#abusive roman sanders | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

warcats-cat · 9 days

Text

Not Far Away

Read on A03!

Read the Original: Long Road Home (also on A03!)

A/N: It's been so long! I'm so sorry! I've been stewing on this for literally months and I just haven't been able to actually *post* it, so I'm cutting it off now and just sending it out into the world. This one is a one-shot that's pretty long, but I do have a multi-chapter sequel also in the works! I just decided I wanted this out first. Special thanks to @thecrowslullaby and @lickoutyourbrains on tumblr for beta'ing this and many other wips for me. Please let me know if I need to add any more tags!

(Takes place after Long Road Home but before Wide Eyed In Wonder.)

-----

Of all the things that would take time to adjust to, Patton wouldn’t have considered the amount of time spent doing nothing, just sitting in the carriage as it drove. Roman wanted to hold the reins almost constantly, and the other three would shuffle between sitting inside and sitting on top of the carriage itself.

The first few days, Patton had found himself fascinated by how spacious the little room was; it looked nowhere near as sizable from the outside. The inside benches were lightly cushioned, so one could stretch and lay down for a nap, and they were long enough to fit two people sitting comfortably. Logan spent a lot of time reading and taking notes, pulling a long desk-tablet down from the wall to keep his writing steady.

Virgil had spent several days trying to teach Patton some dice and card games, using the tablets, to mixed success.

The roof of the carriage was carefully guarded with a railing and gate that had to be hooked into place or Roman would refuse to drive. There was a bench up there, as well, although this one had no padding. (That didn’t stop Patton from sleeping on it occasionally; the steady motion was relaxing enough to ignore the hard surface. And certainly, it was more or less as comfortable as anything he had slept on at Wardenthall Manor.)

But outside of losing games of chance, watching the various roads and woods pass by, or borrowing Logan’s books, there was nothing to do. Patton wasn’t used to being so bored.

He wouldn’t go back to Wardenthall Manor for all the money in the world, but at least when he was there he’d been busy. There were letters to run into town, packages to collect, trinkets to dust and polish and all manner of things to keep clean. He took kitchen duty every other day. And several of the other staff often took advantage of the knowledge that if something wasn’t done, Patton would be blamed for it.

Even when he wasn’t doing chores, he took a lot of time to fix his clothes and blankets, knead used lumps of wax back into some semblance of candles, keep lists of what the manor and his own supplies were low on. Very rarely, when he’d been younger, he would sneak into His Grace’s library to find something to read.

He loved the opportunity to travel, but there was no real busywork until they stopped to make camp, and even then, the others only gave him the lightest share.

He was laying down now, on his side, trying (and probably failing) to discreetly watch Logan as the other man was reading. He could just barely see around the edge of the book from this angle, and looking up, the scholar’s face was lit beautifully by the mid-afternoon light. He looked like a warm painting, almost. His eyes flicked around the pages while his face twitched with the thoughts of whatever he was reading; small smiles or frowns, his lips pressing together as he made a note of something he disagreed with.

That was one of Patton's favorite things about Logan; he annotated all of his books.

It was really helpful for Patton to catch up on history and events; he hadn’t exactly had the best continued education at Wardenthall Manor, not that he’d bring that up to his companions. It was embarrassing enough to be caught not understanding things; he didn’t want to bother Logan with having to tutor him too.

Besides, Patton looked forward to those annotations. They were Logan’s voice, guiding him along the pages and pointing out what was important, what needed to be given more thought. There were also occasionally translations; Logan could read and write in Runic, the written language of spells and magic, and he spent at least part of his time during stops in the various cities and towns they happened upon cross-referencing other languages that may be available for translation. His newest books would have thin strips of ribbon throughout, marking pages that needed further research.

Patton thought he was brilliant.

Virgil would be up on top of the carriage right now; playing with his strings or sketching patterns, ‘keeping an eye out for assailants’. Bandits were apparently a rare but unfortunate hazard of traveling via the main roadways, and though the carriage had some form of magical protection, and all three of his companions were well-seasoned fighters, they tried to avoid violence as much as possible. Incapacitate instead of kill, trap instead of wound; that sort of thing.

Patton was so lost in his own thoughts, he barely noticed Logan’s gaze flicking up and catching him staring. The scholar smiled, although he continued to peruse his pages, and cleared his throat. Patton’s attention snapped right to him.

“Either you find something fascinating in my face, or you are daydreaming,” Logan said, his tone even but with a hint of mirth. Patton felt his face flush, and he stammered.

“Well – I – I mean, I didn’t mean to be staring –“ he jumped to cover his face with his hands, and struggled to get his words in order; almost missing Logan setting his book down and leaning over, gently ruffling his hair.

“It’s all right, Patton. I’m not upset.” Logan’s voice was soft, and although the fairy was still embarrassed, he felt himself calm a little further. Patton shimmied into a more comfortable position, lying on his back, and Logan leaned back onto his own bench. “We should be stopping soon, anyway; I’m at as good a passage as any to pause for the evening.” With that, the scholar folded the tablet back up and set his current book aside.

They were quiet once more, Patton watching the shadows on the ceiling and listening to the sounds of the woods around them. They would have to set up camp for the night, which would finally give Patton something to do. It was his turn to make dinner: and though all they really had was a fire, a spit, a cauldron, and a heavy cooking plate of some sort, Patton found he still enjoyed the activity. His time in the kitchens was probably the most positive memories he had from the past twelve years.

They had some oil left over from some meals in the last town; somehow, unbeknownst to the other three, Patton had ended up wandering into the inn’s back kitchen and been seen by the Innkeeper’s wife. And since he had so much trouble saying no, and his clothes were his typical worn out traveling shirt and pants, she simply assumed he was a new hire her husband forgot to mention, and put him to work.

He was back there three hours before the others found him. Poor Virgil was on the edge of a frenzy, and had little crackles of lightning running through his hair.

The Innkeepers had been grateful, though, and the people staying there quite liked Patton’s cooking, so he offered to keep cooking the second day they stayed over, to give Logan more time in the local library.

At the end of their stay, he outright refused payment, so the group was sent on their way with things Patton considered more valuable than gold - well-rendered cooking oil, fresh vegetables, and a small jar of local wild spices. Really, nothing tasted better than the things clever people could gather from the world around them. All four travelers savored every bite.

They still had a few vegetable scraps; Patton was good at rationing, and had been put in charge of food supplies by Virgil so Roman didn't cook everything in one go and waste all of their good food. The vegetables and some dried venison over a hot cooking plate with the rest of the oil would do for a good, hearty meal for them.

Finally, Patton heard Roman’s high whistle, breaking him out of his thoughts, and he felt the carriage slow to a stop. He sat up a little too suddenly, and shook his head to clear the head rush. Logan was halfway out the door already, and tried to pause to check on him, but Patton pushed himself to his feet and gestured for Logan to go ahead.

Patton wanted out.

Setting up camp was hard work, but at least it was work, and Patton set right to it before Virgil had the time to climb down or Roman could dismount.

The storage box fixed to the back of the carriage was also enchanted; Patton knew there was no way a normal luggage box could hold as much as this one did. He’d packed enough boxes for travelling nobility to know.

Opening the box, the first thing to appear was the tent itself, sturdy canvas rubbed down with wax, wrapped around the poles and nails that would support the fabric and stretch it tight. It was a fairly heavy and ungainly bundle, but Patton managed. He heard Roman say something as he hefted the supplies, but wasn’t quite certain of the words until the Prince appeared behind him, easily swiping the bundle from his arms.

“Hey!” Patton whined, “I was carrying it just fine!”

“Yes, but it’s also your turn to cook tonight,” the Prince said with a sly smile on his face, “I don’t want your arms to get tired.” Patton felt a little petulant, and grumbled wordlessly as he pulled out other supplies for Virgil and Logan to spread out and set up. Virgil took their bedrolls, giving Patton a little kiss on the cheek as he did so, and strolled off to help Roman pitch the tent.

Well, maybe it wasn’t all bad…

Logan was dutifully laying carved stones around the camp; some kind of protection circle that they used every night to ward off anything with bad intentions. Even if this was the first time he was traveling, Patton knew how dangerous the woods could be without protection. He really wished he had the nerve to ask Logan what the runes meant though, since they seemed to somehow ward off regular animals as easily as the supernatural.

Sometime later, the camp was set and protected, dinner cooking slowly over their little fire, and the sun was almost gone completely for the night. Roman was singing some traveling song with a steady rhythm; following the bouncing tune of a music box sat somewhere near the tent. He danced around the fire and occasionally pulled Logan or Virgil in for a few steps. The pair pretended to only tolerate the Prince, but Patton could see the little sparks of joy in their eyes when Roman dipped them or set them in a spin. The three were so sweet together.

Turning back to their meal, the fairy wondered once again just how they had met; how had Virgil gone from the shy orphan boy Patton remembered, to a fierce and protective fighter, and the companion of a Prince. Where had Logan come from, and how had Roman singled him out to be an advisor? When had the three agreed to become romantically involved?

What made them want him to butt in?

Patton frowned, and shook his head again, trying to clear the negative thought. They want me here, he told himself. They asked me to come. They’re my friends.

It was hard to remember, sometimes. Hard to remind himself that, despite everything, he was allowed to travel with them. More than allowed, they often said. And yet, it was hard to take Virgil’s hand carefully when they decided to walk instead of ride, and not think of Logan’s sharp eyes watching from the carriage window. It was hard to feel Virgil’s strong arms around his waist or the mage’s lips on his forehead, and not worry that the Prince was glaring at him for daring to tempt Virgil away.

It was all in his head, but that was the problem. It wouldn’t go away.

“Is the grass around here really so fascinating?” Roman’s voice was suddenly significantly closer.

Patton spluttered and looked up, right into the warm, brown, teasing eyes of the Prince himself, and felt his cheeks turn scarlet.

“I - I wasn't distracted!” He said in a rush, the only thing he could think of in the moment. Roman’s smile only widened, as he leaned in and took Patton’s hand from the stirring spoon.

“Well, then, I'll have to try harder!” The Prince declared, pulling the fairy to his feet. Patton was a little dizzy from the change, and wholly confused; even more so when he felt Roman’s hand ghost lightly over the back of his waist.

Impossibly darker red, Patton stammered and looked away, “I d- I don't know how to dance, Your Highness…” and yet, Roman laughed, and said in a conspiratorial faux whisper,

“Don't worry, neither does Logan.”

The royal advisor let out an indignant ‘hey!’, but Patton couldn't say any more before Roman had begun leading Patton in a slow, repetitive series of steps; softly murmuring praises in Patton’s ear while the fairy stared resolutely at his shoes, cheeks burning.

Roman’s hands were soft, and princely, but he had calluses at his fingertips and on his palms from driving the reins and all the finer work of travel. He swayed with Patton in rhythm as the pair circled the fire, uncaring when the fairy accidentally stepped on his feet or stumbled. Thankfully, dancing was just patterns of steps, and Patton was able to build a little confidence with it as they went.

It was certainly longer than Roman had danced with Logan or Virgil.

They carried on like that for a while, the time becoming a lazy blur; before suddenly Roman let go of his waist a moment and twirled him, guiding him back into a low dip. Patton was dizzy with the low light and flickering fire, the enchanting eyes of the Prince holding his gaze; and he squeaked in surprise, grabbing at His Highness’s shoulder for balance. The Prince was breathing heavily, his eyes sparkling and his smile wide and radiant.

Virgil’s voice came from behind him, breaking Patton's trance;

“Gentle, Princy…” the young mage warned. His voice was playful but protective, and Patton couldn't help but giggle from the ridiculousness of it all. Him, an orphaned half-blood fairy nobody, dancing in the woods with a Prince. And then behind them, his lost childhood friend and semi-romantic partner threatening said Prince, as if Patton was delicate.

As if he was a treasure.

“W-well, he is a gentleman after all!” Patton declared, at the edge of hysterics. His Highness laughed, and pulled Patton back upright; this time grabbing the fairy’s waist firmly and lifting him, spinning around carelessly.

“That was brilliant!” Roman laughed.

Now Patton really was dizzy, and he stumbled when the Prince placed him back on the ground. Another pair of firm arms snaked around his chest, keeping him from falling flat onto his face.

“Gotcha.” Virgil's voice was now low in Patton's ear, the mage’s arms holding him steady as the fairy caught his breath. The closeness and the whisper of Virgil's voice made Patton involuntarily shiver. Virgil held him close, his chest against Patton’s back, and seemed uninterested in letting go as he tucked his chin over the Fairy's shoulder and leveled his even gaze at the Prince.

“I thought I told you to be gentle.” Virgil chided the Prince, but without any real malice to it. His hold loosened, just slightly; a lazy hug that still kept Patton from falling.

Or walking away to tend dinner, like he was supposed to be doing…

Roman stuck out his tongue playfully, teasing Virgil, who huffed. The mage gently pressed the side of his face to Patton’s, knocking their temples together and smooshing Patton’s cheek. A soft gesture, a reminder of when they were little. They’d both tried to explain the action to Logan and Roman, but it simply didn't have words. It was just comfort.

With that, he squeezed Patton’s sides mischievously, making the fairy “eep!” as his most ticklish spots were attacked, and the mage slunk back towards the prince for another dance.

The fairy turned back to his cooking, finding that Logan had, thankfully, taken over so the meal didn't burn. He took the spoon back with a soft “thanks”, and Logan leaned in to kiss his forehead before going back to the carriage for his books.

Patton watched the meat and vegetables sizzle, the fire licking at the edges of the plate. In the dusk, the dancing light was almost hypnotic. He poked and stirred the food, letting the smells wrap around him like warm cloth. His mind wandered back to Wardenthall Manor, to the mornings that were almost peaceful; before His Grace had been awoken and the other servants stirred from their apartments. Roasting slim slices of turkey or wild pheasant, carefully brewing the perfect amount of fancy coffee that was ordered from another kingdom, a whole world away.

His Grace had always been particular about each meal; feasts and parties were another matter entirely, but for his own food he picked careful quantities and ingredients, and had a strict schedule of when each type of meat could be served. His god was a ruler of Order and Purity, and His Grace was firm in the belief of caring for his body and mind, so that he remained in his favor.

Patton wasn't allowed to speak the god’s name on His Grace’s order; he was only half human, his Purity was sullied with the wild blood of Faerie. He didn't know much about the other gods.

A piece of venison popped, spitting a tiny bit of hot oil at Patton’s fingers, and he blinked, landing rather roughly back in the present after tumbling out of the memory.

Patton suddenly realized that the music had stopped, and now his companions were standing next to the tent, Virgil and Roman apparently playfully arguing about something. Logan had wandered off somewhere, perhaps to study nearby flora.

“Guys?” the fairy called hesitantly, looking over his shoulder “Is something wrong?”

Roman huffed, not meanly, and shook his head. “Someone over here has decided to be a Sensitive Storm Cloud about where he sleeps.”

“That nickname was pitiful,” Virgil smiled and gave the prince a playful shove, before turning his attention to Patton in full. “I told Roman I wanted to sleep on the outside tonight instead of the middle, and now he’s throwing a royal fit.” The mage’s smile grew with the verbal dig, and Roman crossed his arms in mock offense. "Roman always takes the outside position in bed, or wherever is closest to the door. He acts like it's to keep guard of us. It's not."

Roman threw his hands up in frustration. "I like being the big spoon ok? I like to hold you both! Slap me, why don't you?"

Logan appeared just then, and with a mischievous smile that was rarely seen, he reached up and smacked the back of the Prince's head as he walked past.

"Hey!!" Roman spluttered, this time with real shock and indignance.

Logan smugly returned his arms to their neutral position clasped behind his back, smirking to Virgil and Patton as he walked back to them.

“I was only following your express orders, your Highness.” he said, teasing heavily apparent in his voice.

Virgil was laughing heartily at this exchange, and Roman continued to splutter, before his face changed to rigid frustration and determination. He grunted, and Patton had a few moments of panic wondering what the Prince would do about this offense. Logan was still walking away, and before Patton or even Virgil could say anything, he charged at the scholar.

Patton would have screamed if he wasn't choking on his own tongue.

Roman deftly grabbed Logan's sides, and there was a short cry of surprise as Roman lifted the scholar up over his shoulder; acting as if the other man was a particularly ungainly log. Logan squawked, and swatted at the arms holding him.

“Put me down, you brute!” he thundered, but there was a smile breaking out on his face, and Roman was laughing too, and Virgil was recovering from his own mirthful fit. They’re fine. Everything is fine. Patton tried to take in a few steady breaths as he turned back to the stewpot, although he felt his face heating once more from embarrassment.

They loved each other. They were playing. No one was mad and everything was ok.

His Grace had never been one to act in violence, preferring others administer the lessons Patton was to learn. But the set of his jaw, the darkness in his eyes, were always the first sign that Patton had screwed up. There had only ever been one time His Grace had handled the situation himself - an important business discussion over dinner, when Patton had inadvertently insulted another Lord and cost His Grace a vital land contract.

He’d backhanded the fairy so hard the bumps of his knuckles left bruises that were tender for almost a month. Patton learned better than to speak unprompted after that.

He had no idea how much time had passed before Patton felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the Prince watching him with soft, concerned eyes. The fairy was suddenly aware that all three men were staring at him, and that his whole body was shaking.

“Are you alright?” His Highness asked, keeping his voice low. Patton nodded stiffly and fixed his attention back on their dinner. It was almost ready.

“Just – J-just – ah… Startled, I guess.” He stirred the pot mechanically; three times clockwise, three times counter-clockwise, and over and over again; internally begging his hands to stop shaking, and swallowed the lump in his throat harshly. “Worried Your Highness was offended…”

Even coming out of his mouth, the word sounded silly. Felt silly, even.

The Prince sat rather ungracefully on the rock next to him, the hand on Patton’s back moving to wrap around his shoulder. The contact was warm and steadying, despite a few minutes ago. Roman was a Prince, yes, but Roman would not hurt him.

“Were you worried I would hurt Logan?” Roman asked. His voice was still ever so soft, and there wasn't a hint of accusation to it, just concern. Patton shrugged, looking back down into the stewpot.

“I don't know…” he replied after a few beats of silence. “I don't think you ever would; I know you wouldn't! But you looked angry, and your eyes changed, and… I…” he huffed, frustrated and unable to string his thoughts together. He felt his face heat up, and his shoulders hunched slightly.

“I’m sorry I worried you, dove,” Roman murmured, and Patton’s heart beat just slightly faster at the nickname, although his cheeks still burned with shame. “I’m sure it’s hard to go against the instincts that protected you for so long.”

Patton shrugged at this, staring down into the pot and quietly continuing his stirring, feeling the Prince’s thumb rub over the curve of his shoulder, as their sides were pressed together, just slightly.

“It’s stupid,” he whispered finally.

“Not really,” Logan’s gentle voice floated around them as the scholar sat on Patton's other side. “The fears you have now are what kept you safe for twelve years of your life. The way that you watch others and keep notice of their faces and body language gave you a keen intuition of each situation you were in. You are a survivor.” Patton didn’t know what to say, effectively surrounded with comfort and still trying to stop his quivering. He shrugged again.

Logan’s slender fingers brushed Patton’s jaw, and gently took his chin to make Patton turn, locking eyes with the scholar. Crisp, midnight blue eyes fixed into his own.

“You. Are. A survivor.” The scholar repeated, softly spoken and yet the tone firm.

Patton felt tears rising up, but he was hesitantly smiling all the same. Still, he sniffled, and the smile wobbled.

“I just… I thought I was getting better…” his voice was watery, holding back tears. He gently pulled away from Logan’s hold to wipe at his eyes.

“You are.” Virgil's voice murmured in his ear, taking a place standing behind them and once again wrapping his arms around Patton.

And a blanket that he had apparently pulled from the carriage or the tent at some point.

“It’s only been three months. You were under that prick’s thumb for twelve years.” Virgil spoke quietly, and nuzzled his cheek against Patton’s, mirroring the soft way they had snuggled together as children. “You're allowed to still feel afraid. We’re here to support you, however you need, okay?”

While he calmed down, it seemed Roman had taken over their dinner; serving out portions and pulling apart a loaf of bread to compliment the meal. Logan had gone to fetch water for them all. The forest was growing dark around them, the crackling campfire casting its flickering glow around the four.

They ate, and chatted idly, as Patton watched the sunset shrink lower and fireflies flicker higher. The world grew softer, and warmer, somehow, as it became dark. Once again, Patton found himself enjoying the other three’s easy camaraderie; listening to them laugh and tell stories, watching them slowly slide closer and closer together.

It wasn't that Patton wasn't interested in a relationship, and they had certainly offered, many times, for him to join them at night. He knew it was largely just to sleep, as well. But he still felt a bit… bashful. Even though they'd seen every scar a hundred times over, he still hesitated when it came time to change for the evenings, or when Roman wanted to go swimming if they passed a river or lake. He felt the scars creeping up his back like fresh little snakes, imagining them shiny red and tender like the first day Virgil had changed his bandages.

And that didn't even begin to account for nightmares. They were more and more rare, as he moved farther and farther from Wardenthall Manor, but still there. And the risk was too high; waking one or all three in the middle of the night because he’d bitten Logan’s hand while holding it instead of his own to muffle a cry. It was easier to keep it all inside his own tent; his own bedroll, and his own mind.

Still, it didn't stop him from watching, and wanting, just a little. The light gentleness the three of them seemed to have; they way they fit together like pieces of a well-oiled puzzle box. He wondered if there was a space there; a place where they said he would fit just fine, but he wasn't certain. He had to keep looking; afraid the box would break if he wiggled it wrong.

He would figure it out. He just needed more time.

#warcats writes #sanders sides fic #ts fanfic #Analogicality #ts lamp #lamp #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #fairy au #fantasy au #Long Road Home #tw child abuse #tw past abuse #tw food #tw cooking #ask to tag

8 notes · View notes

author-chan06 · 4 months

Text

Remrom story idea:

Roman and Remus’ parents are the worst, but they both react differently to it. Remus thinks about how little his brother laughs now because their parents constantly told them that their laughs were too loud. Roman thinks about how much he wishes he could laugh happily like Remus still can. And they eventually talk about this and comfort each other (and kiss :3)

#Whatdya guys think? probably gonna write this in a couple weeks #op is a proshipper #proshipper safe #op is a comshipper #comshipper safe #fic ideas #remus sanders #roman sanders #remrom #tw: child abuse #sanders sides au #sanders sides

14 notes · View notes

tss-whumper · 9 months

Text

christmas when you're alone - i

some lovely roman christmas angst for the soul.

merry christmas eve to all who celebrate! this story is for those who love a bit of sadness during the holidays. or in this case...a LOT of sadness.

2.3k words (i plan on coming out with a part two soon that's based on a request! all you rosleep fans out there will be a big fan of it, wink wink!)

(cws -> emotional/psychological abuse, guilt-tripping, toxic parental figures. also, patton and janus are the main "whumpers" so to speak while logan, remus, and virgil are more like bystanders. this is just a very sad day for roman.)

Christmas was one of Roman's favorite holidays. Everything about it to him was nothing short of spectacular--the lights, the beautiful music, and most of all, the Christmas spirit. The giving and the wishing and the believing. Roman really, really liked the believing. After all, what was Christmas without the magic?

This year, Roman was determined to create the best Christmas yet. After a turbulent year with a lot of hurt feelings, Roman figured that a fantastic Christmas would be the best way to make everything perfect again. So he worked tirelessly on decorating the house, making sure there were elements to the decorations that everybody enjoyed. Sentimental ornaments for Patton, tasteful silver string lights for Logan, golden candlesticks for Janus, a gingerbread graveyard for Virgil, and a creepy-looking inflatable Santa for Remus. While none of it was particularly Roman's taste, it did look cool when it was all put together, like a kaleidoscope of Christmas spirit, aesthetics bumping into each other and mixing together. And besides, it didn't matter if Roman liked it. Christmas was about giving, after all! And Roman would do anything to make the others happy with him.

When the house was finished, Roman started on creating and wrapping his gifts. Being Creativity, he had the entire universe at the tips of his fingers. He could give anybody anything he wanted, as long as it fit in the mindscape. So he tried very hard to give everybody gifts that would be meaningful and sweet, and he wrapped them with gentle care. Roman wasn't particularly good at being gentle or careful, but it didn't matter what Roman was good at. All that mattered was his friends' reactions to his beautiful and thoughtful presents. He desperately wanted to see them happy, but he was also worried about what might happen if they weren't happy.

Thinking about that made Roman's stomach twist, so he distracted himself by blasting "All I Want For Christmas Is You" while taking a shower with hot-chocolate-scented sugar scrub.

---

The month zoomed by faster than anybody had anticipated, and before he knew it, Roman was waking up on Christmas morning. And everything felt perfect. He could smell cinnamon rolls being baked in the kitchen, and the cheerful chatter of his friends. Being a heavy sleeper, Roman was used to being the last one awake, so he was quick to get himself ready so the rest of the group wouldn't have to wait on him for much longer.

After putting on a red sweater, brown pants, brown socks, and a reindeer headband, Roman felt ready to go. He smiled a few times in the mirror, just to make sure that he looked perfect. Then, he walked out, joining all the noise and bustle that his friends were making seamlessly.

The cinnamon rolls were warm, the conversation was silly, and everyone seemed to be getting along. Roman just sank in his chair, taking in all the celebratory atmosphere as if it was more valuable than oxygen. Everything was going so well. It felt too good to be true.

Probably because it was.

"Roman, what took you so long?" Janus asked, "Was getting your hair and makeup perfect more important than having breakfast with us?"

His question was carelessly flung into the air with a teasing attitude. The words stung Roman like a slap.

"I don't have any makeup on," Roman replied, trying his best to keep a smile on his face, "I got ready as fast as I could. I'm sorry, I must have slept in a bit more than usual. You all weren't waiting too long for me, were you?"

Silence hung in the air like a cloud of fog, until finally, Patton spoke up.

"It's okay, buddy! We learned our lesson now. Next year, we'll just start without you! That should motivate you to get up on time."

Roman winced, his cheeks burning as Logan and Virgil chuckled, and Remus dove into another cinnamon roll. His eyes felt hot as Janus stared at him with a cruelly amused expression, his gaze practically boring into Roman.

This was going to be another hard day, wasn't it?

---

Things started to go even more downhill when presents were being opened. Roman struggled to stay still, so excited about both his gifts, and the gifts that others were receiving, that he found himself constantly squirming in his spot on the floor, surrounded by crumpled up wrapping paper and shiny new items.

"That one's from me!" Roman exclaimed eagerly as Virgil opened up a new pair of black Converse. "They're high-tops, see? And they're platform, because you said you wish you could grow taller for Christmas. Now you can! And look, there's spiderwebs on the bottoms! I painted them myself!"

"Wow..." Virgil said, putting on the shoes and walking around in them. "Cool. Thanks, Roman."

The air turned cold, and Roman started to feel very, very uncomfortable. Virgil seemed happy with his gift, but everybody else seemed upset. Roman didn't understand. Was something wrong with Virgil's shoes?

"Roman, do you- really think that was a sensitive choice?" Patton asked, "How would you feel if someone got you a gift targeting something you're insecure about?"

"Insecure about?" Roman asked, his heart leaping out of his throat, "What- what do you mean? I didn't mean to do anything wrong!"

"Stop attacking Patton and answer the question," Janus hissed, his eyes narrowing.

"I-" Roman choked, looking around the room for any semblance of support. He didn't understand. Why was this happening? He thought he'd gotten Virgil the perfect gift. He looked at his list and picked the one thing that seemed impossible. The one wish that Virgil added, but didn't expect to receive. What was so bad about that?

"Are you just going to sit there and look stupid, or are you going to apologize?"

Even Logan was doing this now?? Roman tensed up. His heart started to pound, and his hands trembled against his will. He slid them under his knees so nobody else would see how afraid he was. After all, that would probably make everyone madder.

"I'm sorry, Virgil," Roman whispered, his voice too watery to speak any louder. "I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I just wanted to get you something thoughtful."

"Thoughtful," Janus muttered under his breath with a short laugh, exchanging a glance with Patton, who quietly giggled. "Is he even capable of thought?"

"It's...whatever, Roman," Virgil said awkwardly, "They're cool shoes. Can we just move on to the next person?"

Everybody else carried on, perfectly normally, as if nothing had happened. But Roman just couldn't. Tears stung the corners of his eyes, and he repeatedly squeezed them shut and opened them, trying as hard as he could not to cry in front of all of his friends on Christmas.

When it was his turn to open a gift, Roman smiled when he saw that it was from Janus. The past gifts Janus had given were lavish and extravagant, and Roman loved things that made him feel even more like royalty. He carefully unwrapped the golden paper, and tried to mask his confusion as he held up a very, very large book. It was incredibly heavy, to the point where his muscles were straining while he tried to read the cover. And when he did, he felt like he was going to die.

A Comprehensive Guide to Manners and Etiquette.

As everyone else read the title, they started to laugh. Remus high-fived Janus, and Patton snorted, hiding his smile behind his hands.

"Look, Roman, it's extra convenient for you," Janus said, "See? It's almost as big as your ego."

This caused the rest of the group to howl with laughter, and Roman to bow his head, quickly swiping a hand over his cheek before anybody could catch a glimpse of the tear that had fallen as his heart broke on what was supposed to be the most magical day of the year.

But no matter how Roman felt about it, this was a present. He had to do the polite thing.

"Thank you, Janus," he said, cringing at how choked up he sounded.

"Aww, you're welcome, Roman," Janus cooed, "Merry Christmas."

He patted Roman on the head patronizingly, and Roman felt like he was going to suffocate. He was only able to breathe again when the attention was off him, as Patton opened his next present.

Roman tried to steady his breathing, focusing on what everyone else was receiving. He laughed at their jokes, marveled at their presents, and pretended like everything was perfect. It really wasn't much different from performing onstage. All he had to do was play a character. He just had to be the happy, indestructible Princey that everyone wanted him to be.

But that was much easier said than done. Even when Roman stopped speaking, the insults and cruel remarks continued.

"A megaphone! Better not let Roman have it."

"I love this poetry book. It's way better than all the sappy shit Roman writes."

"Roman, aren't you happy with your gift? Now when you feel like being an attention whore, you can write in this diary instead of whining to us about how the lipgloss you ordered is the wrong color."

"This is the last time we let Roman decorate. Look at how gaudy this room is. It's almost as loud as him."

It.

Didn't.

Stop.

The world was spinning. Everything was going wrong, and Roman couldn't understand why. He had tried so hard. He did everything he could to make the others happy, putting in hours to prove that he was more than the selfish, egotistical, bratty caricature that they berated him constantly for being. Maybe Roman was being stupid, thinking that things would be different today just because it was Christmas. But now, Roman was experiencing his very first Christmas in which his biggest wish didn't come true.

He just wanted a day where he wasn't being berated and teased for every move he made. If it was really that hard for the others to resist pulling their tricks and humiliating him, then maybe Roman was the problem. Maybe he had messed up too many times, and was now irredeemable. He would always be the evil twin. The stupid one. The bratty bitch who always ruined every room he walked into. The egotistical one who needed to be knocked down a peg. It wasn't fair. Couldn't they see he was trying? What more did he have to do to prove that he was more than his past mistakes? If groveling and changing everything about himself to the best of his ability wasn't enough, maybe it was time for Roman to give up. Maybe he was going to have to resign himself to being the first punching bag in history to wear a crown and a sash.

"Roman, what are you doing?"

Roman blinked as he heard Patton's voice, stopping his zoning out as he realized something dreadful. His shoulders were rising and falling sporadically against his will, and his breathing was audibly stuttered. Everybody was staring at him with wide eyes, and something salty and wet settled in the groove between his lips.

He was crying. Not just crying--sobbing. Uncontrollably.

"Oh, great, here we go again," Remus sneered, "Little Princey didn't get exactly what he wanted on Christmas."

"That's not why I'm crying!" Roman choked, "I have to go-"

Hands tightly grasped onto his shoulders, pushing Roman back down into his sitting position before he was able to get far off the ground. Janus smirked at Roman as the creative side flinched.

"You're not going anywhere," Janus said, "On a family holiday? What would Patton think?"

"Ro, I just don't understand," Patton cut in, "Why do you always have to make everything about yourself?"

"You totally just killed the vibe," Virgil added quietly.

"We were having fun before you had to go and put a damper on everything," Patton added, "You're ruining Christmas, Roman."

As Roman gazed around the room, he saw not a shred of sympathy. Not even a hint of curiosity or recognition pertaining to why he was feeling this way. Why he was choking on his own tears instead of laughing and having fun like everyone else. Nobody cared. Nobody wanted to keep Roman around except to further embarrass him.

His tears were funny to the others. To them, he was nothing but a sad clown.

"Please let me go," he begged, "Please. I'm sorry. I just need some time in my room, and then I won't do anything wrong for the rest of the day."

"Maybe you should go to your room," Logan said.

"But maybe you shouldn't come out," Janus added, "What do you think, Patton? Is it too harsh to give him a time-out on Christmas?"

"The better question is, can we trust him not to be a whiny little bitch for the rest of the day?" Remus chirped.

As the group deliberated over whether or not Roman had a right to celebrate his favorite holiday with his dearest loved ones, the prince shut down. He closed his eyes and stopped fighting for air through his gasps and sobs. What was the point? What was the use of doing anything if every day was going to be like this?

Roman didn't even push back when Janus carried him to his room, placing him on his bed and locking the door behind him with a magic seal.

How did the fun sound so much louder when Roman was far away from it?

As Roman curled up under his blankets, he let himself cry fully, knowing that nobody would be able to see him and ridicule him anymore. His sobs echoed off his walls, dissonant with the joyous laughter that taunted Roman outside his door.

He really was all alone, wasn't he?

---

taglist -> @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @amazon-me-bitches @izaachehim

(let me know if you want to be tagged in the second part!)

22 notes · View notes

npdfavs · 8 months

Text

Roman Sanders from Sanders Sides has NPD! ( headcanon )

— submitted by anon

#roll call #ur fav has npd #npd headcanons #npd safe #actually npd #narcissistic personality disorder #actually narcissistic #narc abuse believers dni #roman sanders #sander sides #sander sides roman

17 notes · View notes

crip-writing-shit · 2 months

Text

More essay

did you really think I would only over analyze and project onto Doctor who? If so you have been sorely mistaken. Behold my latest creation! Roman Sanders is a surprising good representation of a sibling abuse survivor! Like to ao3 chapter here or continue reading here

head up for non specific talk of child abuse and neglect

I will be trying to write this drawing from cannon only however I have been in the Sander Sides fandom for quite some time and so not all of my characterization will be completely accurate, I am aware that Remus and Roman did not have conventional childhoods with parents as they are only metaphysical but due to the nature of humans dysfunctional sibling relationships occur within a greater family and society with all that said and done let’s get into the meat of it.

A “glass child” is a term used for a sibling of someone with higher needs than themselves and thus the glass child receives very little of the caregivers attention leading to them feeling see through like glass. Glass children most often have medically complex siblings but in cases where a child’s behavior is so dangerous or undesirable that preventing it or limiting damage takes allot of focus and effort from the adults around them the sibling will often end up being neglected, in some cases the glass child will have to assist in caring for their sibling. Roman is very clearly desperate for attention from the other sides, he wants to be praised and looked at and admired. His ego is very fragile perhaps do to his being put aside in order to deal with Remus. When guardians are trying to protect the glass child they may end up keeping things from them because “they are too young to know” or leaving them out of the conversation. We see this in Roman in the beginning of “Dark Side Of Creativity” desperately asking his fellow sides to tell him what is happening and then refusing, he is then knocked out and unconscious for the entire discussion including its resolution, and at least on screen no one thinks to clue him in as to what all happened with his brother.

Sibling abuse is often dismissed and a rivalry or spat but when one sibling has more power over the other out of age, strength or, fear it is known as abuse. Sibling abuse like any other abuse can be Mental, physical, emotional or, sexual in nature and because society doesn’t recognize most cases of sibling abuse the protections in place for abused children let victims of sibling abuse fall through the cracks. Many of sibling abuse cases are what’s called “out of parental control cases” meaning that the parent is not the abuser and cannot stop the abuse easily. These cases are a conundrum because most often putting one or both siblings into foster care would only traumatize them more and so children are forced to remain in unsafe homes, “doesn’t sound like a very fun house” as it was put. Growing up with an abusive sibling we couldn’t discuss what happened during there episodes for fear of the guilt triggering another episode and so I was left out of the loop as Roman is through the episode. Logan wasn’t seriously hurt by Remus while Roman was not only because of belief but because Remus has power over Roman, Roman is cannot be safe from his brother the way the other sides are and with that in mind who do you think Remus takes the frustration of not being able to hurt the others out on? It’s no wonder Roman is so scared of becoming like his brother, is so desperate to rip off anything he has in common with Remus, even though they are family, due to their nature they have more in common with each other than they do other sides and that fact haunts Roman.

Patton prefers Roman. Roman is praised more often in “ The Dark Side of Creativity” more often than most any other episode in the series, but most of those compliments are just because he’s not his brother. “Roman is good!” Unlike Remus “Roman is brave!” Unlike Remus “Roman’s function is important” unlike Remus’ Roman is desperate for praise and yet the strongest praise he gets is when he’s asleep and used to hurt his brother. Roman is the favorite because Remus is the least favorite.

Being abused by a sibling especially one close in age leaves you abandoned by the protections for other abused children, it leaves you isolated from you family while still carrying the burden of being “the good one” it can leave you terrified of becoming like your sibling and sets you up to continue being in abusive relationships.

#sander sides #sander sides analysis #Sander sides essay #Roman sanders #Remus sanders #actual ptsd #Ptsd #child abuse #child neglect #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #Thomas sander #thomas sanders sides #tss #sanders sides

6 notes · View notes

brandstifter-sys · 4 months

Text

I'm Here, You're Safe

@dukexietyweek Day 5 - Horror

Word Count: 4307 (Ao3)

Rating: T+

Characters: Roman, Remus, Virgil

Pairing: Dukexiety

Warnings: Major Character Death, abuse mention, religious abuse mention, gore, body horror, spiders, cannibalism (sorta), spider!Virgil, transformation, sex mention

Please heed the warnings.

Remus would rather be anywhere than the place he grew up, but his brother needs his help clearing the old house out after their mother passed away. The horrors in his head have to be worse than reality, don't they?

---

Sometimes Remus wondered if he was cursed. Sometimes he wondered if the monster under the bed was real. At least one monster was out of his life forever.

Remus really did not want to come here. The old dingy house was so far removed from civilization, surrounded by trees. He could still see the tire hanging from the large oak in front of the porch, and he could see a black SUV parked beside it.

So Roman got here first. At least he wouldn't have anything nice to say about her either. Remus decided that maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

He parked his old truck next to Roman’s car and got out, expecting the noise would summon his brother.

When Roman didn't come running to scold him, Remus figured he was lost in old memories. That was something Remus couldn't bring himself to do.

He wanted to jump back in his truck and leave the bitter past behind. His mother was dead and she could rot, just like this house.

He loathed the creak of the old steps as he approached the weathered old door. The last time he heard that sound he was running for his life. The last time he was ready to kill.

But any negative feelings faded when he reached for the handle. There was a jumping spider sitting on it, staring at him.

“Hey little lady,” he chuckled softly, “Pardon me, I need to get inside.” He grabbed the handle carefully and turned it, but the spider didn't move. And she didn't move when he stepped inside and released the handle.

“Thank you, sweetie!” he giggled and waved to the spider before closing the door. His real challenge was just beginning.

The hall was similar to the day he ran away. The hardwood was a little worse for wear and the staircase to his right was covered in cobwebs, but the fake plant and umbrella can were still there. The old walking stick was still in the corner, and it still had brown dried blood on it. His blood.

And then there was the door under the stairs that led to the basement. Remus' blood ran cold as he stared at it. The cruelty of hell couldn't compare to the memories that basement held. His usually disquiet mind screamed at him, flashing glimpses into his past right before his eyes.

“I'm here, you're safe now” words meant to soothe him after breaching the surface in tears

“There you are!” Roman's irate voice cut through his fog. He was in the archway that led to the den, hair out of place and eyes red from exhaustion.

“I called and told you there was a tractor in front of me. Or maybe you wanted me to run over old Billy Bob Joe Bob,” Remus scoffed. Check your voicemail before you get pissy.”

Roman sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew better than anyone that it was a miracle Remus even agreed to help.

“Fine. I already sorted through the china and knickknacks and gathered the documents in the safe,” Roman said with a yawn, “We still have to clear the basement and move the majority of the furniture to your truck.”

“It's a lot of work for this dump,” Remus commented and stretched his arms above his head.

“And you only have to deal with it for one day,” Roman huffed.

“Did you find a motel around here?” Remus pouted. The drive here was not an easy one.

“My bed is still upstairs. It's the only room I cleared of spiders. They're everywhere!” Roman said with a shudder.

“That's why you need me—to clear the basement, isn't it?” Remus pouted. That was the last place he wanted to go.

Roman said nothing and returned to the den. That was certainly one of the reasons he needed Remus there. He also needed Remus' truck, his old little piece of shit truck. They had to remove some furniture.

Remus relented and followed him further inside. His skin crawled when he saw how little had changed. Sure, everything was covered in webs and dust, but that was the only stuff he didn't remember. The old TV was still standing on a stand. The crosses and religious pictures still hung on the wall behind it. The old armchair was still positioned right in front of it. He almost didn't want to get a closer look at that chair.

“It's odd,” Roman said from the kitchen, “She died in that chair at least three years ago but it looks rather pristine.”

“That's really weird,” Remus agreed and peeked at the seat of the chair. There were no stains, only dust. It didn't even smell like a body rotted away in it. The only thing that stood out was a large orb weaver spider crawling on the arm.

“We're throwing it out regardless. Who would want to sit on that?” Roman scoffed, “This is disgusting work.”

Remus stepped into the kitchen and saw that Roman was throwing away old food from the cabinets. He was scowling at the unopened cans, reading the expiration dates and then throwing them in a large black trash bag.

“So what do you want me to do now?” Remus asked and sat on the kitchen table.

“You can clear the fridge or start in the basement—go through the boxes and see if there's anything of value,” Roman said and grabbed an open cereal box, “Albums, antiques, anything like—

Dear Zeus!”

Remus jolted when Roman threw the box across the room, letting it skid across the floor to the back door.

“What the hell?” Remus snapped.

And then he saw exactly what scared Roman. A large wolf spider crawled out of the cereal box. She had a ton of spiderlings on her back and she was trying to get away.

Roman grabbed a can and held it, ready to attack.

“Put that down—she won't hurt you,” Remus scoffed and got up. He knelt by the spider and held out his hand. He was pleasantly surprised when she crawled onto his palm.

“How can you stand to touch that thing?!” Roman yelped and inched away from him.

“Easily. It's like holding a hamster,” Remus responded and stepped out the back door. He set the spider down on the porch.

“You take care, Momma, keep yourself safe,” he said softly and went back inside.

“This house is infested!” Roman complained and slumped against the counter pathetically. Remus rolled his eyes and grabbed a trash bag. He was going to deal with the fridge.

“It's not so bad, and they're easy to relocate,” Remus said and braced himself. Whatever was left in the fridge would be fouler than a few leggy babies.

He expected the rancid stench of rotting meat, the sour odor of curdled milk and yogurt. There would be mold and mildew, maggots and rotting vegetables.

He should have grabbed some gloves and a mask, but he couldn't bring himself to care when he wrapped his fingers around the handle.

EEEEK!

Roman screeched when Remus flung the door open and hundreds—no thousands—of spiders poured out of the refrigerator.

“Looks like no food went to waste!” Remus beamed as the spiders scurried across the floor and up his leg.

“How are you so calm around these beasts!?” Roman panted, clutching his heart.

“Because they're harmless. They might look creepy crawly but they're doing their own thing,” Remus countered and peeked in the fridge. It was completely empty, save for a ton of webs, a bottle of hot sauce and a couple styrofoam meat packages. Clearly the spiders had their fill!

“Get down from there,” Remus scoffed and grabbed everything from the fridge. He promptly tossed the garbage in Roman's trash bag and dusted off his hands.

“You and your spiders!” Roman huffed and got his feet on the floor, “They’re menaces, just like you.”

“You wound me, dear brother!” Remus laughed and went back to double check the fridge. He didn't want to remind Roman that he was worse than just a menace growing up. Their mother was one of those fire and brimstone types, and he was the epitome of sinful.

“Oh please, I could never land a hit on you. Besides, I left your old room as it is, so you can roll around in all your spiders.”

“You cleared your room?” Remus paused and glanced back at him. Roman was throwing away old cans and boxes, acting like he was focused on his task.

“As I told you before, yes. I used up all my hairspray and accidentally set the curtains on fire. But I was able to get a few hours of rest,” Roman said flatly. Remus shuddered at the idea. He knew what it felt like to burn.

His back was still scarred, just like his psyche.

Fire...

“That's fucked up, and that's coming from me!” Remus said and closed the empty fridge with shaking hands. He still had a few spiders crawling on his leg, tickling him, keeping him from slipping into dark memories. It wasn't working.

“I would be more merciful if it were just one or two, but they were quite literally everywhere. I had to do it if I wanted to sleep.”

“The old bag of bones thought she had to do so many things, and she didn't!” Remus snapped and slammed his fist against the fridge. Roman was taken aback.

“Remus,” Roman said gently, “perhaps you should take a few minutes outside. I don't know the full extent of what happened to you here, but I can see it's bothering you.”

“Of course you don't! You're Mommy's little angel. If you want to know what fucked up shit happened look in the basement. We both know you never went down there!” Remus snarled and grabbed at his hair.

“Remus—” Roman hesitated. Remus was shaking, his knees knocking together. He had tears running down his cheeks.

“If you want to burn the spiders, burn the whole house down with them!” Remus huffed and stormed out the back door.

Roman was left with a slack jaw. He never really paid attention to the times when he would be allowed out while Remus was grounded. He knew that their mother was fond of corporal punishment. How much worse could it have been than the spankings he knew about? Surely Remus was just more sensitive to them than him.

Curiosity clawed at the back of his mind, like a feral cat trying to escape a bath. It ate away at him. He knew he was a horrible brother to Remus, tattling on him, pushing him away when he was desperate and lonely, never once covering for him when he snuck out for the most innocuous things.

What was in that basement? What horrors were hidden below?

He couldn't concentrate. Roman was throwing everything in the trash without checking the dates anymore.

He needed to know.

Roman finally tied the trash bag closed and sighed, glad that task was done. He could always go out and check on Remus, but those words echoed in his skull.

Look in the basement

Roman stepped out of the kitchen and made his way to the staircase. He was almost afraid of what he would find. If it wasn't the horror Remus implied, it would be spiders. So many spiders.

But when he approached the door, Roman was surprised to find that there were no spiders crawling on it despite the vast number of webs nearby.

He took a deep breath and pushed his unease aside. He would have to go down there anyway, he might as well scope out the area.

He opened the door slowly, expecting the spiders to be on the other side. He was both relieved and unnerved when none jumped out at him.

With a flick of the light switch he steeled his nerves and made his descent.

Meanwhile, Remus was at the edge of the woods, leaning on an old tree and trying to calm his head.

Sinners must be penitent. They must disown their pride.

He could still hear her voice, so calm and patronizing. His back burned with the ghost of the rod. He ached as if he were trapped in that small space again. He shivered as if his clothes were gone.

“I'm glad that bitch is dead,” he muttered to himself and dried his eyes, “And after this I never have to see that whiny bastard again.”

Remus couldn't believe that he agreed to help Roman. After years of claiming Remus was exaggerating, ignoring him, pushing him away, Roman had no right to ask for his help. He just had to play the brother card. If Roman actually cared about him, Remus wouldn't be so reluctant. No one here ever seemed to have cared.

No one who was real. Remus could still remember one person, an imaginary friend or a hallucination, and that person cared. Remus almost wished they were real, that Virgil was a real person who he didn't have to name. He missed hearing them comforting him from under his bed. He missed the way they would sing him to sleep and listen to him.

He laughed to himself at some of their conversations. They had always shown interest in his ramblings about spiders and bugs, ocean oddities, and horror movies that he had watched at a friend's house. He even remembered telling them that he had a crush on them, even though they were just a voice in his head.

“I'm here, you're safe now…”

And he believed Virgil every time. At least until he didn't come back.

---

Roman made his way to the bottom of the stairs. The dim light made everything seem so sinister. The unfinished walls and boiler were covered in cobwebs, and the ceiling was white with a full blanket of spidery weaving. At least the light was untouched.

He could feel eyes boring into him. Stalking him from the shadows. He felt like a deer in the fields, hunted.

But then he noticed it, standing next to the boiler. It was old and rusty. Or maybe that brown stuff wasn't rust. He could hardly believe his eyes.

A cage meant for a large dog. It was sitting there, as if it had been there for years.

On top of that cage was a bible, a branding iron, and a leather belt. And leaning against the wall was a thin cane.

Roman’s heart sank. How many times did he put Remus through hell inadvertently? How many times did he think it was justified to get his brother in trouble?

The hair stood on the back of his neck. The odd feeling that he was being watched was stronger. He could taste the venom in that gaze.

It was too quiet...

He could hear his pulse thundering in his ears.

Roman couldn't move his feet, locked in place and staring at the instruments his mother used to “purify” his brother.

The walls seemed to move around him, webs shifting and swaying. There had to be hundreds of spiders hiding in their mesh.

It was time to leave.

It had been time to leave for a while.

It was too late.

Roman screamed as something heavy fell on him, pounced on his shoulders.

He hit the ground with a weight on his back, pinning him down.

A searing pain ripped through his shoulders, like knives were piercing his flesh. His eyes welled with tears as an agonizing cry tore from his throat.

And then the world faded to black.

---

After two hours of calming down, Remus was ready to face the house again, as opposed to the woods at night. He would tell Roman what he could about his experience, move some old furniture, and then leave. He was exhausted but he didn't care, he needed to get away from this place.

His body was heavy with fatigue as he trudged through the grass to the old building. The only thing that he could think of to keep him from spiraling as he neared was his imaginary friend. With any luck he would be able to hear them again.

Remus entered through the back door into the kitchen. The lights weren't on but it looked like the trash was ready to go to the dump.

Still, he couldn't shake the odd feeling that something was wrong.

Roman would have come running to check on him, or to demand his help. Maybe he was on the second floor and didn't hear Remus come in.

It was just so quiet…

...

Too quiet…

Remus chalked up all of the discomfort to his trauma and his mental health tanking.

As he moved through the kitchen to the den, he failed to notice the spiders following him. He failed to notice that they weren't scattered across the furniture or in their webs.

What he did notice made his heart stop.

The basement door was open. The light was on.

Roman actually went down there.

He would have to go down there if he wanted to find Roman. He didn't. He didn't want to hear any apologies or alleviate any guilt. He only wanted to leave. But to do that, he needed to get the unsalvageable furniture in his truck, and he needed help with that.

Remus' hands trembled as he reached for the handrail. His heart rate spiked as he slowly descended the stairs.

Nothing bad would happen to him.

She was dead.

Roman wouldn't have the guts to try anything.

He could destroy this place.

Remus glanced around the room. There were more spider webs than he remembered, so many more. They were like curtains on the walls. He avoided looking at the old cage for his own sanity, but scanned for any sign of Roman.

But there was nothing.

“Roman?” Remus called out, half expecting that Roman ran away as soon as he saw a spider.

That's when his eyes landed on the cage.

There was a large bundle of webs next to it. Large enough to encompass a person.

Remus inched closer to confirm his worst suspicion.

Roman’s head stuck out of one end of the bundle. But it was emaciated, skin taut and suctioned to his skull. His lips were thin and pulled back to reveal his teeth.

His eyes were gone. The empty sockets were like voids. There was no blood or fluid, just deep holes in his skull.

Remus should have been more concerned about finding his brother like this, and he would have to take it up with his therapist later, because he felt nothing. No anger or sadness, no joy, no fear. Emotional exhaustion couldn't be the only explanation.

He could hear skittering overheard.

Whatever did this to Roman was still there.

And he was fine with being next.

Thud

Remus knew something was behind him, something big. Probably the same thing that killed Roman.

“It's been a while,” Remus chuckled and turned around, “And the one time I come back is the one time I won't leave.”

He was not at all horrified by the giant spider standing in front of him. It was the size of a wolf, fuzzy and black, and its eyes shone with understanding. Its fangs were bright purple and stained with red, but it made no move to attack.

“Oh, you're pretty!” Remus noted with a small smile. If he was dessert, he would be happy to feed a beautiful creature like this.

The spider inched away from him and reared back on its hind legs.

Remus was in awe as the creature quaked and bulged, its exoskeleton cracking. Its first and last pairs of leggings expanded and shortened, cracking as they took on a human shape. It kept morphing its entire body, stretching and shrinking just so, and turning Remus on in the process.

“Okay, I retract my statement,” Remus gawked. The person standing in front of him had four spider limbs coming out of his back, deathly pale skin, and gorgeous shaggy hair. His human eyes were purple and full of mixed emotions, while the four just below them were beady and black. The only shame was, that this person was fully clothed in jeans, a tee, and hoodie.

“You're fucking hot!” Remus gasped.

“What?!” the spidery man yelped. Remus knew that voice. He knew that voice better than anyone.

“Virgil?” Remus asked as his face split into a grin.

“You remember,” Virgil muttered.

“Of course I remember! You're the only person who believed me and you comforted me! Ooh—are you saving me for dessert? I'm a tasty snack!” Remus gushed and clapped his hands.

“What the fuck? No! You haven't done anything to warrant that,” Virgil bristled, “He killed my children. I grew up watching him ignoring the horrors you went through and what he didn’t do.”

“Your children?” Remus pouted, “The spiders? But they're all different species.”

“Do you really think I can create spiders without a mate?” Virgil scoffed, “I'm their guardian, a sort of spirit type thing.”

“So I have a bestie who's a spirit and I have a heart boner for a spirit?” Remus gasped and bounced on his heels.

“I’m not a spirit, I’m not sure what I am—wait. You do?”

“Yeah! You're the only thing I missed when I ran away,” Remus giggled, “I hated leaving you behind.”

Virgil was blushing, backing into the wall shyly. Remus couldn't handle the fact that the terrifying monster was so cute and flustered.

Remus bopped up to him and pressed against his chest.

“I want to be all yours, even if that means we fuck and I become dinner for your children,” he purred and stared up at Virgil.

“I killed your entire family and ate them,” Virgil muttered, “And you actually want—?”

“I do! I would become a little leggy baby if I could, if it meant I could stay with you!”

“What if you could be like me?”

“A sexy spider spirit thing? I would kill for that!” Remus beamed.

Virgil ran a hand down his cheek and cupped his chin. Remus was in awe, staring into his six eyes.

“That's something I can do,” Virgil said and leaned down. Remus vibrated with excitement.

The second their lips met, Remus melted into Virgil’s chest. Virgil wrapped all of his arms around Remus and held him close.

Remus moaned softly when Virgil took his lower lip between his teeth. This was too good to be true.

And then a searing pain shot through his gums. Remus cried out, but Virgil didn't pull away, he held Remus tighter.

Remus' legs quaked and his blood boiled. All of his muscles burned and turned to goo. He could feel himself peeling away from his skeleton while his skin tore open to make way for chitinous plates to take over.

Virgil retracted his fangs and gently laid Remus on the cold cement ground. The cold ground felt heavenly against him.

“The pain will go away soon,” Virgil said softly and stroked his hair, “I’m here, you're safe.”

Remus could have sobbed at those words. They were so comforting, enough to numb the pain.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't cry. He couldn't see. He could feel his flesh peeling off his skeleton, his brain and spinal cord liquefying and seeping out of their boney prisons.

“It's almost over, Remus,” Virgil said softly, “You're holding up so well.”

Remus writhed and contorted. He couldn't scream when two new pairs of limbs erupted from his torso. And then his mouth sealed shut and two more limbs sprouted from his face.

And then the pain stopped. His vision came back, although much different than before. Virgil was kneeling beside him, smiling at him.

“You’re cuter like this,” Virgil hummed and helped Remus stand on his eight legs. Remus chirped and wiggled his abdomen, unable to speak. He wanted to speak.

“You’re too weak to transform,” Virgil said, completely understanding him, “You need to eat.”

Remus was hungry. There had to be food somewhere. He could smell fresh meat.

Virgil stood and let him scurry about. Remus would find food.

There was a large lump of webs on the ground. The source of the smell.

He didn’t have a second thought before he jammed his chelicerae into the lump and liquefied the flesh. It didn’t occur to him what was in that web bundle, only that it was sustenance.

By the time he was sated, the skin on Roman’s skull had melted off.

With a little bit of willpower, Remus reared back on his last two sets of legs and morphed into a humanoid similar to Virgil. He was grinning and clapping like an excited child.

Virgil pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek.

“I’m here, you’re safe now, and we can leave this shithole behind, together.”

“Can we burn it to the ground and cuddle?” Remus asked and glanced at the floor. The pair of skeletons on the ground should have been terrifying. One of them was his! He ate his own brother! He should have been disgusted. But all he could feel was elation.

“Let me get everyone out first, and then we can,” Virgil hummed, “I wanted to watch you destroy this place and the people in it for years. Revenge is sweeter when you do it yourself.”

Remus giggled and kissed him again, just a quick little thing to make his spider blush.

“You’re sweeter than any revenge. Let’s clear out the babies so we can cuddle by the fire,” he hummed. Virgil scooped him up and smiled softly.

“You want to do more than that.”

“You know it!” Remus laughed. He was thrilled that he could find happiness in the worst place in his world. And he had just the spider to keep it there.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #dukexiety #roman sanders #dukexietyweek2024 #day 5 #abuse mention tw #religious abuse tw #gore mention tw #major character death #roman dies #cannibalism mention tw #body horror tw #spider!virgil #spider mention tw #sandyscribed #i expect this to flop because it's actually horror

8 notes · View notes

typically-untypical · 2 years

Note

Nobody talks about how Logan has begun to drink a concerning amount of alcohol in recent episodes. Maybe a fic about his new found coping mechanism?

You my dear anon are a person of a discerning palate. I have been thinking about this for a while but didn't think about writing anything on it. Apparently, I had a lot to say though because this fic ended up being a little over 2.7k

That being said there are a lot of Content Warnings: Alcohol Abuse, Violence, depression, isolation, and self-hatred, so everyone please read with caution!

PS to my Tag list: Sorry I didn't tag y'all in all of the other ones I've posted this week, I wasn't using my own computer so I didn't have easy access to the list!

Logan didn’t have a problem. A problem would constitute that it was affecting him in ways that were unexpected. Logan knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how it was affecting him, and exactly what the outcomes would be. He was logic, and he was smart enough to make the choices that needed to be made to make him most efficient. His new founding coping mechanism might be less than healthy but addictions were tied to emotional triggers, and he was Logic, he didn’t have emotions. He wasn't addicted and the moment that this wasn't the most logical option for processing his stressors he would stop.

He would have no problem stopping.

Looking down at the empty bottle of wine that sat on his desk, Logan sighed, pushing himself out of his chair. He was desperately trying to lie to himself. Even he wasn’t convinced it hadn’t become problematic. He was spiraling, and Logan was aware of it. It used to be that a single glass at the end of the day would help his frayed nerves but now he was drinking at least a bottle a day, if not more. Whatever it took to keep himself from feeling the world around him. He wasn't supposed to feel. He just wanted to be numb.

Numb was so much easier than the screaming echoes in his head.

With a snap, Logan cleaned up his room, looking around what used to be a calming place for him. At one time his room had been his pride and joy, awards from childhood, Thomas' diploma, everything that Logan had worked hard to build. Now it was a monument to his failures, a life they could have had that was abandoned along with him.

After cleaning up his room, Logan had to sit back down. That was a lot of energy for someone not completely sober, and a lingering thought in the back of his head told him that he had earned another glass of wine but he could feel that maybe he needed a glass of water, just this once. Cleaning up his room felt like giving himself a new perspective. He summoned himself a water, sipping at it lightly. It was nice to have everything looking so clean, it was relaxing. It made him feel better to have the area looking clean again after so long. There was a small bit of hope in him that maybe he could keep his room clean, but he knew it wouldn't last. It wasn't just the bottles, it was his mental state, the things he was constantly trying to pretend that he wasn't feeling. However, maybe for just a little bit longer he could pretend like everything was okay, like he wasn’t being ignored, like his function hadn’t been relegated to ‘comic relief’, like he had actually found his answers at the bottle of the bottle.

Time wasn't kind. He couldn't sit there in his world of fantasy much longer. Despite all of the turmoil in the mindscape, Patton had been trying to maintain movie night, a tradition that had started when they had accepted Virgil. Things had felt simpler back then. Watching Big Hero 6 with everyone else after Virgil had convinced Roman that his choice sucked, had been entertaining. Now, everything was strained. Patton let Roman get away with everything he wanted, Virgil was on the Prince's side, and Logan was left to fend for himself, if he wanted to fight at all. Honestly, he had a feeling all of this was going to fall apart. The sooner the better, he didn't want to have to deal with the three of them but he continued to out of obligation. It served no purpose for Thomas to continue to fight himself. In what little ways he could, Logan wanted to support Thomas' growth as a person, even if it meant he got left behind.

“Hey Logan!” Patton said with a smile that looked a bit forced. He was trying his best, but they all knew it wasn’t enough. As Logan looked at the fatherly side he could only see the panicked look of frustration and fear as he hit the "Skip All" button, as he shoved aside Logan's commentary.

“Patton,” he responded with a nod, sitting down on the couch in the same spot he always took. He didn't want to add to the stress Patton had been experiencing. Logan was trying to be the best logic he could be, he wanted to support everyone's mental health, he had been trying to change, but it didn't feel like enough.

He could already feel his buzz wearing off and he rubbed his temples, debating on if he was going to try to make it thought movie night as he continued to grow more sober, or if he was going to continue on his bad habit? Roman was glaring at Patton, refusing to say a word to him. Virgil refused to make eye contact all together and Logan felt his headache grow. “You look awful, nerd.” Roman had always been like this, he pushed and teased and did whatever he wanted. He said cruel things not because he was cruel but because he had so little of a filter. HE was more like his brother than he realized sometimes. Normally, Logan just let it brush off his shoulders, much like he brushed off Remus' morning star but today... he just couldn't handle it anymore. He conjured himself a glass of wine, sipping at it slowly. He didn't want to feel anymore.

As Roman put on a movie, Logan could feel Patton staring at him. Logan was sure that Patton was judging him, silently trying to figure out how to bring up the conversation without being rude. Well the joke was on him, that wasn't possible, not if he wanted to get the information he thought it was so important he needed. Logan ignore him, just like everyone else had been doing to him. At least, he did until he had finished his glass and Patton continued to stare. At that point it was just annoying. “Is there something you need?” Logan snapped, eyebrow raised, irritation written into every harsh crease on his face.

Patton hesitated, if he had any good sense about him he would drop it, but of course he didn't. Logan knew only a few of the sides had brain cells and Patton wasn't one of them... maybe he was being to harsh... no, after everything that had happened Patton deserved worse, and it wasn't as if he was saying any of this out loud. "You've been drinking a lot of wine recently, are you... are you enjoying it?" He chickened out of the question he was going to ask. Of course he did, it was Patton.

"This was a decent vintage, I have it simulated from one of Thomas' memories."

"Oh, well... I'm glad you are enjoying it. You should be careful not to drink too much though, it's not healthy for you."

Logan looked at Patton, eyebrow raised. "Patton we are metephisical beings, drinking doesn't even make us drunk unless we choose for it to do so." He stated, waving his hand as if that fact was obvious.

"Well... it's um... it's just unlike you kiddo."

“First of all, I'm not your child, and second of all, I am allowed to pick up new habits as they suit me.” If Patton wanted to continue to dance around his point, the Logan wasn't going to entertain him and give him the information he wanted.

And apparently Patton wasn't going to ask. “Yeah, you're right, I just... I wanted to make sure you were aware of the change. You know sometimes we start picking up habits and we don't even realize it."

"Leave the nerd alone," Roman called, "If he wants to drink let him drink." Logan was both thankful that Roman cut in and frustrated.

He was aware, he was drowning and all the three of them could do was push him aside as they continued their next fight. Roman came to his defense, but he was completely ignoring the fact that Logan needed help. Silence once again fell over the room, the only sound being that of the TV in front of them. The wine in Logan's stomach churned and the itch to grab something stronger ran up his spine. There was a part of him that was thankful Patton had dropped the subject, a part of him that was thankful Roman had stopped their conversation. He didn’t want to talk about the unhealthy nature of his coping mechanism and all of the other things he already knew. He just wanted to be left alone. However, there was another part of him desperately crying out, begging for someone to notice he was in trouble and needed help. He was desperate for the care which might make him break and truthfully answer the question Patton refused to ask. “I’m very much aware," He answered, gripping the side of the couch. How could he not be?

He was aware he had a problem; he was aware he needed help, but the numbness was so much more preferable to the pain. Loud intrusive thoughts plagued him during the day, and if he didn’t self mediacate, they would almost assuredly win. What was a side to do when they realized that they were no longer a useful part to the human they cared for? He needed to cope more than he needed to stop himself. He wasn't willing to admit the truth that waited for him in sobriety.

No one was going to offer him a helping hand, so he was going to do what he needed to do.

The quiet was no longer the calm of a movie night but the tenseness from an unfinished conversation. Patton was fidgeting and Roman and Virgil eventually looked back at the two of them. There was something in both of their eyes that Logan couldn't pin point, but he wasn't comfortable under their gaze. “I will be returning to my room.” He stood up, pushing himself from the couch, maybe that wine had been a little stronger than he thought. It was fine, he could continue to pretend, he had a lot of practice in it. Honestly, he was thankful to have an excuse to leave anyway. He hadn’t come down to be judged, and he had no intention of staying here if all they wanted to do was stare at him and make him feel guilty for the way he was coping with the pain they caused.

He swayed a little bit as he reached the top of the stairs, hand on the wall to keep himself up. It didn't feel like they were staring anymore, maybe this was just one more time that they wanted to get rid of him. He summoned a bottle, drinking a heafty swig before disappearing it.

He was fine. Everything was fine.

The world was spinning, but he had nothing else to do tonight. He didn't have to work and he could just slip into unconsciousness. As he entered his bedroom, he found the whole floor covered in empty bottles, glasses, any kind of container that had once held alcohol. What was more, he knew each one, the bottle he had just drank from a moment ago was sitting on his desk. They were all staring at him, mocking him and he recoiled, hand on the door handle. He had just cleaned his room, all of this should be cleaned, instead in was meticulously placed as if to mock him. Was he really so drunk that he was starting to hallucinate? He knew he had a problem, he just didn't think it had gotten this bad.

“Hello Chemisty Solution, get it? Cuz that’s what you smell like.” Remus was laying on his bed, looking at him. There was a smirk outlined on the chaotic man's face. He didn’t normally have issues with Remus but after the incident with Thomas’ schedule…. After one more person had helped him be pushed away!

“Out,” He growled. Logan snapped to get rid of the bottles, but they didn’t move. This had to be some fuckery that Remus was pulling to prove a point. Fine, Logan would just do it the old fashion way. He began picking them up one by one.

“Now where is the fun in that?” Remus watched him like a hawk, this was the exact reason that Logan had left the Movie night. He didn’t need to be judged. He wanted to cope in peace where no one else could give their two cents into how he could fix a problem they caused. “Y’know, Jannie says you are going to come to your sense and reach out for help, but I think he underestimates how stubborn you are, so I’m taking over.”

Why should he reach out for help from a prince who never listened to him, an emo who called him the least favorite, a father who refused to listen to anyone's voice other than his own, a gremlin who wanted him to suffer, or a snake who benched him? Why would he reach out to any of them?!

“Get Out,” Logan stated again, frustration and anger pouring over him as he fought to grab one of the bottles that was sitting on his floor. Bending down like that was hard, he almost lost his balance but he refused to lose his dignity in front of Remus. He refused!

“Nah, I’m here to stop you and force you to look at the consequences of your actions or some shit.” Remus was acting nonchalant, laying in the bed as if this were a normal conversation between friends but he didn't get that privilage.

Logan could feel his blood boiling, his anger pouring off of him in waves as he threw a bottle towards Remus’ head. He shouldn't have done that, but the anger felt so good. The bottle shattered next to Remus and Logan could feel his body getting hot. “You don’t get to play the hero when you are part of the problem!” Logan went to grab another bottle, ready to throw it again, but Remus wasn’t on the bed anymore. Instead, he stood in front of Logan, holding onto the other man’s wrist tightly. He was stopping Logan from expressing his anger, stopping him from lashing out but this was the most he had felt in weeks. He wanted the anger, because it was the only emotion that didn't leave him feeling like a gaping hole had been shot through his chest. He didn't want to see the pity in Remus’ eyes.

“I want you to go crazy," Remus' voice was surprisingly calm and quiet, "but this isn’t what I meant. You need to throw that anger somewhere where it will be constructive, or you’re just going to get consumed by your own flames.” No, he didn't get to lecture Logan. He didn't get to try to be a savior.

Logan fought and struggled against Remus hand. He didn’t want to hear this. He had been fighting alone for so long, when he was hurt no one reached out to him. He wasn't going to lay down his weapon just because someone was finally acknowledging that there was a problem.

"Remus, let me take over." That was Janus, his voice also smooth and calm as Logan felt Remus disappear. Janus took his place, but he led Logan's hand down, no longer raised in a form of aggression. "I'm sorry Logan," He whispered, and for a brief moment Logan almost felt like he was going to get the apology he wanted, but instead, Janus continued. "This is going to hurt, but you need to let yourself feel all of it."

Suddenly the buzz and the anger were gone, instead replaced by everything both had been trying to mask. Tears began pouring down Logan's face as he almost collapsed to his knees, caught by Janus' other arms.

"Please, I don't want to feel, I don't want..."

"I know," Janus cooed quietly, "But you need to. If you are going to get over this, you are going to have to feel all of the pain you've been hiding."

Logan collapsed into Janus' chest, his legs having already given out.

"Please, I don't want to feel anymore."

Tag List: @simplestoryteller @fantasticfangirl21 @joylessnightsky @melaniidarling

#Untypical Creations #Sanders Sides #Sanders Side fic #Fanfic #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Remus Sanders #Janus Sanders #alcohol abuse #Depressed Character #Violence #Logan Angst

119 notes · View notes

nyxwordsmithwrites · 9 months

Text

Chemically Imbalanced Chapter 40

Trigger warnings: violence, unplanned pregnancy, immigration problems, abuse, spousal abuse,

Jose couldn't believe that his son was sitting in front of him. Years had passed since he last saw him and he'd all but lost hope for a reunion. But here they were. Roman, his son, had become an adult in the time that passed. The reunion was bittersweet to Jose as it reminded him of just how much of his son's life he missed. Remus and Roman chatted as though no time had passed which only made the guilt he felt sting more.

Virgil shifted in his seat and moved a cup of tea towards Jose, "You look like you might need it just as much as me." He offered, trying to lighten the mood when he'd noticed that Jose held his tension in the same places as Roman.

The older gentleman sighed and rolled his shoulders attempting to release some of the tension, "I--thanks." He replied, taking the hot ceramic cup and letting the heat ground him. The next time he looked up he saw Roman looking at him, "Roman." He offered quietly, "I don't even know where to start or how to explain." He said quietly, looking back down at his tea not daring to look at Roman for fear of seeing resentment or hate.

"Just like in the Sound of Music, the beginning is a very good place to start. " Roman offered with a smile, watching his dad and taking him in. Even though it had been years there was something so familiar about him, that familiarity brought safety.

Jose let out a wet chuckle, "Alright then. The beginning it is."

There was no denying that it had been love at first sight. Jose had been studying abroad for a semester when he met Natalie. The whirlwind romance was one for the ages. They quickly went from strangers to never seeing one without the other.

Their friends had said something about how they were too dependent on each other however both of them brushed it off. Those comments only made the two of them seek each other out even more.

When the semester came to an end Jose tried to convince Natalie to come back home with him but was met with resistance.

"I don't want to move. What if it upsets the baby?" Natalie worried, resting her hand over her nonexistent bump.

Jose nearly fainted right there as he took in his beautiful Natalie, she stood near the window with the setting sun behind her casting a bright halo around her making her look angelic, "You're pregnant?" He asked, leaning heavily against the bench for support.

Natalie turned towards her boyfriend with a bright smile and nodded, "I am."

With those two words, Jose's fate was sealed. He would do anything to be there for his child. Natalie had never looked as beautiful as she did at that moment. He quickly moved towards her and spun her in circles, quietly whispering near her ear in his native language about how happy he was and how he couldn't wait to be a father.

_____________________

Jose did his best to provide for them but unfortunately, immigration policies that had been put in place did not work in his favor. Eventually, Natalie stated that the visa process and the money were a waste of time when they could just get married. With their marriage came the ability to earn more money with better-paying jobs due to his visa.

But the marriage had been more out of necessity or obligation than love. For years Jose had tried to get a visa through the legal channels and had poured so much money into the process. He had his second thoughts about the marriage especially when they were really struggling and he'd picked up any overtime that was offered. The reason for the overtime was two-fold. One was because they needed the money as Natalie insisted on being a stay-at-home mom. Two he dreaded going home every night. If he didn't work overtime Natalie yelled that he was good for nothing and tried to starve their son to death. On the other hand, if he worked overtime Natalie became suspicious and accused him of cheating on her. Of course, neither of these were true but after hearing them so often it felt like maybe she was right.

With a better-paying job and more manageable hours, Jose finally felt like he was able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. All that changed after Remus was born.

____________________

There was something different about Natalie after Remus. She looked at the child like she feared he might spontaneously combust or perhaps she was wishing he would. She had never looked at Roman that way. Jose thought maybe he was just seeing things since her behavior towards Roman hadn't changed.

After a long shift, Jose came home and found Natalie barricading herself in the kitchen with a knife pointed at Remus. She was shrieking and crying as she watched her son. It was impossible to understand what she was saying and honestly, Jose wasn't sure he wanted to know.

His eyes went to Remus who was sitting up and looking at his mom, reaching his hands out for her but by the look in Natalie's eyes she didn't even recognize the child as her. The first thing he noticed about Remus was the blood around him that was coming from his hand.

Jose picked up Remus and took him and Roman to the bathroom so he could patch up his son. He would likely never know how Remus got injured as that day Remus stopped talking to anyone but Roman.

This was the first time Jose considered that maybe Natalie needed help. He did his best to keep Remus away from her and ensure that he had everything he needed. Jose also tried to urge Natalie to seek professional help but if anything that only made things worse. Even when he suggested Roman and Remus go to therapy he was met with resistance by Natalie.

When Jose had brought up seeking help Natalie had screamed and cried for hours about how she was trying her best and maybe if he did more this wouldn't be happening

Without Natalie's knowledge, he did manage to take both of his sons to therapy. Jose couldn't care less what Natalie's reaction would be if she ever found out. This was in the best interest of his children.

At this point, Jose was half convinced that this was normal behavior. There were times after the fact that Jose went over all of the days leading up to the end that he tried to pinpoint if he'd missed a sign but everything seemed normal.

One day he came home from work with Remus on his hip to find the house trashed. There was a letter amongst the wreck from Natalie that said she was taking Roman and leaving. That Jose was no longer the man she married and she couldn't take it anymore. Upon reading that letter Jose knew he should've felt sad or ashamed but he couldn't help but feel relief. That Remus was safe, he was safe. The only thing he was worried about was Roman. How he'd ever find his son or ensure that he was okay. There was no telling what Natalie would be capable of. Thankfully, she hadn't shown any aggression towards Roman but Jose knew that it wasn't safe for Natalie to have him.

After Natalie left Jose never stopped looking for Roman. However, there were very few people who wanted to assist an immigrant in finding his child. He'd told his story many times and found that most people just stared at him and came to the conclusion that his wife was abused and running for a reason. During his search child protective services had been called on him multiple times as anyone who listened to his story assumed that Remus was also in danger. Thankfully these assumptions were unfounded and he was able to take care of Remus on his own.

_______________________

Years had passed and Jose had stopped telling people his story. This didn't mean he'd stopped looking for Roman but he mostly used the internet or prayed that somehow they would make it back to each other.

The day has been like any other day when he received a text from an unknown number claiming to be Roman. Jose was hesitant to believe it at first as it seemed so impossible but upon further investigation he realized it was actually Roman.

It took everything in him to be patient to schedule a meet up. This was his son they were talking about. A son he never thought he would be allowed to see again. With the reconnection came the hard part of trying to explain to his grown son what had happened. But it felt like all he had were excuses. That he hadn't tried hard enough or been a good enough father.

______________

Once he'd said his part Jose hazard a glance at Roman and saw that his son had tears streaming down his face, "I'm so sorry." He pleaded, needing his son to understand.

Roman shook his head, "Dad no." He whispered, wiping at his face and feeling Virgil's hand on his thigh rubbing small circles, "you did so much for both of us." He added, "She--she always told me you left."

"I promise you I didn't. I have spent all of my free time looking for you." Jose assured, setting his hand on the table near Roman and instantly relaxing when he grasped his hand.

The teen choked on a sob, "I believe you." He whispered, squeezing his hand.

Those three words broke all of Jose's resolve. Roman believed him. His son didn't blame him. He didn't hate him. Jose swallowed hard, "Roman. Can I have another hug?" He asked gently, trying to let his son set the pace.

Roman immediately got up and wrapped his arms around his father, not even allowing him to get out of his seat, "please stay."

Jose whimpered and leaned into Roman any attempt at trying to pull himself together shattered by his son's request to have him stay.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #fight tw #abuse tw #flashback tw #unplanned pregnancy tw #chemically imbalanced

9 notes · View notes

always-anxious612 · 1 year

Text

Close Calls

Uh, wow, it has been so long since I posted a fic, heh. This is actually an old fic from a while ago that I never posted. Recently I decided to revamp and edit it. There may or may not be one or two more chapters in the works but I was also thinking of leaving it here. Let me know if you want more of this!

Description: Prince Roman has gotten plenty of scrapes in bruises in the past, and he doesn't see how one more stab wound is that big of a deal. His dearest Virgil, still just a nurse in training, begs to differ.

Genre: hurt/comfort

Pairings: Prinxiety

Warnings: injuries mentioned, mentions of past abuse, homophobia mentioned (I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything or if you need something tagged!)

Word Count: 2,014

Chapter 2

“Of course, it’s infected,” I sighed, rubbing a hand down my face in frustration. “You should have gone to the royal physician when you came back, and not me. “Yeah well, maybe I didn’t wanna,” the prince in front of me huffed petulantly. I rolled my eyes at him, and stood, examining the stab wound that rested a little above his hip. I’d stitched it up a few days before and had come back to check on him as I had promised. Unfortunately, he was complaining that the pain was getting worse instead of better, and, well, here we were. “Seriously, your highness, why won’t you just go to the physician? This seems pretty bad. It’s swollen and I don’t want the infection to spread or get worse. “Oh, we’re playing that game,” Prince Roman scoffed, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, “I told you not to call me that He looked so tired that I gave in much quicker than normal, groaning and rubbing my temples at my growing headache “You’re being too stubborn, Roman,” I grumble “You’re a nurse. It’s basically the same thing,” he muttered.

“No, you idiot, it’s not the same thing. I didn’t even have the right tools with me when you called for me last time. All I had was what I managed to smuggle from the clinic without drawing too much attention. And if someone had told me what had happened before I came, maybe I could have gotten the right supplies. I didn’t know you’d been stabbed. I should have just reported this to Logan and let him handle it. Maybe we wouldn’t be here right now if I had,” I ranted, plopping down on the edge of his bed where he was lounging.

“…But you love me, so you’ll still keep this a secret for me, right?” he grinned sweetly, leaning closer and reaching up to try to cup my face. I glared at him until he sat back again with a pout.

“You are so lucky that I’m more concerned about your stupid health right now than arguing anymore,” I grumbled as I got to work tending to his wound.

“Aw, come now, stormcloud,” he countered, still pouting, “at least it’s an excuse to see you again.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him.

“Yes, I just love being responsible for the prince getting an infection and then having him argue with me for the millionth time seeking about actual medical health.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” he tsked, reaching over to brush back my hair. I promptly swatted his hand away and glared at him again.

“No fun,” he sighed petulantly.

“You know the rules, Roman,” I reminded him with a sigh of my own.

“Yeah, well, coming here and doing this is against the rules too, but you’re still doing it,” He pointed out, huffing in irritation.

“Under protest.”

“I think a little touching in my own room is fine, Virgil. You’ve said you loved me before.”

“…Under protest.”

“Was not,” Roman muttered, snorting.

“That—I shouldn’t have said it, ok? You know that we’d get in a lot of trouble. It would just cause problems for both of us,” I huffed, glancing up at him before refocusing on my work.

Roman opened his mouth, probably to argue some more, but cut himself off with a flinch.

“That hurts, Virge,” he hissed, pulling away a bit.

“Well, obviously. It’s a stab wound Roman,” I spat out, glaring at him, “and I’m trying to clean it; so, hold still.”

He huffed but did as instructed, and we fell into a tense silence. I’d made a mistake in telling him I loved him, obviously, because he never let me forget that I’d said it. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing late one night when I was fixing some bruises on his face. He had been acting so sweet, but he looked so broken, and I poked and prodded until he admitted where the bruises had come from. It would have been so much better if they were just from him defending the nearby city from the raids that had been plaguing the kingdom for quite a while. It would have been ok if they were from one of his stupid quests to who-knows-where because he wouldn’t tell me about them but always came back bruised from them. It would have been fine if he’d been out training with the knights again and got a little carried away.

Instead, I cursed his father and the fact that he was the beloved king and that Roman couldn’t do anything about that. I cursed that his father had said he wouldn’t relinquish the throne until Roman found a suitable queen to rule by his side, and I cursed that I wasn’t a born girl of noble blood so that I could be that for him. I cursed that us being in love wasn’t enough. I cursed everyone who found it disgraceful and lowly that he’d fall for a servant; and everyone who found it disgusting and sinful that he’d fallen for a man. I had a lot of curses to give out, apparently. Too bad I didn’t know a suitable witch.

Pushing away those thoughts with a grimace, I refocused on cleaning and wrapping Roman’s torso. Luckily my hands had been moving on autopilot during my little internal rant, and I was basically done at this point. I sighed, staring at the place I knew the wound was underneath the bandages, hoping I’d done enough to stop the infection After all, I was still just in training to become a physician. I hadn’t even gotten through all of my training to become a full-time, work without supervision nurse yet, despite what Roman seemed to think.

Speaking of Roman, he was zoning out, staring at a spot on his bed, and I just grew more worried at the slightly dazed look in his eye. This infection could have serious consequences if it got much worse.

“Come on, Princey, please let me take you to Logan,” I tried one more time, already expecting the answer I’d get. Couldn’t hurt to try, right? He paused for a second before blinking and shaking himself out of his stupor.

“No, Virgil. Just—please. You know that if my father finds out about this, he’ll—he’ll forbid me to go into town anymore at all,” he begged, “he’s already banned me from helping fend off the raids—”

“Which you obviously ignored,” I interrupted, making him huff.

“—If he finds out I disobeyed and got injured…again…he won’t even let me out of my room.”

I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some sort of comfort. I knew he’d been having more problems with his father recently, but I didn’t know how I could be of any help. What could I say against the king?

“You know, when he banned me from helping with the raids and fighting off any other attacks on the towns, he said that I should learn that my life is more valuable than theirs,” He scoffed, breaking the soft silence that had fallen between us as his face twisted in disgust, “He told me there’s no reason I should get hurt protecting them. That I was making a fool of myself…what kind of ruler doesn’t protect their people?”

“A bad one,” I muttered without thinking, making Roman snicker.

“Hear, hear,” He grinned before growing serious once again.

“Virgil, when I’m king, I’m going to do better,” he avowed, glaring down at his lap.

“Of course, you will, Ro,” I agreed softly, “You’re already doing better than him.”

Roman smiled at my words as I tried not to imagine how much trouble I’d be in if someone overheard me slandering the king.

“I’m going to actually help our people. I’m going to make sure to put an end to threats for good instead of brushing over the issue by sending out more and more untrained soldiers to their deaths. I’m going to make sure everyone is as happy,” He continued, sighing—probably at the thought of everything that’s been happening lately. There had been a lot of infighting in the kingdom recently. Not only did no one know who was facilitating the attacks and raids on the towns and cities near the castle, there was increasing evidence that it was coming from within the kingdom and not from outside forces. I couldn’t imagine how much not being able to help how he wanted was weighing on Roman. I couldn’t even blame him for sneaking out to help defend the citizens. I just wish he didn’t always come back hurt.

“You’ll make a great ruler, Ro, even if you’re an idiot for not taking any of my advice, like…ever,” I assured, hoping to ease the melancholy atmosphere that had fallen with a little teasing. He chuckled softly, but remained as serious as before, looking up to meet my eyes. I melted a little at how much they softened when he looked at me.

“I’ll make sure we can be together too, Virgil. I’ll—I’ll make sure no one can hurt you. No one will have to hide anymore, and those stupid rules will be abolished,” he promised, taking my hand in his. “Just…wait for me, ok? I’ll protect you. I’ll protect us.”

My breath wavered at the sincerity in his voice. If anyone could accomplish all of that, I was sure it was Roman. He already had the love and loyalty of most of the castle staff. He visited the town as often as he could and had made friends with many of the locals. Even many nobles—the ones who weren’t stuck with their head in their own asses—loved him as well. I smiled softly, patting the hand that still rested on mine.

“Looking forward to it, Princey,” I murmured.

As Roman started to blush and lean forward, I realized just how close we’d gotten during his promises, and jumped up, clearing my throat. I already missed the softness that I’d just destroyed by pulling away. I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t.

“Um, uh, the stitches I did last time look fine for the most part,” I started, pushing away the thoughts as I frantically started collecting the left-over supplies and tried to hide how red my face had grown, “but as I said earlier, it’s definitely infected.”

When I turned back around after gathering everything, Roman was pouting forlornly, a blush still tinging his cheeks.

“You—um, I put some ointment that should help with it, but if it gets worse…” I sighed, rubbing my neck awkwardly. I knew telling him to go to the physician again would just cause another argument, and I really didn’t want another one of those right now.

“Well, I’ll try to come back tomorrow to check it, but you know I can only sneak up to your room so many times without people getting suspicious,” I said instead, trying to chuckle to lighten the mood.

“So…you won’t tell?” he asked hesitantly. “You know I won’t,” I rolled my eyes as a bright grin took over his face.

“Just get some rest, Princey, I’ll be back tomorrow. Probably,” I instructed, biting back a grin of my own at the look on his face.

“Good night, Edgar Allen Woe,” he sang as I started for the door.

“One day, you’re gonna run out of those stupid nicknames,” I snickered.

“Never,” he gasped dramatically.

With a soft chuckle, I bid him goodnight and closed the door. As I sneaked back down to the servant’s quarters where I lived, I let the stress of—all of that—slide off and took a deep breath. It was quiet, and I took comfort in the fact that my footsteps were the only ones I could hear echoing down the hall. It seems I was safe this time. One day that prince was going to kill me with worry. Too bad I liked him too much to care.

#I was thinking about getting back into writing fics but Idk #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #sanders sides fic #tw injuries #tw homophobia #tw abuse mention #my fics #cait writes #prinxiety fic #hurt/comfort #prinxiety hurt/comfort

17 notes · View notes

edupunkn00b · 1 year

Text

The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 15: Live to Tell

Prev - Live to Tell - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3378 - Rated: T - CW: swearing, non-graphic discussions of abuse

Janus depositions Logan in preparation for their court battle with Kelly. He tells Janus everything. Well, nearly everything. Everything relevant, Logan is certain.

I have a tale to tell Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well I was not ready for the fall Too blind to see the writing on the wall

A man can tell a thousand lies I've learned my lesson well Hope I live to tell the secret I have learned 'Til then, it will burn inside of me - Live to Tell, Madonna

Roman stayed until Saturday afternoon. They spent the night on the couch, talking and… to be honest, each had dozed a bit, as well. Logan had fallen asleep first, warm and safe, wrapped in Roman's arms, holding him just as closely. The next morning, the boys didn’t question Roman’s presence and simply greeted him like he belonged there.

Despite his worries, they’d had a blissful weekend together, with cake and leftovers for breakfast, and a thrift store hunt for books and Doctor Who DVDs later in the day. Saying goodbye to Roman had been difficult, with wild fantasies of making a permanent space for him flitting through Logan's mind. But Remy's scheme to meet up the next weekend for the movie gave them all something to look forward to.

Remy’s housemate Emile came by Sunday afternoon after spending the weekend with his parents and they’d all fumbled their way through making sushi with the kit the boys had given him for his birthday. Emile had even gifted him a little matcha tea set, the sakura petals on the bamboo finish perfectly matching the kit from his sons.

By Sunday night, Remy, Virgil, and Emile had driven back up to Bellingham, and Logan had dropped off Patton at Kelly’s for her week with him. Neither had mentioned the papers.

He took his time getting ready for bed, drawing out the rote tasks. He flossed twice, refilled the hand soap bottles, changed out the towels in all the bathrooms. The weekend’s busyness, his sons’ laughter filling the house—and, thanks to Roman, his own—had pushed away his worries about Kelly’s filing and Monday’s deposition with Janus.

Now that he was alone again, it was impossible to think about anything else.

More times than he wanted to admit, he’d picked up his phone, tapping open his ongoing chat with Roman, and tried to imagine what he would say if he invited him over. Twice, he’d even started to type out the message, but no matter how he worded it, his request sounded… disrespectful. Dirty. Hey, Ro, my sons aren’t home. Wanna come over?

Shaking his head, he went downstairs to finish the laundry he’d neglected that weekend. Once that was done, he moved on to strip all the beds and, in a few loads, had washed all the sheets and blankets. By the time he’d folded the last comforter, still warm and smelling like that Saturday Roman had found him at the laundromat, the first birds had begun their morning calls. Logan made his bed, brewed a fresh pot of coffee, then stood in front of the kitchen window to watch the sunrise slowly open the blooms in his flower box.

When the bottom edge of the sun cleared the horizon, Logan rinsed his cup and got ready for work. If he left soon, he could take the bus in and not need to worry about the traffic over the bridge.

“A little odd to be on the other side of one of these, isn’t it?” Janus remarked as he sat across from him in his office. He tried not to listen when Janus asked Beatrice to ensure they weren’t disturbed, though he’d appreciated the way Janus had asked him to bring a stack of files from his office as a subtle subterfuge.

“More than a little,” he nodded.

Humming, Janus flipped through folders on his desk. “I see from the proceedings you represented yourself—”

“You have my court records?” Logan interrupted, eyes wild as he tried to recall what other information might be hidden away in those files.

Janus looked up, a faint frown wrinkling his brow. “I’m your attorney.”

“Right, yes, of course… I—I don’t mean…” He looked down at his hands. Janus was certain to rescind the Assistant AIC offer after all of this. This was even worse than the review of his Q-Law cases.

“Did you consult with anyone?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I… took care of it. Kelly was the petitioner. She… It was… I just wanted it done.”

Logan wasn’t sure if Roman had warned him or not, but Janus started very slowly with the rest of his questions, building out a chronological list of events in their marriage and separation. He captured the boys’ names and birthdays—they’d been redacted from the court record. They talked a bit about Virgil’s birth and his surgeries. Logan even told Janus how Virgil’s genetic screening had showed a hereditary component to the defect in his diaphragm. He admitted how, afterward, he’d had his own genome screened and confirmed he carried the gene.

Janus didn’t ask for more details, so he let the rest of that thread drop.

Instead, he began to ask about the… quality of his relationship with Kelly. Logan bit the inside of his cheek, fighting for control. He’d just managed to win a sliver of respect from his boss. He couldn’t… He couldn’t just throw that all away with some overly emotional reaction.

“We… we disagreed on…” Logan sucked in a slow breath, forcing his twitching hands to calm. Janus’ eyes flicked down to his lap and made a note in the margin of his yellow legal pad. “On a few important things about the boys.” He shrugged, “Like all married people, I suppose.”

He nodded slowly, writing without taking his eyes off of Logan’s expression. “Your parents… disagreed a lot?”

In one breath, Logan was back in his parents’ old rambler in Oregon. He sat on his closet floor, making flashcards, a heavy AP History textbook open on his lap. Surrounded by hanging clothes, with his blanket shoved against the gap at the bottom, his father’s shouted words and his mother’s occasional responses were muffled and difficult to make out.

But the tones were unmistakable. And far too familiar.

Logan couldn’t stop his hands from shaking so he crossed his arms over his belly, gripping and releasing the sides of his shirt. “Excellent motivation to get a scholarship to UW and move out on my own,” he said, an attempt at levity. His voice cracked at the end and Janus simply made another note on his legal pad.

Janus tapped the end of his pen against his lips and went quiet. Logan had observed him cross examine reticent witnesses often enough to have seen this tactic of his before. Given enough time under his ‘I have all day, how about you?’ gaze, even other attorneys who knew it was coming would start to sweat and say anything to fill the silence.

Logan was well practiced at holding his tongue.

“You were married for…” Janus flipped back to the front page and did the math. “Eighteen years.” Faster than Logan had expected, he’d moved on to the ‘I already know everything, you might as well answer my questions’ stage. “This is difficult. Difficult to talk about, difficult to re-experience,” he said, his voice softer than Logan had braced himself for and his eyes darted up, an unfamiliar expression on his boss’ face. “Believe me, I understand.”

He nodded, then lowered his head and waited for Janus' next question, shields up and ready.

“Talk to me, Logan.” Without seeing his face, it almost sounded like a plea. “What made you finally decide to divorce?”

Eyes closed to avoid the inevitable ridicule on Janus’ expression, Logan forced a slow, deep breath. Still, his voice shook shamefully when he spoke. “How much of this has Roman already told you?”

“None." Logan looked up, the honesty in Janus' voice too strong to ignore. “Roman can be a bit of a drama king—”

“Excuse me?” Logan’s voice was sharper than he’d intended but instead of looking angry at his interjection, Janus merely looked surprised and… pleased?

“As is my Remus,” he said, the tone of that ‘my’ hanging in the air, as though he noted some other parallel between the brothers. Janus’ smile morphed into a bit of a smirk. “As am I, so I’ve been told.” Janus watched his reaction with interest and for a moment, Logan could have sworn his boss was about to add him to his list of ‘drama kings.’ Logan looked down and smoothed his tie for the sake of having somewhere else to look. “Personally, I think the world could use more drama kings,” he continued. “You never need doubt where you stand with us.”

Speak for yourself, Logan thought but did not say.

“Regardless.” Janus grew serious. “Unless you asked him to tell me something personal you’d shared with him, Roman would not breathe a word of it.” He lowered his legal pad. “And, aside from a very short list of legally required disclosures, the same is true for me. Your secrets are safe.”

He pinched his sides, a distraction from the tears already burning the backs of his eyes. Janus waited, but when Logan didn’t speak for several long moments, he prodded. “To do my job, Logan, I need to know everything.”

Logan deflated, the last shreds of his pride spooled in a tangled mess on the floor. “I know,” he sighed.

“Was it more than 'disagreements' between you?” Janus asked again, even softer this time.

Logan’s bottom lip trembled, but the harder he tried to control it, the worse it got. He nodded and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

“Much more.”

Eighteen years of practicing law plus two decade’s worth of his own personal experiences had muted Janus’ expressiveness in the face of misery. Remus worked hard to ensure it was a mask he could drop, that he had spaces where he was free to cry and shout and stumble and laugh. His husband spent an inordinate amount of energy and love ensuring he would not be swallowed up and consumed by his jaded attorney façade.

Janus clung to that jadedness now, letting it carry him as he fought to keep a mostly neutral expression while Logan recounted the gradual descent from storybook romance to a narrow escape from Hansel and Gretel’s witch.

It was a familiar story. While Q-Law received most of its funding from its flashier cases, the national attention garnered through their work on major legislation, fancy galas, and private benefactors, from a caseload perspective, a plurality of their work was in family law. Domestic violence cases in particular. Q-Law was there to serve a need in the queer community and, tragically, that’s where the greatest need lay.

What made this story different for Janus was he didn’t need to ask if anyone at his client’s workplace had the faintest inkling of just how bad, just how dangerous his home life had been.

Janus had had none.

Shame bubbled in his chest as Roman’s tight-lipped admonition ran laps through his mind. ‘Maybe you don’t actually know him as well as you think you do.’ This interview proved he most certainly did not.

He turned to a fresh page. “And which of these injuries did you actually seek care for?” Logan curled in on himself, the implied accusation harsh even to Janus’ ears. “That came out wrong, I’m sorry. I simply wish to retrieve hospital records,” he said.

“Do you—” Logan shivered and Janus checked the thermostat. The office was set to 71°F. “Do you really think that will be necessary?”

He frowned and sat back in his chair. Janus was accustomed to clients, particularly DV clients, demonstrating resistance to reliving and retreading these parts of their lives. But Logan was a lawyer. A lawyer who, thanks to his now explainable eagerness to pick up so many of the toughest DV cases, was arguably the most experienced DV trial lawyer in the firm.

What wasn’t he getting about this?

“We’ve only seen the initial petition, Logan,” Janus began as carefully as he could. A spark of annoyance he couldn’t quite suppress buzzed in his mind. “If she alleges any sort of—”

“I never hurt her. Not even—” His voice fell away and his eyes were drawn to the door. Fuck, he was losing him.

Janus looked down at the desk between them. He stood, wincing when Logan flinched. He brought his legal pad and a pen and sat at the other end of the couch, nothing between them now but a few feet of overstuffed leather sofa.

“What can you share, Logan?” he asked softly.

“I…” He sighed, shoulders curled over and he held out his right hand. A vague recollection of a college sports injury explaining away the titanium pins that triggered court metal detectors flicked across Janus’ mind.

“I had surgery at Evergreen for my wrist fracture. Started at the emergency room. There will be X-rays.” Janus’ pen flew across the page. “I left… AMA from Recovery.” He massaged the bone just above his wrist and from here, Janus could see the three little white lines from the incisions. “Kelly came by with the kids and… drove me home.”

“She convinced you to leave against medical advice?”

Logan looked away. “The doctor had called a social worker because my injuries were ‘inconsistent with the patient’s reported cause.’”

Janus nodded slowly and made a few marks on the page before flipping back to review the full list of incidents Logan had recounted. “This was in October 2011?”

“After Patton’s first diagnosis.”

He nodded again and flipped back to the mostly blank page, pen hovering over the sheet, ready for the next set of records to requisition. When Logan remained silent, Janus looked up. “Whenever you’re ready,” he prompted gently.

“That’s it.”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’” He stared at Logan, brow furrowed as he turned again to the pages detailing the times their arguments had turned violent. The times that bitch had turned violent.

“That was the only injury for which I sought care.” His voice was stiff. Formal.

“What?” Janus hissed, calm façade cracking as he scanned the list. “You—your—The fractures in your hand?” Logan shook his head, eyes on the floor. “Your concussions, the burn, the—the tear in your lobe, you—”

“Dermabond surgical adhesive was sufficient to stop the bleeding.“

Janus scoffed. “You can’t just order that shit from Amazon!”

Logan merely shrugged. “It’s a basic veterinary supply. It isn’t that difficult to acquire.”

“I see,” Janus said more to his notepad than his client. Logan had used fucking vetbond on himself then went to work the next day like nothing had happened. His employee. His co-worker. Sour acid churned in his stomach.

‘He’s your friend, too…’

Roman had been wrong. Janus had not been his friend.

He watched Logan over the top of his legal pad. Shame crawling up his spine, he wondered how many times he’d fucking laughed when Devin had sat where Logan was now and remarked how clumsy their quiet co-worker must be to so often have had some sort of limp or bandage or…

No. He couldn’t undo any of that. But he could fight like hell for Logan now.

“Do you have friends who would be willing to support any of this with contemporaneous reports?” he asked, trying a new tactic. “Neighbors? Anyone you’ve been close with who knew what had really happened and would give a statement?”

“No,” Logan said. His fingers tapped the side of his knee in what more closely resembled a tremor than a fidget.

“What makes you so sure they’d be unwilling to come forward?” Despite humanity's general unwillingness to rock the boat even to save a person from drowning, Janus couldn’t imagine everyone in Logan’s life would be so reluctant to help. With the notable exception of Devin, Logan had always been kind and thoughtful to everyone in the office, unerringly polite and considerate. The first to pass around a card for birthdays or tragedies, despite the glaring omission of his own. There had to be someone.

“We could ensure their anonymity if they’re concerned about… social ramifications. She wouldn’t need to know they’d said anything.”

It was like convincing a rock. He wouldn’t even look up. “Logan, we’ve done it before. Domestic violence situations, particularly when witnesses consider both parties friends and—”

Logan shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I mean I… I have no… confidants from that period of my life. Your, ah…” Logan crossed and uncrossed his legs then wrapped his arms around his stomach, hugging himself. “Your brother-in-law is my first friend in a very long time.”

He looked down at his statement. “You… “ Sighing, he set the legal pad face down on the coffee table and turned in his seat to face Logan properly. “You have been through so much and…” He met his eyes.

Janus used to wonder how people could be so blind when the people around them were suffering. How people could waltz through their days, ignoring the obvious hurt of those around them. But he’d been just as bad. Just as oblivious. “I'm sorry I never noticed the signs. That I never tried to help you.”

Logan looked away, rubbing the fingers of his left hand. Janus had always thought it a nervous habit. Now he wondered how much the mis-fused bones pained him. And how much of it was a reminder of that fight.

Finally, Logan shrugged. “I made every effort to ensure there was nothing for anyone to notice.”

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, then Janus stood. “Can I make you some tea?” Logan looked up, surprise cutting through his mask. Janus smiled and spread his hands, gesturing toward the little kettle and bamboo box of matcha. “I know I could use a cup. I imagine you could, too.”

Logan huffed. “Got anything stronger than tea?”

Shaking his head, Janus chuckled and pulled his five-year Alcoholics Anonymous chip from his pocket. “Nope.”

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right, Logan. We… we’ve both had our secrets, haven’t we?” Janus checked the kettle and clicked it on, then pulled two mugs from underneath the tea caddy. “How long have we known each other?”

“Almost twenty-two years.”

Janus shook his head. “Far too long to not actually know each other.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

The water rumbled in the kettle and Janus whisked it into the powder in the chawan, the steam carrying the bright, clean scent through the room.

“May I help with the tea?” Logan began to rise. “You don’t need to serve me.”

“Yes, actually, I do.” Janus looked over his shoulder and winked. “You’re older, so I pour the tea.”

Sitting back down, Logan shook his head, a tiny scowl wrinkling his brow. “I can’t be that much older than you.”

“Very nearly nine months,” Janus smiled as he poured Logan’s tea, then his own, and set both cups down on the table.

Logan’s face couldn’t decide if he should glare or grin.

“Don’t worry,” Janus nodded and waited for Logan to pick up his cup. “I promise I won’t rub it in too much.”

Smiling, Logan took a sip and set down his cup.

“Besides, it’s bad manners to mock the elderly.”

A sudden belly laugh burst from the ordinarily quiet man.

“Careful there,” Janus murmured, sipping his tea. “Too much excitement at your age can't be healthy.” Shoulders shaking, Logan laughed until there were tears in his eyes and Janus passed him another tissue.

Janus slid a little closer on the couch and smiled. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you really laugh.”

“Well,” Logan nodded and raised his cup. “Here’s to twenty-two more years of hearing it.”

By the time they finished their tea, the clock on Janus’ desk chimed six times. “Damn,” he muttered, pulling out his phone and confirming just how late it really was. “I hope I’m not keeping you from your boys.”

“No,” Logan shook his head, turning the little cup in his hands. “Not at all. Patton is at Kelly’s this week. I’m not needed.” Janus frowned at his phrasing and Logan fumbled to explain. “He carpooled after school, and the…” He looked down and the desk lamp cast long shadows across his face, exaggerating the dark circles under his eyes. “The quarter’s started at Western.”

“Hmm.” More shaken by Logan's words than he wanted to admit, Janus took their empty cups and placed them in the basin on the bottom shelf of his tea caddy. “Any plans for dinner, then?”

Taglist: @crossiantgay

Ask to be added :D

19 notes · View notes

thatonelesbianfander · 7 months

Text

The Ghost and the Reaper Side Stories 1: Adoption

Fandom// Sanders Sides

TW// Crying, Abuse mention

Word count// 2187

Description// This a side story in The Ghost and the Reaper AU! In this story, Thomas adopts the twins.

Characters// Remus Sanders, Roman Sanders, C!Thomas Sanders

Pairings// None

AU// The Ghost and the Reaper AU

Author note// I am working on the afterstory for TGatR but for now take this fluffy side story of when Thomas adopted the twins

Masterpost

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas walked up to the front desk of the adoption center, starting to talk to the lady sitting at the desk.

”Hello. I’m here to visit to see if I want to adopt today,” Thomas said.

”Okay, did you fill out a form on the website?” the lady asked.

”Yeah,” Thomas replied.

”Name?” the lady asked.

”Thomas Sanders,” Thomas replied. The lady typed something out on her computer, bringing up Thomas’s form on the screen.

”Ah, found it! You are 25-years-old, correct?” the lady asked.

”Yes, that’s correct,” Thomas said.

”Okay. And what age range were you looking to adopt in?” the lady asked.

”I was thinking somewhere around 5-10,” Thomas said. The lady nodded, typing something out in her computer and printing out a list of names.

”Here’s a list of names of all the kids in that age range that are available for adoption. Feel free to look over the list and tell me which ones you would be interested in,” the lady said, handing Thomas the list. Thomas took the list from the lady, scanning the names.

”By the way, have you done a background check yet?” the lady asked.

”Yeah, they had me do the background check before I came in today,” Thomas said. The lady typed something down on her computer while Thomas looked at the list of names. Two names caught his attention.

”Excuse me, could you tell me a little bit more about these two?” Thomas asked, pointing at the names. The lady looked at the names Thomas pointed to.

”Ah, yes. That is Remus and Roman Kingstone. They’re twins, both 7-years-old. They were removed from their original family by CPS due to the family being abusive, so they do have a lot of trauma from that. Remus is also diagnosed with autism and doesn’t speak much. If you adopt one, you have to adopt the other as they are a pair. They are really nice sweet boys once you get to know them, though. We’ve had them here for a few months and they have been really well behaved,” the lady said.

”Could I meet them?” Thomas asked.

”Of course, just wait here so they can get ready to meet,” the lady said, walking off. Thomas sat down on a chair in the room, turning on his phone and scrolling. The lady came back a few minutes later, walking over to Thomas.

”Sir,” the lady said. Thomas looked up at her, turning off his phone.

”They are ready to meet whenever you are,” the lady said.

”Alright,” Thomas said, standing up.

”Follow me,” the lady said. Thomas followed the lady to a hallway of doors. The two walked down the hallway until they stopped at a door labeled “Remus and Roman Kingstone”.

The lady opened the door to the two boys sitting on their beds. One talked to the other while the other held a dusty gold plush bear. The two went silent, turning to the lady and Thomas as they stepped into the room.

”Hello, boys. This is Thomas. He’s here to visit you two,” the lady said. The one boy waved nervously, the other clutching his bear.

”I’ll let you three get to know each other,” the lady said, walking out of the room and closing the door. Thomas looked around the room, grabbing a chair and pulling it over to where the two boys sat. The boy with the bear got off the bed, walking over to the other boy and sitting next to him.

”Hi there. My name’s Thomas, what’s yours?” Thomas said in a soft tone, trying not to scare the boys.

”Roman… And this is Remus,” the one boy said, pointing to the boy with the bear plush.

”Well, do you want to tell me a little bit about yourselves?” Thomas asked, smiling softly. Roman perked up a little.

”Well, I really like Disney,” Roman said, smiling a little.

”That’s cool. Do you have a favorite character?” Thomas asked.

”I don’t really know… I like a lot of the characters…” Roman said.

”Okay. What about your brother?” Thomas asked. Roman looked over to Remus, Remus holding onto his arm.

”Remus doesn’t talk much… He’s kind of shy…” Roman said. Thomas looked at the boy, the boy looking back.

”Does he want to come over here?” Thomas asked. Roman and Remus looked at each other, Remus cautiously approaching Thomas. Thomas smiled, crouching down to Remus’s level. Remus looked at Thomas.

”Hey, there. Do you want to show me your bear?” Thomas asked. Remus looked down at his bear, holding it out to Thomas. Thomas smiled.

”What’s your bear’s name?” Thomas asked.

”Remus likes to call it Goldie… Our grandma gave it to him before she died…” Roman said.

”Well, I think that Goldie is very lovely,” Thomas said. Remus smiled a little, hugging Goldie. The lady came back into the room, the three looking at her.

”Hey. I’m sorry to intrude but visiting time is up, so if you’ll come with me to the front desk, we can work out a few paper things and you can choose if you’d like to visit anyone else,” the lady said. Thomas nodded, getting up and starting to walk over to the lady only to be stopped by someone clutching onto his leg. Thomas looked down, finding Remus holding his leg. Thomas frowned, crouching down.

”Remus, buddy… I’ve got to go now,” Thomas said. Remus looked up at Thomas, tears in his eyes. Thomas extended his arms out towards Remus, Remus immediately wrapping his arms around Thomas.

”Shh… It’s okay…” Thomas said as Remus sobbed quietly into Thomas’s chest. Thomas looked up to the lady, nodding to her. The lady nodded back.

”Okay, you two. Get your stuff ready, and meet me and Thomas at the front desk,” the lady said. The two perked up, Thomas smiling at them. They immediately rushed to get their stuff ready, Thomas and the lady walking to the front desk. Thomas filled out the paperwork as the twins rushed down the hallway. The two got to the front desk, Thomas looking up from the paperwork. He smiled, extending his arms out. The twins ran into Thomas’s arms, hugging him.

”Okay, sir. If you’ll just sign this one last thing, you can be on your way,” the lady said. Thomas grabbed the clipboard with the paper, taking out a pen and signing it. The lady smiled, taking the clipboard from Thomas. Thomas picked up Remus, holding Roman’s hand as the three walked out of the center and to Thomas’s car.

Th three got home, walking into Thomas’s house.

”Here we are. Your new home,” Thomas said. Roman and Remus looked around the house. The two looked at each other, both dropping their things and running off. Thomas smiled, going to the kitchen and making some lunch for the three of them. Thomas came out with the plates, setting them down on the dining room table.

”Boys! Time for lunch!” Thomas called out. He sat down at the table, waiting for the twins but the twins never came. Thomas got up, looking around the room confused. He walked out to the living room, grabbing the twins’ stuff from the floor and walking upstairs to the room he had gotten ready. He placed the twins’ things down in the room, looking around to find them not there.

”Boys?” Thomas called out, walking around the room and searching for them to find them nowhere. Thomas walked out of the room, going to his room and searching in there.

”Roman! Remus! Where are you two?” Thomas called out again, searching around his room. Thomas started to get really anxious. He went back downstairs, going back to the dining room to find Roman and Remus’s plates empty.

”Well… At least they’re eating…” Thomas said, walking over to his plate and starting to eat. Thomas finished his lunch, bringing all the plates to the kitchen and placing them in the sink, starting to clean them. He put the plates into the drying rack, looking around the kitchen to find the twins weren’t there.

”This is odd…” Thomas said. He walked out of the kitchen, grabbing his phone out and calling his one friend. His friend picked up the phone.

”Hey,” the friend said.

”Hey,’ Thomas responded, looking under the couch.

”What’s up, Thomas?” the friend asked.

”Well, you’ve worked with children with trauma before right?” Thomas asked.

”Well, I am a child psychologist so I would say that is true, yes. What’s up?” the friend asked.

”Well, I adopted these twins today,” Thomas said.

”Oh! Congratulations, man! I know how long you’ve wanted that so that’s great!” the friend said.

”Thank you,” Thomas said.

”So, what’s up with the twins?” the friend asked.

”Well, when I went to meet them they were at first really timid and then became really clingy after we had some time together, but then once we got home their whole demeanor changed…” Thomas replied.

”How so?” the friend asked.

”Well, once we got home, they dropped all their stuff and ran off. I thought they were just going to explore the place since it’s a new place to them, but I haven’t been able to find them since,” Thomas said, checking behind the TV stand.

”Hm… That is kind of weird… They haven’t left the house, right?” the friend asked.

”No… I just came downstairs from checking upstairs for them a few minutes ago, and they had eaten the food that I had left for them on the dining room table,” Thomas said.

”Hm… Did you check upstairs again?” the friend asked.

”That’s what I’m going to do,” Thomas replied, heading upstairs. Thomas searched the entire house with his friend on speaker phone, looking around to find nothing. Thomas walked back downstairs, still talking with his friend on speaker.

”This doesn’t make sense! How could they just disappear?” Thomas said, walking down the stairs.

”I don’t know, but-” the friend started before Thomas heard light crying. He looked around, finding Remus curled up in a ball in a corner between the couch and the wall.

”Remus?” Thomas asked. Remus looked up to Thomas, hiding his face in between his legs and curling up into a ball, crying.

”Hang on, I’ll call you back later,” Thomas said, hanging up the phone. Thomas walked down the stairs, walking over to Remus. He put his phone down on the coffee table, crouching down in front of Remus.

”Remus?” Thomas asked. Remus looked up at Thomas, terrified as tears streamed down his face. Thomas frowned, sitting down on the floor as Remus backed up against the wall.

”Remus… What’s wrong, buddy?” Thomas asked. Remus looked at Thomas, terrified. Thomas looked at Remus, seeing that he didn’t have his bear.

”Where did your bear go?” Thomas said. Remus looked at Thomas, starting to cry again. Thomas frowned, extending his arms out to Remus. Remus looked at Thomas, shaking as tears streamed down his face.

”Come here, buddy,” Thomas said, smiling softly at Remus. Remus cautiously moved closer to Thomas, wrapping his arms around him. Thomas hugged Remus back, Remus hiding his face in Thomas’s chest as he sobbed.

”Shhh… It’s okay… You’re safe… I got you…” Thomas said.

”Pa…” Remus said, looking at Thomas. Thomas looked back, his eyes wide. He smiled down at Remus, putting a hand to his cheek.

”Hi, buddy…” Thomas said. Remus leaned his head against Thomas’s hand, his tears starting to subside.

”Do you want to go find your bear?” Thomas asked. Remus nodded, wiping his face with his hands. Thomas picked Remus up, Remus nuzzling his face into Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas went back upstairs, walking into the room he had set up and setting Remus on the bed. He looked around the room, finding Remus’s bear sitting in the corner of the room. Thomas picked the bear up, noticing the one arm was ripped. He gave the bear to Remus, Remus holding the bear close. Thomas smiled, sitting next to the boy. Thomas looked around the room, seeing Roman in the one corner. Roman looked up at Thomas, Thomas smiling and patting the bed next to him. Roman walked over to the two, sitting next to Thomas. Roman leaned his head against Thomas’s side, Thomas wrapping his arm around the boy.

”It’s okay… You two are safe now… You don’t need to be scared anymore…” Thomas said, comforting the two. The two looked up to Thomas, Thomas holding the two close. The two closed their eyes, both moving closer to Thomas and falling asleep. Thomas looked down at the two boys, smiling as he moved back on the bed more, leaning against the wall with the two and falling asleep.

Masterpost

#thatonelesbianfander #sanders sides #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #tss #sasi #sanders sides au #sanders sides fanfiction #the ghost and the reaper au #remus sanders #roman sanders #c!thomas sanders #c!thomas #tw crying #tw abuse mention

4 notes · View notes