. He sees an armchair, in which is yet another person, splayed out in a position that does not look comfortable, and yet, apparently, sound asleep.

There are three more people asleep on the floor between Virgil’s couch and the other couch, mostly on top of some kind of mats on the floor, and more or less covered with more blankets.

Virgil picks his way across the sleeping-people-and-bedding-strewn floor, and slips out the door into the rest of the house.

Last night is coming back to him, now. He remembers the party wrapping up, and Princey explaining that anyone too drunk or tired to drive home safely, or who just didn't want to try to travel after midnight, could spend the night.

Virgil hadn't wanted to stay, but apparently Remus had forgotten to take Virgil’s wants into consideration, and had vanished with his husband behind closed doors some time prior, leaving him stranded. So, Virgil had laid claim to one of the couches, taken the pool noodles out of his costume, and made the best of it.

The couch had been pretty comfortable, actually. It was not the worst sleepover he'd ever had, despite the impromptu-ness of it.

Remus probably isn't awake yet. It's early, and Remus has never been a morning person even when he didn't have an exciting night. Which means that Virgil’s going to be stuck here for another few hours at least. Fabulous. Hopefully Remus's twin and the other hosts don't mind him hanging around until Remus gets his lazy ass out of bed to drive him home.

Virgil finds a bathroom and uses it, and then considers going back to the couch and trying to get some more sleep.

He doesn't want to.

The couch is comfortable, but it isn't his bed, and that isn't his bedroom, and there are at least five other people in there and he's no longer exhausted enough to not care about falling asleep with five fucking strangers in the room with him, not to mention however many other people are in the rest of the house. Sure, they're all asleep right now, probably, but if he goes back to sleep, there's every chance they'll wake up before him, and he doesn't know them, doesn't know what they'd think would be a funny prank to play on the guy who fell asleep at a party, and–

He's spiraling. Virgil is spiraling and he needs to stop before he has a panic attack in a stranger's bathroom. He takes a deep breath, looks at the sink and the water that's been running over his hands for a minute now. He considers splashing some water on his face, but he doesn't actually want to do that, so instead he takes some soap (he doesn't remember if he soaped up already, but it won't hurt to do it twice) and finishes washing his hands.

He'll be okay.

He was asleep here already, in a room full of strangers, and no-one did anything. Sure, they were all too passed out to do anything, but still. No-one had played any pranks on him while he slept.

And he's awake now. He can wait until Remus gets up, and then he can make Remus take him home, and he can lock the door and take a nap in his own fucking bed, alone.

Yeah.

He'll be okay.

Virgil exits the bathroom, and doesn't go back to the room he'd slept in. He wanders in the other direction instead, and soon comes to the main room that had been the epicenter of the party.

To his surprise, he's not the only one there.

“Good morning, Virgil,” greets a man who Virgil is pretty sure he has never seen before in his life.

“Good morning,” Virgil replies automatically, his brain whirling, trying to figure out how this man knows his name. Not from work, Virgil doesn't introduce himself to customers and he “lost” his nametag ages ago.

He tries to scrutinize the man without being obvious. He has glasses with simple black frames, nothing particularly memorable or eye-catching about them. He's wearing a polo shirt and a tie, at early o'clock in the morning, while also still wearing what are clearly pajama pants.

The pants are patterned with—Virgil squints—are those beakers? They are. And microscopes, and atoms. Okay, dude's definitely a nerd then, noted.

Nerd…

Nerd-Bot!

That's why Virgil didn't recognize him, he had a box on his head last night! Granted, Virgil probably wouldn't recognize ninety percent of the people at the party if he saw them again out of costume—ninety-nine, if he's being perfectly honest, and it only isn't higher because he already knew Remus and Janus, and he might be capable of recognizing Princey and Calico now, at least in the context of this house—but he'd never even seen this guy's face.

He'd introduced himself to Virgil. Nobody else had done that. “Hello, I am—” Virgil can't remember what he'd said his name was— “I am dressed as a robot.” (It had been pretty obvious he was dressed as a robot.)

And Virgil had responded in kind, “I'm Virgil, I'm a spider.”

That was how he knew Virgil’s name. Good, mystery solved. What was his name though? Virgil isn't very good with names. That particular bit of the memory is nothing but static and an impression of the man's tone.

Princey had called him Nerdbot, and Calculator Watch and Encyclopedia Brain and half a dozen other nicknames that aren't coming to mind now, so him coming back and striking up a conversation hadn't been much help on the ‘remembering names’ front.

“Are you hungry?” Nerdbot asks, interrupting Virgil’s thoughts. “There's cereal, and toast, and coffee. We had not anticipated anyone but myself being up this early, but there will also be pancakes and scrambled eggs in an hour or two.”

Virgil blinks. “You're making us breakfast?”

“Of course,” Nerdbot replies impassively. “It would not be very hospitable to send guests away hungry. If you would prefer, there are also leftovers of most of the hors d'oeuvres served last evening.”

Virgil has never been to a party that included breakfast before. “I– cereal?”

“Certainly,” Nerdbot says, and gestures for Virgil to follow him into the next room. It's a kitchen, and Nerdbot opens a cabinet and takes out an entire stack of cereal bowls. “If you wouldn't mind setting these on the table out there, I would appreciate it,” he says, handing the bowls to Virgil.

Virgil takes the bowls back out to the main room and puts them on the snack table, which is otherwise mostly bare. The paper tablecloth is gone, and all the food's been put away, but there's still the stack of cups that had been beside the punch bowls, and some water bottles. Virgil snags one and slips it into his hoodie pocket.

Nerdbot comes out of the kitchen behind him and sets several cereal boxes on the table beside the bowls. “Might as well start getting it set up now,” he explains. “Take your pick, I'll be right back.” And he disappears back into the kitchen.

Dang, they've even got name brand cereal. Virgil usually gets the off-brand stuff, because it's cheaper and doesn't taste very different. He pours himself a bowl of lucky charms.

Nerdbot returns with a jug of milk and a handful of spoons. “Would you like juice?” he asks. “We have orange, apple, and a blend that is primarily peach. There is also chocolate milk, if you would prefer.”

Virgil shook his head. “Water’s fine.”

“Very well.” Nerdbot picks up one of the bottles and places it beside Virgil’s bowl, then returns to his seat.

Virgil adds milk to his cereal, takes the second water bottle, and looks around to see where to sit. There aren't any chairs at the snack table, but there are several around the edges of the room, along with a couple stools and the armchair Nerdbot is sitting in. He's got a mug and a plate of toast on the side table beside him, and one of the dining chairs is on the other side, so Virgil decides to sit there.

They eat together in awkward silence. Neither attempts to make conversation.

When Virgil finishes his cereal, he asks, “Where should I put my dishes?”

Nerdbot looks up. “Oh, you can put them in the dishwasher,” he says. “Please rinse your bowl first.”

Virgil does. There's plenty of room in the dishwasher, and he's not sure how they like to load it, and there aren't any other bowls yet to extrapolate from, so he just makes his best guess. The spoon at least is easy. There are several pieces of silverware already in the caddy, handles upward, and Virgil’s spoon joins them.

He returns to the main room.

He sits back down in the dining chair.

He doesn't know what to do now.

Nerdbot finishes his own breakfast, gathers his dishes, and takes them into the kitchen, snagging the milk jug on the way. When he returns, he doesn't sit back down. Instead, he starts taking down one of the purple and orange streamers crisscrossing the ceiling and walls.

“Would you like help?” Virgil offers. Nerdbot glances over his shoulder at him, then nods.

“Much appreciated,” he says with a smile.

Together, they take down all the decorations in this room, throwing away the streamers and piling the more reusable decorations on the small table beside the armchair. When that's done, Nerdbot asks Virgil to help him move the snack table.

“We put it here to make space, but as the majority of the partygoers went home last night, it can go back to its usual location,” he explains, going to one end. Virgil mirrors him on the other end, and they lift.

There had been just enough room to walk between the table and the wall, so you could reach the food on the far side without reaching across the whole table. Careful not to tip anything off, they move the table another foot or so out.

“That looks about right,” Nerdbot says, eyeing the table thoughtfully. He grabs the nearest dining chair and puts it in place, testing that it can be pulled all the way back without hitting the wall. Satisfied, he starts moving the rest of the chairs back.

“Does it matter which ones go where?” Virgil asks. The chairs are a mix of two sets, four of them wooden with white-painted slats and legs, and five made of twisty black metal, with padded seats and backs.

“No,” Nerdbot says, so Virgil just puts the chairs in randomly. Three go on each of the long sides of the table, and one each at either end. The chair Virgil had breakfasted in, which is one of the metal ones, remains where it is.

“Thank you. You have been very helpful,” Nerdbot tells him, and Virgil smiles. Okay, so overall it hadn't been as awkweird a morning as he'd been expecting.

Nerdbot considers the table for a few more moments. “We could add the stools, to squeeze a few more people in,” he muses. “Still, it would be too tight to fit everyone even so.” He turns to Virgil. “Do you think we should get out the extra leaf?”

“Uh.” Virgil hadn't expected to be consulted! “How many people are there?” Counting Virgil there were six in the room where he'd slept, and then he knows Janus and Remus are still here somewhere, plus–

“Fifteen,” Nerdbot says, and doesn't even need to count first. “With the additional leaf, we can seat twelve easily enough, though the corners are a little tight. If we're willing to brush elbows, we can squeeze in a fifth person on each side, for a total of fourteen, which leaves only one person unseated.”

“I can sit out,” Virgil volunteers. He does not want to be squeezed in with a tableful of mostly strangers, thanks much. “I already ate, and that sounds crowded.”

“Hm. I would not want you to feel excluded,” Nerdbot says, eyeing the seating arrangement. “But you're right, it is a tight fit, especially considering the number of people present who talk with their hands. I would also dislike for a glass of juice to be upset into someone's lap.” He sighs. “Again.”

“Does everyone need to eat together?” Virgil asks. 

Nerdbot turns to him, eyebrows raised. “You're right,” he says. “We had not planned a specific breakfast time, and people will be waking at various points, not all together. It is entirely probable that at least three people will be not dining at any given point, in which case we would merely require twelve settings.” He nods decisively. “Excellent. Will you assist me in adding the leaf?”

“Where is it?”

“Under the stairs, with the holiday and seasonal items,” Nerdbot says, walking off. Virgil follows him.

They have to shift a couple boxes to get at the extra leaf, but they get it out, and between the two of them they add it to the table, and then add stools at the resulting gaps.

The inactive silence which follows is less awkward than the one before. Virgil plays a game on his phone.

After a bit, a few more people show up. Nerdbot greets them and offers breakfast. “There is cereal and toast available now,” he tells them, “and we will be making scrambled eggs and pancakes shortly.”

One person takes him up on the cereal, but the others decide to wait for hot food. Nerdbot offers them coffee as well, which they gratefully accept.

The fourth person to arrive is Calico, who is still dressed as a cat. He's a gray cat now, in a simple onesie, instead of the more elaborate costume from last night.

He hugs Nerdbot from behind, mumbling a sleepy “Good morning” into his shoulder blades.

Nerdbot's face softens. “Good morning, love,” he answers fondly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm-hm,” Calico says, still hugging him. 

“Do you want to get started on the pancakes?” Nerdbot asks.

Calico yawns. “Okay,” he says. He doesn't let go of Nerdbot. Nerdbot pats his hands with an extremely affectionate smile, and slowly, Calico releases him.

Nerdbot turns around and kisses him, and Virgil looks back at the game on his phone because privacy. They probably don't want to be stared at while they kiss in their own dining room.

He glances up again after several seconds of silence, and they're still kissing, frozen in place like a pair of statues. The Lovers, or whatever. Virgil returns to his game.

Eventually, he hears Calico say, “You took the decorations down,” and he looks up. They're hugging now, Calico wrapped up in Nerdbot's arms. He's pouting a little.

“I did,” Nerdbot confirms. “As we agreed previously, the season for Halloween is All Of October. It is November first, and therefore no longer Halloween time. Furthermore, while some guests remain, the party has ended, and there is no more need for party decorations.”

Calico pouts harder, and Nerdbot kisses him again, much more briefly this time.

“After breakfast, I will assist you in putting up more decorations,” he says. “You will note that I did not remove any general fall decor, only the specific Halloween items.”

This room had mostly been Halloween and party, though. There was a cross-stitched leafy picture on the wall, but they'd taken most everything else down. Maybe some of the little stuffed jack-o-lanterns should have stayed out? Pumpkins were definitely general fall, but jack-o-lanterns were specifically Halloween, right?

Well, they're just on the table, not packed away. If he wants to, Calico can put them back easily enough.

Calico hums a little, squeezing Nerdbot. “Okay,” he says. “I'll get started on the pancakes. Will you make the eggs?”

“Of course,” Nerdbot says, and they head into the kitchen.

While they're cooking, Virgil is surprised by the appearance of someone else he recognizes.

“Hey, it’s my favorite barista!” greets the man who is, as always, wearing sunglasses.

Virgil grins. “What are you doing up before noon, you chronic insomniac?” he returns.

“Looking for coffee, obviously. What are my options today?”

“There's sugar and cream,” Virgil says, since Nerdbot had offered those. “I doubt there's a milk steamer or flavored syrups, but our host is an excellent cook, so if he likes you enough to let you raid his spice cabinet I'm sure there's cinnamon and ginger, so you could attempt an approximation of pumpkin spice.”

Remy grins at him and saunters into the kitchen. He comes back a few moments later not with dry spices but with a bottle of creamer, which he pours generously into a mug before adding coffee.

He plops himself down in Nerdbot's armchair and makes casual conversation with Virgil, who doesn't have to tell him he can't talk now, he's working and there are other customers.

It's nice.

~~~~

Chapter 3: A Series of Unintended Events

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 37 - Ready

Story to date in order (Tumblr / AO3)

Ch 35 & Ch 36

… *sneaks this one out and pretends it’s only been a couple of weeks*…

Herewith some soft bros working through stuff then Gordon takes charge.

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The sketchbook was heavier than the jacket.

Both were tucked under Scott’s right arm as he clung to Virgil’s hand with his left. His brother seemed to float along after him, unresisting, barely aware of his surroundings. That was… not ideal. The jacket just hung innocently from his forearm, as if it hadn’t been the cause of all this… but the book? The book and all it contained was conspiring with gravity and actively trying to escape him. He pressed it hard into his side with his elbow to prevent it slipping any further. The spiral binding wire dug into his hip.

The temperature in the villa was as perfectly climate-controlled, as ever. But Virgil was shivering despite the flannel and undershirt.

Time to get him up into the sunshine. He pulled a little more firmly and they passed into the kitchen.

Gordon, looking up from his plundering of the fridge, raised an eyebrow as they passed. Scott inclined his head - he had it in hand but had no objection to the squid covering his six. Gordon snapped his heels together and raised a half-eaten bratwurst to his forelock in a snappy, if objectively ridiculous, salute. Scott rolled his eyes before calling “Bear snacks would be good actually, Gords” over his shoulder.

Virgil didn’t acknowledge any of this at all, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. However as they stepped outside he closed his eyes and turned his face towards the late morning sun then murmured:

“It’s ok, I’m not, uh, seeing anything I shouldn’t be. I’m fine.”

Scott snorted. “Your definition of fine is worse than mine.”

Virgil sucked in a breath and huffed a small laugh “Pretty low bar that.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Steering him carefully across the deck and around the pool, he engineered his little brother into a lounger then pulled another alongside. Gradually the tension eased in Virgil’s shoulders and he melted into the chair with a sigh and a muttered “Sorry Scotty”.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Vee.”

A little wrinkle between the eyes betrayed some disagreement with that statement but Virgil didn’t appear to have the energy to argue.

The sun beat down on both of them.

Scott leaned back in the chair and pretended to relax too, while carefully assessing Virgil out of the corner of his eye. His breathing seemed to have evened out. That was a good sign. He closed his own eyes for a moment and tried to steady his own stampeding heart rate.

Watching his brother in the throes of the kind of panic attack he recognised so vividly but had always tried to kid himself into believing most of his precious family would never have to understand first hand… it felt like something was clawing at the inside of his rib cage. None of them should ever have had to have known it… Gordy sadly excepting, of course, but at least nobody, even Scott himself, could truly believe that what happened to his little fish has been his fault, whereas this… this was more complicated. At the moment he couldn’t work out if he was more sad or angry or… something else entirely.

It was taking everything Scott had in him not to suggest they abandon the whole scheme. And then to wrap his brother up in something fluffy and build a 12ft wall around him.

And fire the uniform into the sun.

He reached a hand over to take hold of his brother’s but found Virgil still had the pencil clutched in his fist.

“I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“It doesn’t have to be today.”

Virgil looked up, exhaustion painted all over his face. “If not now, when? I have to beat this, Scott.”

“Do you, though? I can just get rid of it. You never have to see it again?”

His little brother closed his eyes again and shook his head.

“It’s not… really about the clothes though is it? I have…” he gestured irritably at his own head “neural pathways to fix.” Another little frown “No, not fix. Retrain.”

“I understand.”

“I know you do. Look maybe I’ll never really be actually ready but I think I’m going to have to just do it anyway?”

“Ok, as long as you don’t hurt yourself in the process.”

Virgil grimaced. Then pushed himself upright and held his hand out to Scott. It was almost steady. Scott took it and squeezed but his brother didn’t open his eyes.

“Pass it to me.”

“Now?”

“Right now. Please.”

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Virgil pulled the jacket across his lap and tentatively laid a hand on it. The adrenaline rushed back - he shivered again - then took a deep breath and lifted a sleeve a little to study the weave .

“Do you find the texture unpleasant? Is it like me and crunchy towels?”

He scratched at it gently and noted the whispery hiss of the robust fabric under his fingernail. “Hmm no, not really. It’s only that… it’s kind of unique isn’t it? Nothing else we wear is made of this and i guess it reminds me of when we left you the first time… I was hugging you and… and dad dragged me off because I was embarrassing you and I tried to grab your hand and missed and just caught the sleeve.”

“You weren’t embarrassing me. I nearly ran after you actually.”

Virgil smiled weakly. “But it makes no sense because it’s not as if you were wearing it the last time before… uh, before you didn’t come back. If anything it’s that white USAF hoodie I should have a problem with.”

“Just as well, I still wear one of those. Or at least I did… not seen it in a while actually.”

“Gordon.”

Scott rolled his eyes and groaned “Whyyyy?? My stuff doesn’t even fit him.”

“Bad rescue. He couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

They both looked over at the kitchen where the little brother in question was busying himself with making ludicrously extravagant cocktails.

“I guess… none of these things have to be completely logical, right?” Scott glanced back and reached over to squeeze Virgil’s shoulder.

“Hmmmph. Maybe. Would be easier if it was.”

In fairness there wasn’t much his brother could say to that. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Scott was holding himself very still in a way that betrayed he was trying very hard to look relaxed. Virgil wasn’t fooled and slyly observed him - every so often his eyebrows would raise a little as if he was about to say something but caught himself.

“What do you want to ask, Scooter?”

“I was just wondering… look we don’t have to talk about it now. Don’t worry.”

“I’d like to though. What are you wondering?”

“Ok I was wondering… What happened, Vee? In the hospital? I know you were there, you were the only reason I knew I was out of… There but… my memory is, well it’s pretty hazy. I looked up your records… I’m sorry” he chewed on his lip “I guess that was out of order but I needed to know how to help and what the psychiatrist and grandma were talking about. But all I could see was you were admitted and there was some security incident but no details and then you were seemingly staying in the same ward as me but as a patient? And you… you had an injury? And… I was just worried whether…that, that wasn’t me lashing out, was it? When I was… I didn’t…?”

“Scotty it wasn’t you. I promise, you didn’t hurt me.”

“Ok. Ok that’s good. So what… did… how were you?” Scott trailed off inarticulately and in the face of his brother’s confusion, Virgil found himself suddenly, finally equal to the task of talking about the time he’d spent a decade trying to pretend was a horribly vivid dream.

“I don’t remember it so very well myself. I got told later that I wasn’t compliant with the meds and so most of what I remember isn’t exactly… y’know... uh reliable? But I believe you and I escaped a secure ward and scaled the side of the building in quite unsuitable pants. Well it was only me in the bad pants, you were…” he frowned and shook his head “Well. Not… not there. Actually. So… heh. It’s academically quite interesting because I can see you there in my memory as clear as anything else. But you weren’t of course… anyway at the time I was adamant it was all your idea which, err, concerned them. Obviously. Dad was… well I dread to think about his reaction. You were on the seventh floor so um… yeah. It was probably nuclear. But he was unusually gentle with me. And I guess somehow during that I cut myself on something. And after that I slept in your room which must have been contrary to every policy in the book but he’d probably threatened the entire hospital administration with something unpleasant and legal so… yeah. I was there while you were getting better.”

“You climbed out a seventh floor window?”

“In. My room was lower down. Maybe only a floor or two. To be honest I mostly just remember having to hold up my own pants as they had no waistband to speak of… you were entirely unsympathetic about that, by the way.”

Scott blinked then tried to school the smirk off his face as Virgil blushed.

“So even while unconscious in a hospital bed I still managed to get you into a ludicrously dangerous situation.”

“That’s about the sum of it, yeah.” Virgil grinned back, suddenly feeling a weight lifting as the incident became a source of humour rather than fear. Catching amused blue eyes he added in a quieter voice: “I had to find you, didn’t I?”

Scott reached for his hand again and seemed to be searching for the right thing to say when Gordon materialised bearing a broad grin and a tray precariously loaded with a wide range of comfort foods and brightly coloured cocktails.

Scott cleared his throat, accepted and took a tentative sip of the blue one. Then screwed up his face and spluttered:

“Fie, Squid! What treachery is this?”

“Sherbet! Some fruit purées. Rums. A smidge of chilli, that blue stuff. Standard summer cocktail fare Scotty boy.”

“Rums PLURAL?”

“It’ll put hairs on your chest! Relax you a bit.” Gordon added something under his breath but Virgil was distracted from asking him to repeat it by the more pressing matter of observing his elder brother’s attempts to scrape the fizzy residue off his tongue with a cocktail umbrella.

Virgil eyed his green-containing glass with some trepidation.

Yours is virgin, Virgie-oh. I’m not stupid. Last time you painted a portrait whilst drinking, John had a giant eye on his cheek.

“It was a cubist piece! You’re even more of a heathen than he is!” The tiny head jerk towards Scott was unnecessary.

“Hey! I get art!”

Virgil conveyed his skepticism through the medium of eyebrows.

“Well… once you’ve explained that’s it’s meant to be art… then I get it!”

“So, gentlemen,” Gordon cut in before Virgil could launch himself into a distracting but satisfying lecture on art appreciation, “have you got a plan?”

Virgil tried to remember how to swallow and let Scott confirm that no, they hadn’t got that far yet.

“Well lucky for you chumps, your genius little brother does!” He grinned like a trashy quiz show host from the 1900s then pointed at Scott and the glass of blue stuff:

“You - drink that. Ideally in one. And you…”

His wingman’s finger of inevitability swung to rest on Virgil’s nose.

“You’re ready.”

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[tastic-in-its-finest]

Heyyyyy 💜💜

First of all I love your writing so muchhhh second I have a headcanon that Virgil would be emetophobic (fear of vomit) because of his time with Remus who kept teasing him about it (like making gagging sounds). Can you write Virgil getting sick when they're already older with the light sides and absolutely panics, and patton/Logan taking care of him??

Don't think about it

Thank you so much, I'm glad you love my writing <3 as for your prompt, I hope you also love this. I hope you don't mind that I continued off of the previous work (but this could probably be read as a standalone)

Summary: For years, Virgil’s had a fear of vomit. A fear that he would rather deal with by himself. However, luck is not on his side and shortly, everyone knows just how bad he fears it.

Word count: 6148

Warnings/Tags: LOT of mentioning of throwing up and actual throw up, descriptions of gross things, slight mention of bugs, snakes, blood, and guts. Also a panic attack

Ao3 | other work

...

The morning is quiet. An uncomfortably weird quiet that he has yet to get used to. But it's much better than Remus shrieking or destroying the house like he does every morning. So he really was just reveling in the perks of being accepted.

Who knew that when you’re less stressed you can actually enjoy the small things in life? Like his bed was abnormally comfy that he almost didn’t want to leave.

But he has family breakfast in the morning.

Virgil goes downstairs and stops at the last step to see a familiar scene in front of him. Roman often sat in his regular seat, shouting at a reasonable volume about his latest adventure or whatever recent escapade he had gotten Thomas into. Then there was Patton, diligently listening as he aided Logan with whatever’s on the menu this morning. Logan however, was always 100% focused on cooking, or if Virgil slept late enough, reading while sipping a coffee, cause unlike the other two, he didn’t talk while he ate.

Overall, pretty normal.

“Ah Virgil! Good morning. I need your opinion on something,” Roman turned around on his chair.

“Uh sure— What is it?” He was still getting used to people calling him by his actual name. It had only been a few weeks after all.

“Wellllll, Thomas was just talking to this cute fellow down the street, and I was just thinking that we should ask him out sometime. What do you say?”

Virgil blinks, “… Do you know who you’re talking to right now?”

“Is that a yes?”

“No! What if Thomas ends up breaking up with the guy, then it's just going to be awkward when he takes out his trash. OR not even that, what if he rejects Thomas and tells all his other neighbors that he’s a creep and they will never talk to him again!”

“Sheesh, alright alright! But…” Roman dramatically turns to the kitchen, “Specs! Do you believe that Thomas is at a good place in his life where he could start dating?”

Logan turns around confused, “Why are you asking me? I am not an expert on romance.”

“But if Thomas were to start dating, would now be a good time for him?”

“Well… I wouldn’t say anytime is a ‘good’ time. However, considering Thomas’ recent consistency to the schedule and his ability to complete tasks on time. Then yes, now would be a good time. It’s just a matter if he says consistent.” Logan muttered the last part.

“There! See Virgil? Thomas is ready.”

“It would still be awkward though…”

“Oh hush!”

Virgil huffs a laugh but quickly turns to get a morning juice from the fridge.

However, he stops before the fridge door hits him square in the face as Patton rustles in there, trying to find something.

“Oh, sorry kiddo. I’m trying to find some pickles but it's very jarring,” Virgil smirks, “Nah, you’re fine Pat. Didn’t you put it in the back corner?”

“Oh, maybe! But you know… while I’m digging through here, is there something you would like?”

“Just a caprisun.”

“Well, you’ve come to the ripe place.” Another witty eye rollable pun he must pretend not to like.

“Ha! I guessed it this time.” Roman hollers, “One extra sandwich please!”

Virgil rolls his eyes and smiles cause Roman has consistently failed to guess what he’ll drink in the morning. Thus, when he finally gets it, the extra sandwich is earned.

“Here you go!” Patton hands him a nice cold caprisun, which he wastes no time to open, “Thanks.”

With this Roman resumes his previous conversation with Patton, effectively taking the spotlight off of him which he’s joyous about. He also takes the opportunity to sit on an empty kitchen counter, sipping away.

When he gets a closer look into the kitchen, instead of Logan hovering over the stove and making sure it doesn’t burn down without him, Patton is. And he doesn’t leave the stove, not once except for his trips to the fridge.

It seems like Patton’s the one cooking this morning. Now, Patton wasn’t the best cook, he knew the basics, but he certainly wasn’t a cooking machine like Logan. While he was definitely learning with Logan teaching him every morning, he still neglected a few basic things like leaving the stove on after cooking. Virgil wasn’t one to judge though. The best he can do is manage the microwave and toaster which he’s mastered over the years. However, Patton was a fantastic baker, so maybe Virgil was a little hopeful to see cupcakes or cookies for breakfast like Logan would allow that.

He knew they were having sandwiches, leaning more into brunch than traditional breakfast. There was a lineup of tuna cans, a pickle jar, eggs, and slices of bread. Huh, tuna sandwiches.

They were trying to mix them in a bowl but the pickle jar was less cooperative. Virgil figured he should help out a bit, “You need help?”

“Oh, sure!” Patton handed it to him.

The lid was stuck tight but after a bit of tugging he managed to get it open.

Then a foul sour odor that he felt as if he could taste travels deep into his nose. He wanted to gag, he really did. How rotten were these? It made him feel like he was going to—-

Throw up?

He coughs as he puts a hand over nose and sets the nasty pickles aside. Patton takes notice, “Oh, do you not like pickles?”

“No, these just smell awful.”

Patton takes a sniff and cringes just like he did, “Agh, why does it smell that bad?”

“Possibly the fermentation?” Logan comments as he continues stirring, just like Virgil's stomach…

Patton and Logan continue discussing it, but he couldn’t exactly focus on the conversation because of the smell. Even though the pickles were far away, the smell continued to sting his nose and brew, like it was bubbling in his mouth as well.

When he stands up from the counter to sit away, he feels a wave of heat and dizziness upon landing his feet on the ground.

Oh no, he leans onto the counter for a little support, was he really going to do this?

A few steps in trying to get to the dining table, his stomach begins to drop. Great, the nausea is coming in. Don’t focus on anything else, just make it to a trash can (preferably away from anybody else).

The bathroom.

“They shouldn’t smell like that…” someone muttered.

“I think they went bad…” another mumbled.

”Hey Virge, where are you going?” He happened to make it halfway up the stairs until Roman had to say something.

“Uh, the bathroom.”

“Ah, alright?” Roman sounded suspicious. Why? He didn’t know and he frankly didn’t care.

After reaching the top of the stairs, with no one watching him, he runs to the bathroom and collapses over the toilet, right square, staring at the barrel of the bowl.

Just in case someone went upstairs, he waves his fingers which promptly closes the door and locks it next to him.

Alright, so, if he throws up, he won’t make a mess. That thought was both terrifying and slightly comforting.

~~~~

”Blegh! Blegh!!” Remus was gagging over the table, nothing was actually coming out of his mouth but Virgil couldn’t help but imagine it. Ever since Remus found out about Virgil throwing up for the first time, the boy wouldn’t stop asking questions about it and making those gross noises… he was starting to know why Dee told him to never tell Remus everything, but it was so hard not to. Especially when he had to explain why he wasn’t in his room this morning.

“Remus, knock it off,” Dee walked by, patting Remus’ head, who blew a raspberry in return. His gloved hands sets down a bowl of a brownish gray, gooey and clumpy looking thing… of food.

“Mmmmm, vomittt,” Remus grabs a spoon from the bowl and lets the vomit drop back down. A ping stabs his stomach, with that aching rumbling that he felt last night when he…

No, no, no, no, no, no, he didn’t want to throw up again. He really didn’t want to do that again. It felt so violating, like he couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t stop it.

“I don’t want to eat that,” he slid down on his seat so he didn’t have to see it anymore.

“It’s not actually vomit, Anxiety, it’s just oatmeal,” Dee tries to scoop some as it plops dead center onto his plate.

“But Remus said—“

Deceit sighs, “I know what he said but believe me, it's not that bad.”

“Yeah, it's not actually vomit,” Remus scoops a bit onto his plate, “It does look like it though,” he mumbled. Remus starts scarfing it down, and a bit of it drizzles from his lips, “Who knows, maybe one day you'll throw up and it'll never stop.” His stomach turns at the thought.

“And what would you throw up? Bugs, snakes, blood, or guts?” He covers his ears but he can still hear Remus’ loud volume through muffles. Dee says something but he feels too sick to hear it.

“I could imagine there would be a point where it wouldn’t be food anymore. Just pure spit, blood, and organs if you couldn’t stop it.” He didn’t want to imagine this, it didn’t make him feel good.

And then he’s hit with it. A wave of nausea… His empty stomach won't twist anymore and his mouth feels dry and icky, awaiting what's coming. He has no choice but to vomit again.

Virgil stumbles out of his chair and tries reaching a toilet, but he doesn’t get far before it happens right on the carpet.

~~~~

To keep his mind off of it, he summons Thomas’ IPod with his old music that he listened to during his emo phase throughout his teen years which wasn't all that bad. Maybe even criticizing the music will take his mind off his stomach and he won’t throw up all together.

But no, the music along with the current situation made him think of less important things instead.

~~~~

Virgil is slightly laying down on the couch, right at the end, so if anybody sits down he’s not sandwiched between them. Even so, he was reading a philosophy book so he's ‘cultured’ as Dee puts it. Like he needs to read this to understand why moral obligation is bad. Just say you don’t like Morality, Deceit.

Either way, he wasn't going to put himself through this without listening to his trusty Ipod that Thomas got recently. Not only that but Thomas had been dabbling in some emo culture too that he’d taken an interest in. And Virgil loved it. So he had also been wearing some of the makeup that Thomas experimented with. And it may look bad or hideous but if anybody had anything to say about it then they can—-

“Ooooo, cool makeup. Are you trying to die?” He peers from the book to see Remus upside down, sprawled over the rest of the couch with his legs hanging off the end, crazy unsettling eyes and smile as per usual.

“No, why did you say that?” He’s very close to kicking his head.

“Hehe, when people die, they put makeup on them to make them look less dead for open caskets. Is that what you’re doing?”

“No.”

”Why not?”

“Cause I’m not dying.”

“Not yet.”

Virgil sighs and tries to find his previous spot, but Remus reaches over with his finger and drags down the book.

“Do you know what we are having for dinner?”

Virgil shrugs.

Remus laughs, “Oatmeal.”

“Remus.”

“The grey one.”

“Come on,” Virgil huffs. The book won’t rise because of the finger.

“It was a little funny wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“The way you fell out of the chair was really—“

”—You really won’t let it go, will you?” The glare he gives does nothing. He doesn’t know why he expected it to. Remus does a small cackle, “Nope!”

Virgil sits up a bit on the couch, “I was like five or something.”

“Me too! And you really did throw up a lot. It was a little impressive.”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“No, I’m being serious too. You could throw up a lot more now,” Remus tries to poke his stomach but Virgil blocks him with the book.

“I wanna see,” his smile widened. However, Virgil was reserved to not ever under any circumstance, think or even try to throw up. Especially not for Remus’ amusement. Which made him sick in itself.

He didn’t want to think about… the bile, the smell, or the raspy throat afterwards.

“Uhhhhhh Virgie?”

Blink, blink, “Hm?”

“Were you considering it?”

“No,” he never wanted to. But he knew this wasn’t going to be the last time Remus brought up the subject.

~~~~

At this point, he should just do it.

It's going to happen. Anytime now.

He didn't know if he wanted it to be done quickly just to get it over with. Or if he wanted to prolong this because Virgil knows that with his luck it's going to happen when he least expects it. Not like this is the first time.

~~~~

He immediately regretted opening his door. A foul, and inconceivable smell floods his nose. And he would have sulked back into his room, but someone tugs at his sleeve.

“Virgie-poo, just who I need!” It’s Remus, dragging him by linking their arms together and skipping. Well, more like dragging Virgil who was resisting at every chance he got.

“What do you need me for? Why don’t you ask Deceit?”

“Cause, he’ll probably say no. But either way, I made this game especially for you and me!” Oh boy, this is going to be a disaster.

Remus stops at the foot of the kitchen which is where the smell has intensified. But alas, he lets go of Virge. By this point, he’ll just be dragged again if he turns around so he tries entertaining whatever Remus’ idea is just to make this a little bit enjoyable for himself. Cause he was either, 1. going to be subjected to something he doesn’t want to see/hear/touch/smell or 2. he was going to be the butt of the joke of whatever idea this was.

But for now, the only questionable part of the kitchen was a mysterious pot where the smell must be immiting from. Imagine spoiled milk, meat, and mold together while coming from a wet dog after a mud bath, is what it smelled like.

Upon closer inspection, he is dealing with option 1. and possibly option 2. He gazes inside at this concoction, which is as colorful and chunky as he expects. It’s even boiling too. It looks like vomit…

Virgil backs away and covers his mouth along with his nose to keep from smelling it anymore.

“Alright! Now, put on some gloves, don’t let it touch you. We need as much as we can so they can drink it,” Remus snaps latex gloves on both hands.

“I’m not drinking that.”

Remus blinks for a bit, “Well, I was going to hand it out to Roman’s villagers, but if you want to drink it you go ahead,” Remus seemed hopeful.

Virgil tilts his head, a little confused, “But… then why are you involving me in this?”

Remus begins to chuckle before settling down, looking amused, “Prince poops a lot has been a real meanie to you lately, so I thought doing this and seeing his face while his villagers implode would be fun!”

“Now!” Remus claps and turns around back to the pot, “Let’s get it ready so it doesn’t look suspicious,” Remus rubs his hands together, but Virgil cannot lift a hand without being attacked by the smell, not to mention the bubbling and colorfulness of the contents.

“I can’t,” Remus turns around and seems to grasp his problem. He could imagine how sick he looked, “Oh! It doesn’t smell that bad—” Remus couldn’t finish his sentence before Virgil ran away.

Now unlike the many other times something like this has happened, he managed to reach an actual toilet. It took him by surprise, one moment he feels like gagging, then he realizes something is actually coming up with it. He didn’t throw up much though, just bile. But it was particularly acidic in his throat.

“You look great.” Remus appears and leans on the doorway.

“Was this your actual plan?”

“Uh no? But this is a welcome surprise,” Remus is just as close to the toilet as he is, he peeks a look at the liquids. And he summons a spoon…

“Don’t. Seriously.” Virgil slams the toilet lid and flushes much to the disappointment of the duke.

“Are you ready now?” Remus asks. There was no way out of this was there?

He sighs. He was going to need a nose plug and some shades.

~~~~

Either way, he's much safer here next to the toilet than anywhere else. One flush and he doesn’t have to smell it or deal with it like he would with a trash can.

No, that was much worse.

~~~~

It was just like when he was a child. When he woke up, the room was dark and non-navigational. His room was often messy too cause he hadn’t really been listening to Deceit scolding him over his disorganization. But at the time, it made sense cause even so he knew where everything was. At a time like this however, he wished he listened.

He trips over a pile of laundry as he ducks for his desk. He doesn’t let it bother him and throws his chair to the side as a result, feeling under the desk hastily with one hand and covering his mouth with the other. And the vomit wouldn’t stop, it was beginning to drip down his fingers cause it was slowly slipping out of his mouth. When he finally finds the trash can, he lets it all out, not like it was much, but enough.

The smell itself is enough to make him feel nauseous all over again, along with all the food he had thrown away in this trash can.

Great this is perfect, he wipes his eyes as he starts crying. Maybe it was the acidity of the vomit smell or it just sort of happened. But really, he felt gross. He is covered in vomit (on his one hand but still), and smelling it like it's a hobby. But god forbid he tries to clean up and gets the urge again. Then he has a mess on the carpet, which he doesn’t even know if he could clean up without constantly thinking about it.

But he wasn’t going to ask Deceit. He wasn’t going to be treated like an obligation. Or have Remus find out. He doesn’t need the extra energy.

And that by itself made him feel even worse. Because vomit or not, he was alone.

He was all alone.

~~~~

There's a small knock on the door which he can immediately tell is Patton.

“Hey Virge, are you ok in there?”

“Yeah.” He sounded way too pathetic.

“Oh, alright. Well, breakfast is ready, it’s egg-stra special!” That makes him smile a bit. Although, he forgot how oblivious Patton could be.

“Okay.” He mumbles as he hears the footsteps walk away.

He’s just going to sit here for a little longer. Just in case.

He stands from the toilet and his back stabs him as punishment. Bending over on the hard floor laying on his knees for a good ten minutes clearly wasn’t isn’t good for him.

However, the dizziness isn’t as intense as it once was as the smell and horrible thoughts eventually subsided. Nevermore, he leans on the sink and examines his face as it feels flushed and gross even without throwing up. And he wasn’t wrong.

His eyeshadow was smudged pretty badly from rubbing his eyes and even… was he crying? He looked like he did, the makeup lines down his cheeks were proof of it.

He remembered sniffing a bit and his face feeling wet, but he didn’t realize he was crying.

Virgil rolls up his sleeves and sighs, this isn’t healthy, not at all. What adult cries over throwing up?

But how is he supposed to stop this though? Just forget every single horrible experience he had throwing up? All that teasing and humiliation?

He turns on the facet and throws cold water on his face, which removes some heat from his face and provides a wave of relief.

Remus was just being Remus. But he was being a big baby about this. He should just get over it. Virgils not a kid anymore so he shouldn’t act like one. When was the last time Thomas threw up as an adult?

He summons a pallet and begins getting to work with a hasty makeup job.

This was just pathetic. He’s grown up. He’s seen and smelled a lot of things throughout the years (that may or may not have made him sick) so he shouldn’t be bothered by something as small as spoiled pickles.

When he looks back at himself again, he’s slightly happier. Not perfect, but not a mess anymore. And he isn’t going to cause a mess either, right?

Whatever, he’s probably been gone long enough, he shouldn’t keep them waiting anymore.

It seems as if Virgil didn’t miss much.

While Roman and Logan are already settled at the table, Patton is still messing around in the kitchen finishing up his sandwiches. While all of them are conversing, he tries not to engage to not draw any unwanted attention to himself because explaining why he was gone is more embarrassing than what actually happened. His plan doesn’t work however, because just going downstairs is enough.

“Greetings Virgil. How are you feeling?”

”Uh fine,” that was not convincing at all. You would think he would be a good liar by now since he was raised by one.

“How are you?” He responds back, and maybe Logan didn’t notice much because all he says is, “I’m satisfactory. However, I fail to see why creating another web series would be a good idea for Thomas. So I’d like your opinion to show why I’m right and Roman’s wrong.”

“Really!?” Roman interrupts mid bite, “The only opinion you need is mine because Thomas needs to let his creativity out there! He can’t just be sitting here all day doing nothing.”

“Thomas doesn’t sit around and do nothing all day. He already has plenty of creative projects and I can’t conceive why it would be a good idea to add another when he already has enough on his ‘figurative’ plate,” Logan concludes by taking a bite.

“I agree with Logan,” Virgil comments, and effectively leaves to the kitchen since Roman would ask why and he does. However, Virgil ignores him because Logan has already taken over in his place and Virgil’s already wasting his time.

The ticking time clock of his stomach isn’t going to wait.

Please just let him get a sandwich, eat, then retreat to his room so he can be prepared again if he feels the need to throw up.

Rounding the kitchen, the first thing he sees is the dreaded pickle jar, the same one that started this. They didn’t cook with it right?

“Um, are those the same pickles?” He points, and Patton perks up from where he’s about to leave with two tuna sandwiches.

“Oh! No. Roman summoned new ones, they’re much better!”

“Ok, cool,” Patton smiles as he leaves for the table.

Virgil gets a plastic plate, in case he wants to head to his room and finish the food there and so he doesn’t go back down for dishes. One sandwich, because two might make him feel sick and three is out of the question. And a piece of a grape vine, because fruit is good for you.

He sits down and absently listens to the conversation mostly dominated by Logan and Roman arguing about the same topic. This feels much longer than usual, like time slowed down for this moment only. Probably because he’s eating pretty slow and only focusing on that.

As much as he would like to scarf down his food, it would probably upset his stomach more which is counter productive. It's a balanced game of eating fast enough that he’s making progress but slow enough that his stomach isn’t further disturbed.

Even then he feels it building up, or maybe it's all in his head? Either way, it's not good.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Don’t think about it.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It’s all in your head.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Your stomach is twisting because you’re hungry, just calm down.

But Virgil’s stomach starts to turn in an all too familiar way.

He needed to stop this, and quickly. But his dinner was already coming up and it wasn’t going to wait for him to run to the bathroom. Hell no, he slaps a hand over his mouth, he was not going to throw up in front of everyone.

He gags down as it starts coming up, no, it takes everything in his body to swallow it down, as it grates down his throat and his hand is left shaking.

When he looks up, all conversation is gone with all eyes on him, extremely concerned. God, he looks down at his plate, he really wanted to crawl into a hole and die right now.

“Were you… just about to?” Roman motions with his hand acting as vomit and Virgil takes one moment to look up and nod. With so many eyes on him it was especially hard to look at and maintain eye contact, cause this situation was the pinnacle of embarrassment and he didn’t need their faces of disgust, especially Roman’s. “Ohhhh no, nope, I cannot deal with throw up,” he heard Roman get up next to him and walk into the living room, “Sorry Virge, it's nothing personal. If you throw up then I’ll throw up!”

Virgil scowls, “It’s not like I want to.”

“Oh, Virgil. If you’re sick, you can stay in your room and rest. Maybe give you something else to eat?” Nice offer, but Virgil was not going to let Patton coddle him right now.

“No, no, it's fine. It’s not this,” he gestured toward the food, “I just…” did Virgil really know why he was sick? No, he wished. But he knew where it started from…

“It’s just uh.. pickles?” Yep, just gloss over the years of fearing even the mere thought of throwing up. That is surely smart.

But how do you bring something like that up? Especially to people who just learned your name? “They didn’t smell that good and you know, it hasn’t made me feel good so I’ve been worried about…”

“Projectile vomiting?”

“God Logan, you don't have to say it like that!” Roman shrieked across the living room.

“Well, I think the both of you are taking this situation too seriously. Yes, the idea and action of throwing up is particularly unpleasant. However, simply thinking about the idea and action of doing so, will often make a person feel more sick and increase the chance of throwing up rather than doing so because someone isn't feeling well. Especially if there is a fear of vomit.”

“But wouldn't trying not think about it make you think about it more?” Patton questioned.

“Exactly. It's like—“ A hand slaps over Logan's mouth in a forceful way. Apparently, he was going to say something that he shouldn’t. Great, another reminder that Deceit is a control freak.

Logan is taken back but he seems to understand as he removes his hand, “Well, nevermind. It's like… when Roman has a consistent idea for Thomas but if you continue to force the thought out, the more repetitive and persistent a thought becomes like the new web series he wants to introduce.”

“But… this is the first time I mentioned it?” Roman chimes.

Logan sighs, “This was meant to be an allegory about your b-r-o-t-h-e-r, but I digress.” Well, that made sense. They are particularly close to Thomas’ consciousness and he didn’t know about the others yet. Like Virgil would ever want them to see him.

Virgil coughs, “Well, yeah. But it's not like you can just not think about it when you don’t feel well,” he tries to argue.

“Then why don’t we distract ourselves?” Patton said a little bit unsure, looking at Logan for assurance, who instead looks dead into Virgil’s eyes, “If you’re not feeling well then the best course of action would be to engage in practices to reduce any nausea and effectively rest.”

“Mhm,” Virgil’s stomach doesn’t agree.

“And Roman, you should do the same as well if you are beginning to feel any queasiness,” Logan stands up from his seat, gearing towards the kitchen.

Roman gasps, “I am not queasy! Just a little unsettled,” the prince huffs as he plops onto the couch.

Virgil takes a deep sigh, he can’t believe that just happened. He almost vomited in front of everyone. How embarrassing?

He looks at his half eaten sandwich that he doesn’t feel compelled to eat nor the grapes.

Just breathe. Your stomach hurts but so what? You can deal with it.

But maybe he can’t. And as much as he tries to swallow it again, it won’t stop. No matter what he does, when he’s sick, he vomits. And someone always has to see and never let him live it down. Always clean up after him.

Now is not any different than any other time.

But as he turns to his side anticipating to vomit, there is a trash can? He would have remembered if it was there before. There are hands at the side holding it to him and a watch on one of its wrists.

He isn’t given time to think about it anymore before he vomits into the trash bag and spits the remains of it as well.

“Breathe,” it's not his head saying it this time, but Logan. He looks up to see Logan’s the one holding the trash can but he doesn’t look displeased to be doing so.

Virgil huffs a laugh, “Nice save teach,” he can’t talk without feeling the urge again. However, it quickly leaves this time.

“Thank you. How are you feeling?”

He swallows, “It’s going to happen again,” his knee is bouncing.

“It’ll be ok Virgil. I need you to breathe for me.”

He tries and fails, like his breathing is on pause, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can… Please look at me.”

Virgil squints at Logan, he can’t focus on his entire face so he tries staring at his glasses.

“Okay, good. Now breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Logan follows his own instructions as a demonstration. This should be easy Virgil, come on.

He breathes in through his nose, and as a result, gets a whiff of the vomit steaming from the trash can.

He coughs into the trashcan again, nothing comes out but he couldn’t help but gag.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok Virgil, here… um,” Logan looks up to someone else who swishes by to get another trash bag. Virgil feels bad just staring at Logan like his life depends on it because it does. If he doesn’t, he’ll just hurl again. Ignoring the other pair of glasses that are changing the trash can, he thinks it's Patton who completely disregards the foul one. Now he has a fresh can. Perfect for another round.

He groans at the thought, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry Virge, it's just for the smell,” that wasn’t Logan, it was Patton.

“Mhm, we are going to help you breathe right now. Let's restart.” Okay.

Breathe in through his nose, and he takes in the fresh air and breathes out through his mouth which tasted absolutely awful.

“Uh, padre, teach? I got some water to rinse it out.”

“Thank you Roman,” Logan takes it from Roman and hands it to him. Before they explain why he needs it, he looks up to the prince shying behind them. While he expected him to be disgusted, he didn’t expect him to look worried but also not looking too good himself. He gives him a curt nod however which perks up the prince's mood a bit.

Washing out his mouth is as awful as an experience that he expects it to be, but he spits it into the new trash can.

And afterwards, he can properly breathe, without the guidelines he needed before.

And now the embarrassment has tripled to levels he didn’t realize he could experience.

Virgil sets the trash down and leaves it on the ground.

Logan spoke up, “This was more serious than I thought it was. I apologize, Virgil, for not realizing sooner.”

“You— you don’t have to apologize. Besides, you caught it before even I did.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, we could have done more for you.”

“Buuuuut! I have an idea,” Patton smiles, “Why don’t we make you something to help with your stomach?”

Logan hums, “Ok then. Patton, would you please ensure it's one of these options?” Logan hands Patton a newly conjured list, which he skims over and perks up, “Alrighty.”

Logan turns his attention away from Patton, “And Roman?” Virgil turns his head and realizes that despite Roman standing up earlier, he was sitting with him now.

“Um yeah?”

“You have more knowledge on Virgil’s favorite media so would you please pick something he’d enjoy. However, I perfectly understand if you would like to leave because of your reaction to vomit.”

Roman blinks, “Ohhhhhh,” he has a mischievous smile, “Thank you for worrying but no I’m completely fine.” Roman sings as he runs towards the couch.

”Wait, what are you guys doing?” Virgil croaks.

Patton passes them as he heads to the kitchen, “We’re going to help you feel better kiddo.”

“Uhhh how?” he waves his hand.

“By giving you a good ol’ self care day!” Roman proclaims as he flicks through the tv channels.

“Exactly,” with the snap of his finger, Logan has a unicorn onesie on.

“Is this really appropriate?” Virgil asks.

“Onesies are always appropriate.”

“No! I mean…” he takes a moment to breathe, “What if I just don’t get better? Like I can’t stop vomiting. It’s not going to be fun.”

Patton walks up and kneels to him, “Kiddo, we want to help you get better. No matter how sick you are. Family takes care of each other.”

“That was so cheesy… but Patton's right!” Roman snaps and materializes a beast onesie from Beauty and The Beast, along with that, the tv showcases lists of Tim Burton movies.

When Patton gets up he takes off his cat onesie from his shoulders and snaps it on.

They all look at him expectantly.

While he feels slightly pressured to go along, he is also aware that they probably won’t be mad if he says no. So he does the most reasonable thing he can do and snaps his fingers, “Fine…”

He wears his jack skeleton onesie and Roman shrieks with excitement, “Ok, perfect! Now, we just need some blankets and candles and Tim Burton.”

“Candles may increase nausea so it depends on if Virgil would like some.”

“Uh, that's a nice thought and all but I really don’t want to smell this anymore,” he gestures to the trash can as the acid begins to stink.

“Oh right.”

…

The couch cushions are quite comfortable (even though he was forced not to sit on the top of the couch) but at this moment he was glad. He was glad he was being piled with warm blankets and able to borrow Patton’s heating pad which he should definitely use more often. He was glad he had an empty trash can available in case, and Logan who was ready to change it with no issue. And Roman who provided a nice distraction through commenting over the movie, which he would challenge on occasion.

Instead of a tuna sandwich, he was given a banana, toast, and a package of applesauce which didn’t upset his stomach and tasted pretty good.

While he was skeptical at first, Patton gave him some peppermint tea and Logan of course listed the benefits of drinking tea, hydration, and assured him he had nothing to worry about.

And he didn’t. His mind was empty of things to exactly worry about.

So he was glad. Very much.

“Hey Virge,” Patton whispers to him.

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know that you can tell us anything. We’ll always be here for you, ok?” Patton smiles.

Virgil returns it, “Ok...”

But more than anything, he felt lucky.

Lucky to be surrounded by people that he knew cared about him. They weren’t bothered that he was sick or ever scolded him for his fear. They were here.

He was lucky they were here.

[radioactive-dazey]

Did something new come up with Thomas, or is it just all the stuff with AI and underpaying people and general shadiness? /gen

All that, and just my personal feelings on things. I don't think I've done a very good job of hiding it: I still admire Thomas. But frankly everything he's done has left a really sour taste in my mouth. How are you going to look an artist in the face and say you only aim to lift up their voices, then turn around and underpay the artists working for you? It gets me all sorts of bugged. Truthfully, I do think some of the "problems" people have with him are minor (the only thing I can think of at the moment is people being upset about Virgil's jam being named Cranic Attack; i see why someone would be upset by that, however I personally think its funny (and before anyone gets on my ass about this, I deal with panic attacks)). Its when you stockpile all the "little" stuff with the "major" stuff that the whole picture comes together.

And while there are other major issues I refuse to touch with a 10 inch pole, its the issues with artists that hurt me the most.

Sticking close to his socials and engaging with him on Instagram is adding to my general unease, and stepping back will benefit me in more ways I'm willing to say. I love the fandom; I don't love how it seems to revolve around him. I don't think its healthy for a creator to be so deeply woven into the fanbase.

Here's to 2025. Thomas, do better. And I wish all TS critics, whether they're still in the fandom or not, a very good night.

[miguel-manbemel]

There's one thought that came to me today about Sanders Sides, and specifically the nature of the Sides. So many people have missed one important, crucial point about the Sides. They're not human, and I don't mean that they can shapeshift, appear and disappear and all that stuff. I mean that each of the Sides represents just one limited zone of c!Thomas' psyche, and therefore they're only confined to that zone of Thomas.

What does it mean to judge them as humans? It means many people demand of them the complexity of action humans have, the same capacity to grow and evolve as if they were a fully fledged human, and that, my friends, just cannot happen, because it's not in their nature. I'll try to explain my point. We've seen the Sides learn and grow from different situations they went through in the past, and I say "have we?"

Don't mean they didn't go through the situations, I mean, did they really get a long term growth? In some cases they did, in others, the growth was incomplete or null, because the Sides are only able to grow in their own area of action in Thomas' psyche, and will remain, not oblivious, but, like that student that simply doesn't get how to solve a problem at school, and tries and tries to solve it right, but it just doesn't stick in their head. They will only learn the part of the solution in their area of expertise, and the rest will simply not stick at all.

For instance, Virgil knows if he causes a panic attack, Thomas will suffer and that will help no one, but he just can't help it, it's in his nature to cause panic attacks if the conditions are met. Other example, Roman knows that too much fantasy can be harmful, it can disconnect you from reality and that can break Thomas' heart. He knows, he's been told, but he can't help it. He's literally Thomas' dreams. Same way, Patton cannot escape the morality he was created with during Thomas' growth, Janus can't help making Thomas deceitful, Remus will show his creative thoughts at all cost no matter how it makes Thomas suffer, and Logan will always have problems to put feelings in the equation when trying to find solutions to an issue.

Does that mean that the whole show is a lie and the Sides are hopeless beings that can't learn from their mistakes? Not entirely, because when they face issues, they all face them together as a team, they go through them together and find a global solution that can help Thomas grow.

Then why do they revert back after learning so much about Thomas in the past? As I said, any item the Sides are not capable to learn according to their nature will not fully stick and they'll be prone to repeat problematic attitudes, even if they try not to.

What can be done then? The solution comes from Thomas. The Sides are Thomas and Thomas is all of them, and most important, he knows, or is learning, how to combine the different aspects of himself. In another analogy, the Sides and Thomas are like an orchestra and the orchestra conductor. Each instrument has only access to their partiture and can only play their own sound, even if they know how they're all supposed to sound together, only Thomas has the full information of the song, and only he can tell any of the Sides when to play and when to stand back.

To be fair, Thomas still doesn't have the full partiture ready, he's still writing on the fly, that's why the song is incomplete and both the Sides and Thomas are still struggling, but as the series goes on, the song keeps writing itself, slowly but surely and when it's complete, Thomas will have the full song and will learn how to make their Sides sound perfect in harmony...

Well, most probably, the song will never be fully complete or perfect, but eventually it will reach a grade of completion enough to make Thomas and his Side harmonious enough to make good, melodious songs. That is, eventually, Thomas will know how to be the best of a person he can be, because no one is perfect, but he will learn how to feel good enough, and how to be happy with himself and get as best as he can be.

That means the Sides will learn how each can help the other Sides in the areas they lack expertise so they don't repeat the same mistakes from the past. But they must learn to work together to reach that goal, they can't do it each on their own. When they learn this ultimate lesson, everything will get better for Thomas and the Sides.

[can-i-take-a-stab]

I think one of the biggest problems of the fandom (in terms of the sides) is falling for character facade and over exaggerating character traits/making up character traits based on a singular occurrence. Like;

“Logan has no feelings.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

“Roman is overly confident and full of himself.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

“Patton is a sweet, innocent, angel bean that would never do anything wrong.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

“Virgil is anxious all the time and can’t do anything himself without having a panic attack.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

“Janus is evil and cruel to everyone.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

“Remus doesn’t care about any of the other sides.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

Like, I get it if it’s an au; but when you base it off canon, you gotta try to understand the character. Not saying you have to spend hours digging deep into the character’s personality or whatever, I just think you should try to see more than what’s on the outside. AND STOP MAKING CRAP UP ABOUT THEM AND EXAGGERATING CERTAIN THINGS ABOUT THEM THAT WOULD COMPLETELY CHANGE/RUIN THEIR CHARACTER WHEN EXAGGERATED OTHERWISE- THIS ISN’T THE 2018 SANDERS SIDES GACHA COMMUNITY

Alright, thank you :3

[ts-sides-head-canon]

...ya know what time it is??

Platonic Analogical headcannons.

(There shall also be a bit of Romantic Prinxiety and Intrulogical)

Le go!

Virgil and Logan both have a mutual understanding that sometimes the others can be too much, when they feel this way they just go to each others rooms and just sit there enjoying each others company for a while, generally until they're called out for food.

Virgil and Logan have both learned morse code in order to have a sort of secret language to communicate in, this has resulted in them making their own version of an SOS, SOB, which stands for Sick Of Bullshit.

Virgil is constantly getting Logan into new analogue horrors and ARG's that they then try to figure out together.

On a similar note, Logan and Virgil can have really indepth conversations about cryptids, and they have come to some hilarious conclusions. They think moth man is a cross dresser.

Virgil has introduced Logan to Tumblr memes and such, and the two have many inside jokes. They also do the whole "nice shoelaces. " "Thanks, I stole them from the president." bit.

The only thing the two fight about is the creative twins, namely each one of them thinks they're dating the superior twin, and they're never gonna let the other win.

Loagn actually learned first aid from Virgil, who learned it ages ago from Janus. Virgil also knows how to fight and is giving self-defense lessons to the others.

Lastly, Logan doesn't actually think he's good at helping with panic attacks because of his struggle with emotions, but he is good when Virgil's not fully in panic mode, either when he's starting to calm down or before the panic attack has taken full effect. Virgil often ends up heading to Logan to stave off panic attacks because of how comforting it is to have someone who understands the world.

Hope you like my ideas! Farewell for the moment!

Just woke up from my nap to this! These are so cool, I really love the idea of Logan and Virgil tapping in Morse Code very angrily like:

My boyfriend is better!

No mine is!

[cksirface]

Sanders Sides Quirk AU because I live for crossovers

Patton: Moral Chains

Patton’s quirk, Moral Chains, is an emitter type quirk that relies on the guilt of whoever he is up against. If that person has done things that are inherently morally wrong, then Patton can use his quirk on them. He can summon chains that can be used offensively and defensively. The more bad things that the person has done the harder Patton’s chains with hit and the longer Patton can keep them summoned and be effective! (So basically, his quirk works best on top tier villains who have killed a bunch of people.)

Roman: Dashing Smile

An emitter type quirk! Roman’s quirk allows him to, upon activating his quirk, simply smile at someone while looking at them and instantly they will be lulled into a subdued state and their quirk is 50% less effective! It’s akin to mind control quirks except they can still control themselves but they will be more likely to stop attacking. The longer they look at his charming smile, the more subdued they will become. (Example: a villain is trying to destroy a city and, with the help of some hero gear, Roman can get close enough to smile at them and the amount of destruction their causing based of their quirk drops by half!)

Virgil: Neurosis

Emitter type quirk! Virgil can summon his quirk and with a single touch to someone, stun them into an anxiety-induced state. With a light touch it will summon a general feeling of unease and it can slow the villain down, making them think about what they’re doing and double check things. However, something like a hug could send the villain into a spiraling panic attack, effectively stopping their quirk. However, this is weak against emotion based quirks as it could make them more volatile.

Logan: Chemical Compound

Logan’s quirk allows him to mix and match elements in the periodic table and have them come out of his skin. However, in order to do this, he needs to know the exact chemical structure of what he makes (similar to Momo if you’ve watched MHA lol, she’s like him but toned down to just chemicals). He can make just oxygen or types of acids though it comes directly from his skin and thus can be hard to control at times.

Remus: Spoken Intrusion

Remus’ quirk allows him to, upon activating his quirk, say a singular statement that will become immediately true. This quirk cannot effect others though, only himself. They also have to be simple sentences; an independent clause. No ifs, ands, or buts—literally. (Example: Remus says ‘I have octopus arms!’ And his arms turn into tentacles. However, if he said “I have a rat tail and I have two fish hooks for ears!’ He couldn’t do that as it is a compound sentence.)

Janus: Doorways

Janus’ quirk allows him to create a doorway or path to anywhere he wants in the world. He wants to go to Hawaii? He uses his quirk to make a doorway and he steps through. He can also have multiple doors open at once and anyone can use them which makes for very good pranks.

Thomas: Sanders Sides!

Summoning different versions of himself to help him with moral dilemmas. No one else can see them but him.