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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 month

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How Romantic

what if a side did get forgotten? they got pushed to the side enough (maybe by the others being in a relationship, maybe by other conflicts) and the mindscape started to remove the "unnecessary" influence – doteddestroyer

Read on Ao3

Warnings: fading/ducking out, but he's fine

Pairings: none, so gen

Word Count: 4777

Romanticism emphasized the individual, the subjective, the irrational, the imaginative, the personal, the spontaneous, the emotional, the visionary, and the transcendental. When Roman is forgotten as a part of Creativity, well, what use does the Imagination have for a prince when it can simply put the Romantic into its work in other ways? Remus has a few things to say about that.

It shouldn’t be all that surprising, really, to think that if a Mind forgets something, it will no longer manifest. Or rather, to not think of it. Or, one could imagine the consequences of not imagining something.

Listen, Roman’s already mostly out the door, he doesn’t have enough cognitive function left to think his way in and out of all the contradictions that arise from the things he says.

The basic principle is this: if a thing is no longer relevant in the Mindscape, which is a consequence of people not thinking about it, then it ceases to exist. The Mindscape doesn’t put the energy into making it a thing. Think of it like a video game. The game only renders the part of the role that the player is currently in, there’s no use for it to render the secret dungeon buried in the third level of the side quest that hardly anyone knows about. It’s more efficient if it doesn’t and in the incredibly slim chance that the player does end up there, then the game can render it and it’ll be fine and it’ll de-load as soon as they leave to go back to the main game.

Got it?

Great.

So, that’s where Roman is right now. In his room, waiting to be de-loaded. He has his Prince costume on, because that’s the version of him that’s going to fade last, his room is all made up in his signature red: red curtains, red comforter, red pillowcases, red notebook laid on his desk. He’s even got his sword out for a final sharpening—no, that’s not a dirty joke, he’s not that Creativity, he’s literally just taking care of the katana—as he waits for the telltale shudder of the Mindscape forgetting something.

He hums absentmindedly to himself as the whetstone sings against the blade. Really, it’s surprising it’s taking this long. Well, not really. Forgetting things is a slow process, it’s not like you can snap your fingers and poof, something’s gone. At the very least, it has to be long enough that something else has taken its place in your mind, and then when you look, you can’t even tell that something was ever missing from it.

Remus has that handled. And Roman will fight anyone who says that’s just because he’s intrusive thoughts, or whatever, no, Remus is memorable all on his own, thank you very much. He’s far cleverer than they all give him credit. And Roman wishes he was half as quick as Remus.

Again, not an innuendo. That’s not his thing, remember?

And Remus isn’t bound by the same creative limits he is! He can run wild—literally, if they let him—and come up with the most incredible things that open up all sorts of new possibilities for what they could do, what they can talk about, what sorts of things they could explore. Isn’t that so much better than just regurgitating the same story idea, over and over and over, doesn’t that get exhausting? How can you imagine something new when all you’re able to do is ricochet around the same blank boring box?

His hand shudders a little as it moves back up the blade. He never liked creative blocks.

And how nice would it be to have a Creativity that wasn’t bound to the fragility of the Ego? How much better, how much easier would it be if you didn’t have to worry about getting bruised and hurt every single time you got feedback on something you made? Making things is hard, you know, it’s vulnerable and terrifying and mortifying especially when you’re showing the end product to someone—and even if you aren’t! Even if it sits on a shelf in your room or a folder on your computer and it never, ever sees the light of day, that’s still scary! You’ve made something, it exists now because of you, and now someone could look at it and see you through it and—and—

Well. You get the idea.

Roman sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He puts the katana away and places the whetstone back in its little box. As he goes to pick it up, it falls through his hands and hits the floor with a low thud.

Ah. So it is starting after all.

He leaves the box on the floor and goes back to the bed. He lies down, not sinking very much at all into his red covers. He folds his hands on his chest and stares up at the ceiling.

It makes sense, after all, that the parts of him the others don’t know about—or have already forgotten about—are going first. The whetstone. They know he has a sword. They probably don’t know how he takes care of it. His bed is red, and he’s the color red, so it’s still here. His room, his prince costume, his desk, all things he needs to be Creativity, or at least half of Creativity, so it will probably go last too.

He lets his head loll to the side, staring at his red notebook. bits of grey begin to enter his vision, the red notebook standing out like a sore thumb. He wonders if any of the things written on its pages would still be there if he looked.

He did love that notebook. It was his friend when no one else would be his friend. It was there for him when it wasn’t okay for him to have someone there for him, when he’d messed up too much to deserve comfort from anyone else, he would go to the notebook. Mainly because the notebook didn’t have a choice.

He’s written a small thing the other day about that, actually. He wonders if it’s still there. If he closes his eyes, maybe he can remember it.

Why don’t you talk to me?; you’re unkind to me; why don’t you talk to me?; I tried and you turned it into a lecture; why don’t you talk to me?; you make fun of me when I try to express how I’m feeling; why don’t you talk to me?; I tried to ask you for help and you turned it into a game of who could mock me the most until I ran away; why don’t you talk to me?; because you were still laughing when I ran away crying; why don’t you talk to me?; because you made me feel guilty for needing help; why don’t you talk to me?; because you made me feel ashamed for wanting support and comfort; why don’t you talk to me?; I don’t want to be in trouble; why don’t you talk to me?; I want to be hurt and upset and have that be okay because I got hurt by something; why don’t you talk to me?; the loneliest time in the world is right before you tell someone else what you did wrong because you know they won’t want to comfort you anymore; why don’t you talk to me?; it’s cold here; why don’t you talk to me?; I just want to be alone now; why don’t you talk to me?; I learned my lesson already; why don’t you talk to me?; what would I have to say?; why don’t you talk to me?; tell me the right words to use so you’ll actually care about me; why don’t you talk to me?; I don’t want to; why don’t you talk to me?; I don’t trust you anymore; why don’t you talk to me?; why would I talk to you?

Ah, that’s it.

His melodrama will probably be the last thing to go too.

He sighs, rubbing his cheek half-heartedly against the pillow in search of some meager comfort. He hasn’t been forgotten enough that the pain that lingers in his chest and hands has gone away, though he’s not sure how. He doesn’t think anyone knows about that—except maybe Remus.

Oh, Remus.

Roman’s chest burns and he gasps, sudden tears coming to the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t want to leave his brother, not after everything they’ve been through, not after all the work they’ve done to get back to the place they’re at now, after all this time, not when they’re finally brothers again. He sniffles, going to wipe his nose and his hands just start to ache. He curls up on the bed, around his pained hands, weeping for himself, for his brother, for Creativity.

Enough of his mind remains to put the pieces together and realize oh, of course. In forgetting everything else, I have been left with the things that I am at my core.

Pain in his chest and hands and an undying love for his brother.

A more complete Creativity might’ve called it Romantic.

***

Thomas sighs. To say that most of these meetings go well would be a lie, but this meeting is not going well.

“Look, all I’m saying is that—“

“Well, that’s your problem right there, you’ve been doing an awful lot of ‘saying’ and not a lot of ‘listening.’”

“Your sass, as delightful as it is, kiddo, is not helpful right now.”

“Oh, really? And here I thought it was the most pivotal thing at the moment.”

“No, it’s not, because it’s taking valuable time from—“

“Sarcasm, Patton. That was sarcasm.”

“And see! That’s another thing—“

“Oh, for the love of Archimedes…”

Yeah. not going well. Thomas pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out what this conversation started with and how exactly they ended up here.

Right, okay.

He’d gotten a text from a friend about a thing they wanted to go do. The problem was, the thing cost money to do and the friend hadn’t said anything about paying for Thomas to come. His finances weren’t awful but it wasn’t like he had the amount of money to just…spare. Logan had suggested they ask and confirm who would be paying the entrance fee, Virgil had worried that it was rude to ask something like that, Janus had proposed a number of ways they could ‘surreptitiously’ ask about it, and Patton had worried about going at all if they were going to be guilt-tripped into it or if the friend had just assumed Thomas would be fine paying for it.

It had…developed from there.

“Look,” Logan says, “there is a very simple way to ask whether or not Thomas is to pay for his own entrance fee. We simply text or call them back and ask.”

“But what if they freak out about it? That’s a weird thing to ask!”

“How is it a weird thing to ask?”

“They might think we’re trying to freeload, or that we’re going to ask them to pay us back, or what if they think that we’re broke?”

“Hey!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “You are not broken, kiddo, and I won’t stand for you saying that you are!”

“…not what I meant, but thanks, I guess.”

Janus rolls his eyes. “Well, if we’re this stressed out about a simple invitation to something we want to go to anyway, perhaps we should reconsider whether we want to be friends with them at all.”

“Now that’s a bit of an overreaction.”

“Sarcastic! I was being sarcastic!’

Yeah. That’s about where they are now. Out of sheer desperation, if nothing else, he glances over at Remus. Remus’s arms are hanging over the TV, swinging his hands as he grins at the chaos unfolding. He catches Thomas’s gaze and tilts his head in a silent question. Thomas gestures weakly around and Remus shrugs.

“I voted we just go without paying, but apparently that’s illegal or something.”

“Yeah, buddy, that’s…we’re not gonna do that.”

Remus shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

“Alright, look,” Thomas says, raising his voice enough to speak over the current argument about—you know what, he’s not even gonna ask— “this isn’t going anywhere. If we’re going to figure out what we are actually going to do, we need to think about this differently.”

“It’s a simple issue, Thomas.”

“And yet, we’ve been talking for close to an hour and we’ve made zero progress.” Thomas rubs his forehead. “Look, where’s Roman?”

There’s a pause.

“Roman?” Patton frowns. "Why would we need Roman?”

“Well, you know, he’s…also Creativty? Maybe he can help us think of something we’re not thinking of?”

“Remus is also Creativity,” Logan says, indicating Remus who gives a cheery little wave. “His suggestions have been…well, we’ve ruled them out.”

“That’s because you guys are no fun.”

“Yeah, but Roman is a different Creativity. Doesn’t it make sense that what he’d come up with would be different.”

Logan adjusts his glasses. “I suppose so.”

“Why didn’t he show up today, does anyone know?”

“Perhaps he is working on another video idea.”

“Maybe he got lost in the Imagination? Happens to me all the time.”

“Maybe he slept in. God knows he harps on about his ‘beauty sleep’ enough.”

“Janus? Remus? What about you two?”

“Why would I bother to keep track of anything Roman does?” Thomas narrows his eyes at him and Janus sighs, rolling his eyes. “No, I don’t know where he is or why he didn’t bother to show up, nor do I much care.”

“Janus!”

“What?”

Patton puts his hands on his hips. “Don’t be so dismissive, how would you like it if someone said that about you?”

”I don’t know, Virgil, how would I like it?”

“Hey, leave me out of this, I don’t have anything to do with whatever the heck this is.”

Thomas just barely suppresses a deep sigh and looks over at Remus. Remus, however, is not relishing in the argument breaking out between the three of them. Instead, he’s staring off into the corner, frowning hard.

“Remus? You okay, buddy?”

“Why can’t I remember the last time I saw Roman?”

Thomas frowns. That manages to get the attention of the others—somehow—and a hush falls over the room as they all think about it.

“Well, it can’t have been that long ago,” Patton says, “we saw him for movie night on the, um…when we watched the…”

”No, it was more recent than that,” Logan says, “he had come down to breakfast to make us those muffins.”

“Right, right, that’s right. When, uh, when was that?”

“Well, it was…”

Logan trails off into silence. Remus looks around at all of them. “Think about it: when was the last time any of us actually saw Roman? Can any of us actually remember?”

Thomas watches with muted horror as all of them slowly shake their heads.

“Fuck.”

“Language, kiddo,” Patton scolds, “anyway, I’m sure this is just a big misunderstanding.”

“That’s right,” Logan says, “after all, it’s hardly the first time Roman has been absent.”

“Yeah, but he normally tells someone where he’s going,” Virgil mutters, “especially if it’s gonna be for a while.”

“Okay, the last time I definitely saw Ro was three weeks ago when we fed Ollie.”

“He helped me put up new cat posters in my room. I think it was…it was before we did that full moon thing, so that was a month ago?”

“He—jeez, I think I passed him in the hallway at, like, stupid o’clock around a week ago, but I was…pretty out of it.”

“We had a brief meeting about the upcoming script last week. That’s the last time I remember seeing him for certain.”

“Don’t look at me,” Thomas protests when all eyes turn in his direction, “I don’t see him outside of these meetings and the last time we had one of those was like, two months ago.”

“Janny? What about you?”

Janus sighs, idly examining one of the seams on the tip of his finger. “I think you’re all being overdramatic.”

“Roman is missing, Janus,” Logan says with a bit of bite to his words, “I don’t think ‘overdramatic’ is an accurate description.”

“Yeah, especially since none of us can remember the last time we saw him.”

“Oh, please,” he sighs, “it’s Roman. Do you really think something so horrible could happen to him that he’d disappear and he wouldn’t tell anyone about it?”

A beat.

“…shit.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Roman.”

”Alright,” Virgil says, getting up, “Thomas, don’t respond yet. They’ll think you’re working or something. Remus, go check the Imagination.”

“On it!”

“Logan, go see if he’s in the library, J, check the Dark Side’s living room.” The two of them nod and sink out. “Pat?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna go to his room and see if he’s in there.”

“Okay.” Patton glances at Thomas. “Can you…can you feel anything?”

Thomas frowns, putting a hand on his chest. He moves it to the other side.

“Are you checking for your pulse or something?”

“No, normally when I think about Roman, like I’m gonna summon him or something, there’s this, like, warmth? It’s like something in my chest that just—it’s hard to explain.” He moves his hand back. “But I can’t…I can’t feel it right now.”

“Oh, that’s probably not good.”

”We should go.”

“Hey, if it ever feels like you can summon him again? Do it, then get the rest of us back.”

Thomas nods, watching as Virgil grabs Patton and they sink out. He sits slowly on the couch, staring into the middle distance as he keeps moving his hand around his chest. It’s strange; he normally doesn’t even have to put a hand to himself to feel where Roman is. He wasn’t lying before, it really is like this warmth that just lives in his chest, like a second heart almost, one that doesn’t really beat so much as just exist there. Like it’s reminding him that he’s, you know, a human with feelings and wants and desires and that’s okay.

Oh, Roman, buddy, where are you?

***

Remus steps into the Imagination and his knees almost buckle immediately.

Bluish-black storm clouds gather and bruise a dark grey sky overlooking a massive craggy cliff rising impossibly high. Vividly green grass and terribly purple flowers bloom deep inside the crevices of the rocks lining the path in front of him, the smell of fresh rain hanging so heavy that it seems it would fall any moment. In the distance he can see evergreens, smell them even though they must be miles away, and another mountain rising behind them with thin, wispy clouds stretching red fingers over its peak. The ground is warm under him, as though he were standing over an active volcano, but he can see and hear and smell the river that flows by just to the side of him, and the breeze that comes from it is cool and damp. His fingers twitch. So does his nose. He takes a deep, deep breath and takes a step forward.

With every step he takes, the more an uncertain feeling takes root at the base of his stomach. it’s too sweet to be panic, too frenzied to be melancholy, and too lonely to be wonder. He keeps walking. The Imagination is always impossibly vivid, impossibly beautiful, but something about this feels…different.

His chest feels tight.

As he moves past a larger collection of boulders, he rounds the corner as he spots a tree. A massive tree, one where the branches curl outwards and upwards like color diffusing into clear water. Some part of Remus—a part that sounds a lot like Logan, if he’s being honest—mutters how a tree like this couldn’t exist, not in these mountains, not with its roots in these rocks. And yet, here it grows all the same. He moves toward it, the tightness in his chest growing with every step.

At the base of the tree lies the hilt of a katana.

“R-Ro?” Remus collapses in front of the tree, shaking hands touching the trunk. The bark flakes away under his fingers and the smallest glimmers of gold shine up. “Roro…oh, Ro, what happened?”

“Remus? Remus!”

“Whoa, what the hell is this place?”

Remus can’t tear his eyes away from the tree long enough to see them but he can hear the others rush up behind him. He just paws weakly at the trunk and Logan’s muffled gasp is all he needs to hear before he starts sobbing.

“Oh, no,” Logan mumbles, “Roman’s…something’s happened to Roman. He’s—Remus, has he Faded? Or is this something else?”

“He’s been Forgotten,” Remus sobs, “the—the Imagination put him back where—where he wasn’t Roman anymore and he’s—he’s—“

Another sob leaves his throat.

“I want my brother back!”

“But we remember him,” Patton says, “we—we do, he’s Roman, we want him back, why—why is he here still?”

“I don’t think he knows we’re here,” Virgil says, glancing around, “I think he’s—I think he’s here sort of, but not in the Roman we know.”

“So what do we do? How do we get him back?”

Remus is still touching the tree. The clouds overhead start to rumble with distant thunder. He presses himself up against it, hugging it tightly.

“Come back, Ro-bro,” he mumbles into the bark, “came back, I want you to come back.”

“Logan? What do we do?”

“There has to be a reason he’s manifesting like this, doesn’t there?” Logan turns around, looking at the mountains, the sky, the river, the rocks, the tree. “Nature, the natural world, he’s become a tree so some kind of growth? Reincarnation? Transcendence?”

“Maybe it has more to do with Roman?” Janus’s against the bark near Remus’s head. “Creativity? Ego? Romance?”

“Romance…Romance…Romance, of course, Roman’s Romance!”

“What about this seems particularly romantic to you?”

“That’s it, it’s not romantic, it’s Romantic. The Romantic movement, the whole—oh, Roman,” Logan says softly, resting his hands on the trunk too, “I’m sorry that you didn’t feel like you could talk to us.”

“How in the hell are you getting all of that from Roman being a tree?”

”The Romantic period was in reaction to the balance and calm of the Classical. Heightened emotion, the irrational, the subjective, all of these became key themes. It was far more important to preserve the spirit and individuality of the artist rather than any sort of adherence to strict rules or traditional procedures.” Logan’s hand runs over the bark. “As well as a focus on the inner struggles of the exceptional figure.”

“And Princey’s the exceptional figure?”

”In a manner of speaking.” Logan presses his other hand to the tree too. “Roman? Are you here?”

A breeze ruffles through the leaves.

“Was that him?” Patton rushes forward and touches the tree. “Roman? Roman, kiddo, are you there?”

Another low boom of distant thunder and it starts to rain.

“Quick, everyone touch the tree.” Everyone puts their hands on it. ‘Roman? Roman, can you feel that? We’re all here, we’re all right here.”

The thunder grows louder. They wait there with bated breath as the tree rustles in the breeze, until Janus, who hadn’t clutched down with the rest of them, hears a crackle from up in the clouds.

“Get back!”

They all fling themselves away just as lightning strikes the tree, the very top of it catching fire as the trunk splits down the middle. Jagged bits of wood just into the open air like fractured ribs. And there, in the center of the splitting trunk—

—is Roman.

“Ro!” Remus howls and dives forward, wrenching his brother’s body out of the tree and dragging him to lie on the flat stone. “Ro, wake up, wake up, you have to be okay, you have to be!”

“…Re?”

Remus sobs again, throwing his arms around Roman who looks up at them with quiet confusion.

“What’s going on?”

“You left,” Janus spits, “you vanished and we didn’t know where you were so we had to come look for you.”

“J,” Virgil says lowly, before crouching down, “you went missing, Roman. We couldn’t find you. Why, uh, why were you in a tree?”

Roman frowns. “I don’t know. I…I was in my room, and you were forgetting me—“

“What do you mean, we were forgetting you?”

Roman blinks. “You were forgetting me. You were going to Remus. Remus is the Creativity that’s helping more. You weren’t thinking about me.”

“That’s not true,” Patton mumbles, horrified, even as Roman gestures around with a wordless if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here, “we…we love you, Roman.”

Roman just shrugs. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean, ‘maybe?’” Janus splutters. “That’s not a thing you get to say maybe about, Roman.”

Roman doesn’t even flinch, just turns slightly so he can rest his head against Remus’s.

“You don’t even have anything to say for yourself?”

“Janus,” Logan says sharply, “that’s enough.”

”Roman disappears, he turns into a tree, he says we’re forgetting him and that we don’t love him, and we’re just supposed to accept it?” Janus throws his hands up. “How are you three so calm about this?”

“I’m not calm, but I’m not going to make this about me right now!”

“Janus,” Roman says softly and they instantly fall quiet, “you’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know how I became a tree. I didn’t mean to imply you guys had forgotten me entirely. I shouldn’t have said you don’t love me.”

Janus’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He huffs a little awkwardly and folds his arms. “Well. Good.”

”Are…we done now?”

“What? No, Princey, we’re not done, we—“ Virgil runs a hand through his hair— “you turned into a tree. After you vanished. How the hell are we—what do we do now?”

Roman shrugs.

Remus, who has been lying on top of Roman for this whole thing, feels one of the hands under him begin to meld with the stone. He draws back, alarmed, only for Roman’s fingers to come free and lace with his. He squints at Roman’s face, noticing the barely-there tremble of his lip, and whips around to face the other three.

“You three. Fingers. Ears. Song. Now.”

‘What?”

“Do it!”

It takes them a second but they begrudgingly put their fingers in their ears and start mumbling things to avoid listening. Remus glares at them for a moment longer before turning back to Roman.

‘Hey,” he whispers, “what’s wrong?”

Roman’s lip trembles again. “They’re still here,” he whispers back, “I just—I just want to hurt.”

‘What do you mean?”

“They’ll be mad at me for whatever’s going on, they’ll—I don’t want them to explain or tell me how what I’m doing is bad, or anything like that. I don’t want their—I don’t want their comfort,” Roman whispers, his voice getting thick, “I just want to be hurt by myself and have that be okay.”

“Of course that’s okay, Ro.”

“Because they did forget me. It’s not your fault or anything but they did and it hurts, Re—“

“I know, I know, shh, shh, hey, hey,” he says, “let’s do this: we need to go tell good old Thomathy that we found you, so let’s you and me go do that and then we can have our own cat pile wherever you want, okay? Just you and me. The others can you suck a tree branch.”

“Won’t they be mad?”

“Tell you what: you go to Thomas right now, I’ll deal with them, and then I’ll come after.”

“…I’m sorry I left again, Re.”

“Pshh. Water under the Kraken.”

***

Thomas shoots up from the couch as Roman rises up in his normal place.

“Roman! You’re okay!” He yes the scratches as bruises from the tree. ‘Well, mostly.”

Roman rubs the back of his head. “Yeah. I’m…sorry.”

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay, buddy. As long as you’re okay.”

Roman blinks. “Wait, really?”

‘Yeah, bud. You, uh…it looks like you’ve been through some stuff.”

“…that’s one way to put it.”

“Do you, uh talk about it?”

“Not really.”

‘Okay.”

“Wait, you’re sure?”

‘Yeah. It’s your business. I, uh, I’ll be here if you do want to?”

“Thanks, Thomas.”

“Of course, buddy. You’re great.” Thomas scratches the back of his head too. ‘I know we, uh, haven’t always been the best at saying stuff out loud to each other, that’s normally what the others do, but…you know I’d never replace you for anything, right?”

Roman smiles. He really, truly smiles. And for just a moment, the entire Mindscape fades away, leaving just the two of them standing in this one little room. A man and his Ego, smiling at each other.

The setting sun peeks in through the blinds and the room glows with a rich, bright red.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #roman angst #roman sanders #roman sanders angst #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months

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Penny Luckstone please come back to Aguefort just for a second some musty bitch is trying to steal your thunder

#dragonbabbles #penny luckstone #dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #the seven

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months

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Being the bigger person this growing as a student that if there is not a scene at the end of fantasy high Junior year where Gorgug, having saved the world YET AGAIN, with all the bad kids behind him, tells Porter to fucking SUCK IT I don’t want it

#let me live out the fantasy of telling a shitty teacher who made you doubt yourself to go fuck themselves #give it to me and all of us who had to just shut up and take it #gorgug thistlespring is a legend and an icon and you would BE SO LUCKY to help him in that #fuck you porter #gorgug thistlespring #fantasy high junior year #dimension 20 #dragonbabbles #i do have opinions on the matter

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 months

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Not a Bad Holiday Season

Hey! I hope you had a great holiday season! I was wondering if you could write something sweet about Virgil and Logan after the secret Santa episode. No pressure ofc, Thank you you’re the best <3 – lapassemirrior

Read on Ao3

Pairings: none

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1225

“No, but that doesn’t work within the context of the other clues…”

Virgil smiles as he ambles down the hallway, listening to the soft mutterings on the other side of Logan’s door. From the sounds of it, Logan’s hardly stopped to breathe since he figured out that the newspaper wasn’t just a newspaper. He hesitates for a moment, just a moment, before knocking on the door.

“Come in?”

“Hey,” he says as he steps through, “wanted to check if you—whoa.”

He thinks he can be forgiven for truly coming to a dead stop when he sees the fucking conspiracy board Logan’s got where his whiteboard usually is. The original newspaper is still on his desk, the eye in the hurricane of notebooks, pens, and paper strewn about, but he’s made copies of certain parts and pinned them to a corkboard. Fucking hell, he’s even got bits of red string connecting picture to picture—if he didn’t know any better, he’d ask if Logan were working with Roman or Remus on some film noir idea.

“Virgil?”

He snaps himself out of it. “Sorry, I, uh, I guess I’m glad you’re having fun?”

Logan’s face splits into an almost manic grin—shit, maybe he really has been spending too much time with Remus. “This is incredible, Virgil, I can’t properly express my gratitude until I’ve completed your puzzle. I have to ask: did you do all of this truly by yourself?”

Virgil scratches the back of his head. “Eh. I may have gotten Princey to help with some of it.”

Logan frowns. “Roman?”

“Well, yeah, he is Creativity too. And he’s—okay, I’m not gonna spoil it ‘cause it’s his idea, but he has this thing he’s doing right now that’s gonna be really, really cool when he gets around to showing it off, so—“

He trails off when he sees Logan still frowning at his desk. He takes a step closer, nudging him with an elbow.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It really is nothing,” he says, “I suppose I’m surprised that Roman would be willing to…help you with such a thing.”

Virgil frowns. The irritation that Logan had expressed when he’d first looked at the newspaper, the almost resignation he’d had when he’d immediately moved on, it’s starting to show in his face right now.

“L,” he says, trying to get his attention, “why is it surprising?”

“Well,” Logan huffs, adjusting his tie, “you know.”

”I don’t. Can you tell me?”

“It’s Roman.”

“Yeah. Creativity. Making things. Doing stuff for us.”

“For you,” Logan corrects, still not meeting his gaze, “not necessarily for me.”

That’s funny. As Virgil remembers it, Roman had been hesitant to help him at all until he’d told him it was for Logan. Then he was practically climbing all over him to help out.

“But perhaps in the spirit of the holiday, then—“

“Logan.”

Logan stops. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Virgil lets him, waiting until he’s put his glasses back on and sat down. He leans against the edge of the desk and waits.

”That was unfair of me to say,” he mumbles, “wasn’t it?”

“Maybe a bit.”

“I…didn’t mean it to be spiteful.”

“You sure?”

“…maybe slightly.”

Virgil chuckles, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s okay. I know you and Princey have your moments.”

“But I have those with everyone,” Logan continues, staring off into space, “even—even with you. When I didn’t realize what your gift was at first, I…”

“Hey,” Virgil murmurs when Logan’s breath hitches just a bit too much for his liking, “you’re okay. It’s—look, the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, it’s not fair of me to hold it against you.”

“Thank you.”

“And, uh, I think any ARG that loudly screams hey, look at me, I’m a big fucking puzzle kinda fails at being an entertaining ARG—“ Logan snorts— “so I don’t blame you for taking a second to get it either.”

Logan hums, leaning against Virgil’s side. His glasses squish slightly into his ribs and he turns to fix it. “You’re right.”

“And hey, you really look like you’re enjoying it.” He gestures to the board. “You got your red string out and everything.”

“Well, I realized that I could take notes on my computer or in the notebook, but…” He can hear the moment the smile curls up his face. “I decided I might as well have fun with it.”

“That’s the whole point.”

“Thank you,” he says, softer now, turning to look up at him, “I really do like the present.”

Virgil chuckles. “I got that. Glad you’re having fun. What part are you at?”

“Part?”

“How much of it have you solved already?”

“I’ve just gotten to the QR code you managed to hide inside the picture—how did you do that, by the way? No, no—“ Logan holds up a hand as Virgil starts to explain— “don’t tell me just yet, I’ll make a list to ask you once I’ve finished everything.”

Virgil just grins and holds up his hands, stepping back as he watches Logan get up and start working on something again. He wanders over to the board after a moment, looking at all the pieces. Shit, he knew Logan would be good at this, but Janus would pop up if he said he’s a little disappointed that some of the puzzles didn’t take him longer.

Though, he notices with a grin, it doesn’t look like Logan’s cracked the big one yet. That’ll be something to look forward too.

“But enough about that,” Logan says, “did you come here for anything specific?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Pat and Princey are making a fucking feast for dinner and they’ve asked the rest of us to put together a movie marathon. If you, uh, if you’re willing to step away for a sec?”

“Certainly. Give me one moment…” Logan scribbles something else down on the piece of paper and pins it to the board—damnit, he got that one too, he really is good at this, maybe he should’ve made it harder— “there. Alright, what is everyone thinking? There are a few generic thrillers that have come out recently, Remus was talking about a disaster movie—“

“Wait, they made another one?”

Logan rolls his eyes as they head out to the hall. “It’s quite a profitable genre, despite the rampant suspension of disbelief that’s necessary for full immersion, so yes, I’m sure they did.”

“I don’t know about you, but I think not having to think too much sounds like a good thing.”

Logan chuckles. “Yes, well, you’ve been kind enough to give me quite the puzzle to keep me entertained for a while.”

“I really am glad you like it, L.”

“May I be honest?” Virgil nods and Logan glances around, leaning a bit closer. “Even if it had just been a newspaper, I still would have appreciated it as it came from you.”

Well. Shit. Now he’s blushing. And Logan’s looking at him like that and yep, they’re going to find the others right now.

All in all, not such a bad holiday season.

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #fic

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

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In honor of ace week, shoutout to all my fellow ace/aro babes who are in that weird half closet

#am out as ace and not as aro to some people #am out as queer as in what’s it to ya to some others #I see you #so the first rule is if its about me @ me so i can see it #dragonbabbles #ace #asexual #asexuality #aro #aromatic

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 9 days

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Language Barriers

same anon as like 5 minutes ago, I remembered the fluffy prompt! Could you write a Sanders Sides DLAMPR fic (before they get together) where all of the Sides have different love languages? And they’re all trying to flirt in their own way, but the others keep misinterpreting it? A lot of TSS fic features the Sides having different love languages (and I’d like to think they do, in canon), but I’ve yet to see a fic that specifically focuses on that fact and describes the differences between love languages. Feel free to ignore, and remember to take care of yourself! – anon

hey I love love love love LOVE your writing! If you’re open to prompts rn, I’ve just reread your story "Idiots, Idiots, Everywhere" and it’s awesome, thanks very much, BUT. Are you willing to write a Sanders Sides fic where it focuses more specifically on all the Sides having different love languages? Bonus points if it’s DLAMPR (but platonic PR, this is an incest-free household) and all the Sides are like “…but he’s like this with everyone”. No pressure at ALL, but it’d be cool to see how you approach that. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 3431

Or, five times the Sides misunderstood each other's love languages, and one time Thomas got fed up with it and decided to just...explain it to them with the efficiency they have when they're trying to explain something to him. Which is to say: it takes them a second to get it. The Imagination helps.

Physical Touch

If you were to ask anyone, they would tell you that Patton loves giving people hugs.

It’s the bane of some of their existences, they’d try to claim, and the others might just shrug and say that’s Patton for you. He knows his kiddos love it, at least a little bit. But he won’t lie, he does love a good hug. There’s just something so magical about how, out of all the shapes humans could have possibly been, they’re just perfectly designed to hold one another. Isn’t that just perfect?

Logan would probably say something about evolution and adaptation to the needs of their environment, or something, but he’s not gonna rain on Patton’s parade. Humans are hug-shaped, so they’re gonna hug. Besides, he’s not complaining when he’s working downstairs in the winter and he’s gotten too absorbed in his work and then a Patton-shaped heating pad just comes along and hugs him.

Patton loves hugging all of the Sides. Logan because he’s always so surprised by it, in a good way! He gets this soft little look that is almost on the edge of a smile, like he wasn’t expecting it but it’s the best possible outcome he never could have predicted. Or when he’s trying to comfort Patton and he hugs with undeniable certainty.

Virgil is also fun to hug, because he’s such a pouty-face about it. He snuggles up as much as any of them but he has to put on his mopey show first, just in case anyone’s watching. Virgil also gives the mopey hugs too, but then he makes himself just a bit bigger so he can wrap all the way around Patton. Which is the best.

Speaking of wrapping all the way around, Janus has six arms and he uses every single one of them. They get into competitions sometimes—not serious! It’s all for fun!—about who can surprise-hug each other the worst. Or best. Janus is currently winning from the time he managed to make himself look like the chair in the living room with a blanket over it; Patton sat down and boo!

Remus isn’t allowed to do surprise hugs, not after he accidentally tackled Patton into his Kraken’s pond and they had to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get out of the pond. But Remus’s hugs are the kind that squish his soul right back into his body and ugh, there’s nothing better than that after a long day. Besides, it’s not like expecting Remus’s hugs takes anything away, he’s still going to squeeze him so hard he might not be able to breathe for a few seconds, but that’s Remus!

And then with Roman—Roman hugs the way every single knight from a fairytale should hug. He just makes you feel safe and precious and like nothing in the world could hurt you. It’s why Patton always sits next to Roman during scary movie nights, after all, even if he gets teased about it a little. Roman doesn’t mind.

So yes, Patton does love hugging all of them. But it doesn’t have to be hugging! It can be holding hands, or just leaning against each other, just as long as he can feel them and tell himself yes, they’re okay, they’re right here, I love them.

Because he does. He loves them terribly. Even if they think he’s just a big fan of hugs.

***

2. Quality Time

Virgil has the reputation of being the cat of the Mindscape for good reason. Not because he hisses at things that don’t cooperate—the other Sides are not excluded from this—and not because he spits up hairballs—it was one time, Remus, and it was entirely your fault—but because he has a habit of just appearing in the same room and hanging out for a while.

…alright, it’s not a habit, he does it on purpose.

Companionable silence really is the best way to go about things. You’re both close enough to talk if you want to, but each of them is allowed to do their own thing and hey, there’s another person doing their own thing too. Which is why it’s his favorite way of hanging out with Logan, especially when he needs to make sure that something gets done. He’s always down to affectionately bully Logan into whatever he asks him to make sure he does.

He does that with Remus too, but it’s not exactly the same: Remus needs someone to make sure he doesn’t actually destroy anything, and he’s more than happy to oblige. Especially since he likes to get a bit of a heads-up before a rampaging beast goes barreling through the kitchen at some ungodly hour of the morning.

If he’s never beating the cat allegations, Janus sure as hell isn’t helping. There’s a big window in the Dark Sides’ half of the Mindscape that is perfect for lying in for, oh, a few hours on end. Remus has many—too many, if you ask Virgil—pictures of the two of them just basking in the sun, dozing like they haven’t got a care in the world.

Virgil’s actual favorite place to sleep is with his head in Patton’s lap. Especially after he’s just finished baking, when he’s all warm from the oven and he smells like sugar and spice…Virgil will sit on the counter or the floor and listen to Patton talk about whatever he wants and then while the oven bakes, he’ll fall asleep right in Patton’s lap. He even gets first dibs on whatever just got made.

Roman makes a game of it. He’s the Prince, every good Prince needs a rogue to work with. They trek all over the Imagination, having adventures, defeating monsters, it’s the perfect mix of Roman’s quests and Virgil’s need to be a creepy little shit in every dark corner he can find. Being with Roman even makes boring council meetings fun, because he gets to terrify the idiots that they’re just gonna fight later anyway and he gets to spend time with Roman.

He doesn’t care what he’s doing, not really, just as long as he can spend time with them. He just…wishes they would understand that sometimes.

***

3. Words of Affirmation

Logan is no stranger to impostor syndrome, but that doesn’t mean he has to allow it to plague those he cares for. Understanding something to be true on an intellectual level and feeling the validation that comes from hearing someone else voice it are two very different things. The other Sides are each remarkable in their own right. They deserve to hear it.

Patton is kind. He does not say that lightly: kind people who choose to be kind because they know how difficult it is are not individuals to be trifled with. Patton makes the conscious choice to try and be better every single day. He is earnest and sincere, sometimes painfully so, but he does not allow himself to be dissuaded by obstacles. How could Logan not want to express his admiration?

And Roman…oh, Roman is a wonder. There is so much that goes into his work that often goes unnoticed, or underappreciated, and it is a crime that Logan too often finds himself on the wrong side of that line. Roman is clever and funny and has a work ethic that, truly, rivals Logan’s own. For every slight he makes, however unintentional, he tries his best to make up for it by telling Roman in no uncertain terms how honored Logan is to be part of his creative process.

Remus is an entirely different story, no pun intended. Remus is unabashedly and unapologetically himself, and as such is a marvel to behold. He cares not for the sanitization or reduction of anything in his work, and so Logan does his best to follow suit. Remus is who he is, and it is beautiful.

He tells Janus he’s beautiful too. And not once is he lying. The first time he did it, Janus laughed in his face, at least until he realized Logan was telling the truth. He then didn’t see Janus for an entire week. It ended when a little snake plushie appeared outside of his door in the middle of the night with a tiny note that just said thank you. He tells Janus he’s beautiful every chance he gets now.

Virgil is his little alley cat. Perfectly fine to approach on his terms, but will let him know with no uncertainties when he’s getting a little too close. It doesn’t help that Virgil is quite fun to tease, even if all he’s doing is giving him compliments—true compliments, mind you—and watching in amusement as Virgil curls up into a ball with his hood pulled down over his ears as if that could hide how red they are. He’s not cruel about it, of course; he stops the moment Virgil appears genuinely uncomfortable and there are certain topics he doesn’t go near. But Virgil can’t always hide his little grin and so on it goes.

He’s quite happy to shower them with his words, he just…doesn’t know if they’d believe him if he said I love you.

***

4. Acts of Service

Words are difficult. There is so much ambiguity to be found in even the most basic of sentences, and when it comes to matters like this, Janus prefers to take as few chances as possible. Whoever coined the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words,’ Janus definitely owes a drink for how spot-on it is.

Whenever Patton needs a hand in the kitchen, he’s always the first to volunteer. He can do up to three things in the time it would take another Side to do just one, after all, and he’s had enough experience cooking for the troublemakers (Virgil and Remus) to know how to get around most of their pranks. And how to get them back.

Logan, bless him, has a tendency to overwork himself at the best of times. And in doing so, he gets these terrible knots and cramps in his neck and shoulders from hunching over his desk for hours on end. It might not be the most polite of things to practically blackmail his way into giving Logan a massage, but the poor dear always falls right to sleep so he mustn’t mind too much.

Remus and his delightful menagerie of creatures often need more than their fair share of attention. He had to pester Remus into getting him a raincoat and muck boots that could withstand the acidic slime, but weekend mornings found them strolling cheerfully through pens and cages and paddocks, tending to the bizarre flock. Anything to make the chore more of a fun activity and less of, well, a chore, when Remus really doesn’t suit stressed-out frowns as well as manic grins.

Virgil has a terrible habit of not asking for reassurance when he needs it. Janus regrets the part he played in making it that way. So, no matter how small and stupid Virgil may think it is, whenever he asks for help, Janus gives it. A tug on his cloak or a soft please will have him do anything from turn the light in the hallway on to checking the poor thing over for wounds after a brutal nightmare. It took long enough for Janus to re-earn that trust, he’s not going to lose it if he can damn well help it.

Out of everyone in the Mindscape, only Roman truly appreciates his love of theater. Sure, the others are game to help out here and there, but when it comes to the art of make-believe, Roman is the proud owner of Janus’s ‘yes-and’ partnership. The two of them make all sorts of stories together, from villains and heroes to morally grey adventurers, to simple fairytales and old plays. Roman needs someone else to help him play the roles and Janus is more than happy to play with him.

Perhaps one day, he might be able to reveal that everything he does for them, he does because it’s them, but for now, he’ll happily play the role they expect of him.

***

5. Gifts

Roman and Remus do not, in fact, fight over who gets to give the most presents to the other Sides.

Instead, they fight over whose idea they work on first.

For Logan, Remus’s self-writing pen narrowly won out over Roman’s proposal for a never-ending notebook, if only because said pen squirted ink into Roman’s mouth before he could finish his argument. They ended up giving both to Logan at the same time, but the pen was decidedly on top and did its own little celebratory wriggle when Logan used it for the first time.

Remus nearly challenged Roman to a formal duel when it came to designing a heat lamp for Janus that wouldn’t run the same risk of burning out the electricity in their section of the Mindscape. They managed to agree on everything up to the design on the lampshade. Roman said it should be a yellow snake, curled up and sleeping, and Remus wanted it to be a big leaf that Janus could lay under like he was actually outside. The compromise was eventually reached over many hours of almost bloodshed and now the sleeping snake under a leaf is a staple in the corner of Janus’s room.

Roman cleverly proposed Virgil’s weighted blanket while Remus was being crushed under said blanket, leaving not a lot of wiggle room until he had to agree. Of course, he promptly fell asleep and cuddled Roman into a pile of goo, so technically they made both the blanket and the plushie at around the same time. Virgil still brings the little skeleton to movie nights.

Patton gets their presents one after the other, because you need one to understand the other’s context. A rebreather designed to slip on over the person’s face just like any other face mask, to filter out particulates and allergens. Something that could be worn for up to two consecutive hours before it needed to be recharged.

The other present was a box full of kittens.

”Ro?”

“Yeah?”

Remus pushes his goggles to the top of his head and looks over the desk. “Do you think they’ll ever get it?”

Roman sighs, closing his notebook and leaning back to stretch. “I don’t know, Re. I love them, really, they just…”

”Don’t realize.”

“Yeah. It’s okay, though. We’ll get there eventually.”

“Of course we will. Hand me that wrench, would you?”

“The one that’s covered in guts, or the one that’s made out of foam?”

“The foam one. I need to whack this thing but I don’t wanna hit it too hard.”

“I’m not gonna ask any more questions.”

***

+1: I Love You

”Hey!” Patton rises up first, clapping his hands. “Oh. I’m the only one here.”

“Only by a moment,” Logan says as he joins him. “Is Thomas here?”

“No, I just got summoned by—well, I thought it was Thomas but he’s not here.”

“Whoa, hey!” Virgil appears on the staircase. “What’s going on? I was in the middle of watching someone.”

“Don’t you mean ‘something?’” Remus appears, covered in slime and cackling. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve got it,” Roman says, rising up and spraying his brother with something that somehow manages to dissolve all the goo without staining or spraying anything else. “There. Now maybe you’ll think twice about surprising Uma when she’s feeding?”

“Oh, I’m gonna do this so many more times!”

”I felt the exasperation from my room,” Janus sighs, appearing, “what’s Remus done now?”

“Why did you assume it was Remus?” Janus just looks at Logan. “Fair enough.”

”Now that we’re all here, what is this about?” He looks around, frowning. “Where’s Thomas?”

“That’s weird, is he not the one who called for a meeting?”

“What’s that?” Virgil reaches out and picks up a piece of paper from the coffee table. “‘Each one of you needs a card, find the matches.’ What cards?”

“Here.” Logan picks up something that fell when Virgil picked up the paper. “There are only five of them, though, and six of us.”

“What do they say?”

“Let me see…one says ‘Physical Touch,’ one says ‘Acts of Service,’ one says…oh, I see.”

“I don’t,” Patton says, “can you share with the class?”

“Wait, wait, I think I know what this is, is one of them ‘Quality Company’ or something?”

“‘Quality Time,’ yes.”

Roman nods. “It’s the Five Love Languages.”

“Thomas doesn’t even speak Spanish!”

“No, no, Padre, not literal languages, it’s…it’s the ways you express your affection for someone. How you tell them you love them. There’s five: physical touch, acts of service, quality time…”

“‘Words of Affirmation,’” Logan continues, reading off the other cards, “and ‘Gifts.’”

Virgil hunches his shoulders. “So what, are we supposed to pick one?”

“I believe the intention of the exercise is to…select which one is our love language.”

Janus huffs. “Why? What does Thomas have to gain from doing something like this? And where is he?”

“Maybe he’s not the one who summoned us.”

“Well then who did?”

“Maybe if we do the thing we can find out.”

Janus sighs, peering over Logan’s shoulder and squinting. “I guess this one’s mine, then.”

“‘Acts of Service?’ Very well. I suppose I’ll take ‘Words of Affirmation.’”

“Can I have the touch one?”

“Certainly.”

“Twins get ‘Gifts,’ obviously,” Virgil mutters, “which means I get the…time one, or whatever.”

Logan hands out the last two cards and they stand there for a moment, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing does.

Patton looks back down at his card. “Wait, did you say these are how we tell people we love them?”

“That is a simple definition of this, why?”

“Because you guys do these with everyone!”

There’s a pause. Logan adjusts his glasses. “Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but…yes, I do indeed give you all words of affirmation, because, well…”

“Aww,” Virgil says, “do you love us, Logan?”

Logan coughs, blushes, and adjusts his tie. “I believe that is a logical conclusion, yes.”

“Aww!” Patton squeals. “I love you guys too!”

”So whoever set this up knew that we were all trying to tell each other that—“ Roman starts.

“—and needed to hammer it into our heads what was happening,” Remus finishes.

“Well,” Janus sniffs, even as a smile threatens the corners of his mouth, “how dramatic.”

Virgil tugs on the strings of his hoodie. “Yeah. How dramatic.”

There’s another pause.

Roman coughs. “Uh, this seems like a good a time as any, um…Remus and I put together a festival thing in the Imagination for everyone, if you want to…if you want to come and see it.”

“It has everyone’s favorite state fair stuff,” Remus sands, “and there’s supposed to be a northern-lights kind of thing after it gets dark.”

“Can we cuddle?”

“Of course.”

“Will there be food?”

“Your favorite, shadow-ling.”

“You two are so thoughtful,” Logan says softly, “I would love to come.”

“I can get the good blankets from the closet,” Janus offers, and everyone grins, “should we meet there in ten?”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

The Imagination is just happy they finally sorted it out. Now, to give the six of them a group date they’ll never forget…

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #logan sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #virgil sanders

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 20 days

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Can I just say something I’ve truly missed about Star Trek Discovery with all the shows and stuff I’ve been watching is that these characters genuinely, unironically, wholeheartedly love each other

They tease each other and banter yeah but there’s genuine appreciation and fondness and respect for everyone, regardless of where they are, and it’s so lovely and refreshing?? Like yeah shits wild and the universe is complicated but we love each other and that’s what’s gonna get us through this

idk man I missed this ship of nonsense machines

#dragonbabbles #star trek discovery #star trek #i do have opinions on the matter

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 months

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Hypermobility

Okay wait I have a prompt!!! If you wanna So I've been reading a lot of fics recently that are in space aus, with the whole humans are deathworlders concept (idk how this is common across my fandoms but it is so I'm binging them lol). And I had an idea based on recent irl events. – anon (long ask, cut for brevity)

inspired by my lovely @ghostofasecretary who has trained all of our friend group to look for hypermobility on account of our schlorpy joints :)

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: loosely implied analogical i guess, but as with most of my shit can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count; 1809

Remus glances up to see Virgil staring at Logan like his abdomen has spontaneously ruptured. He sees Roman out of the corner of his eye do the same. Virgil swallows heavily. "L," he says slowly, "what the fuck is wrong with your arms?" "Nothing is wrong with my arms, what are you talking about?" "Elbows don't bend like that!" Ah. So there was something wrong. Remus was right. Take that, human etiquette manual. Wait, shit, something's wrong with Logan.

Roman clicks at Remus as he comes onto the lab floor. Remus clicks back as he logs onto his station, sighing as he looks at the absolute mess someone's fucking made of the logs—seriously, it's only been one quarter cycle, how are they this fucked up already?—and Roman immediately leans over to see what he's sighing at.

"Wait, what's that?"

"Some xetron made an absolute fucking disaster out of the hadron logs."

Roman winces in sympathy and his carapace shifts. "Are you gonna do yours before you clean that up, or—?"

The last part of his question gest interrupted when Logan comes onto the floor, waving a brief hello with his fingers instead of his antenna—because humans don't have antennae, which was a pretty sharp learning curve for both of them when they'd been so confused as to why this human was refusing to talk to them or even show his feelings, they'd had a few apologetic shifts before Logan realized what was going on and explained everything—and raising an eyebrow when he noticed them clustered around Remus's station.

"Is there something wrong?"

"The shift before us messed up their hadron logs."

Logan rolls his eyes. "You'd think that for life forms insistent that their gravitational curves made them more naturally prepared for graviton scans, they'd have a better sense of how to record them properly."

"You're spellcasting on the acolytes, Logan."

Logan frowns, glancing at his tablet, before the equivalent phrase pings on the screen and he hums. "Ah, I see. Yes, well, if you'd like my help at any point, I only have the routine gamma sweeps to do this shift, so I should be amenable."

"Oh, I can do it, it's just a pain in my thorax."

Roman chuckles and heads back to his own station, probably to sneakily-not-so-sneakily ask some of the others on the shift who are fucking competent what the fuck happened. Remus gets himself ready to dive into the long and tedious work of redoing the spin increments and calculating the proper uncertainties for the right variables—honestly, do they even look at the readouts? It has the layout right there! And it's not like the other logs are invisible! Just look at the rows two microns above the empty one you're supposed to be filling out!—and manages to sink into a rhythm for the first half of the shift. Granted, he's absolutely muttering about how stupid it is that they aren't even calculating the basic momentum, let alone the angular velocity to account for the other celestial bodies in the middle of the waveforms, but it's fine, and Roman keeps up his running commentary of the molecular analysis machine that takes its sweet-ass time to do even the most basic of scans, and every so often he'll hear a small huff from Logan as he corrects their probe's trajectory, but for the most part, the lab is a quiet and serene place to be.

God, he can't wait until he gets rotated back to the engineering department full-time.

Like, yeah, he likes spending time with his brother, and the human's cool—he's really funny when he lets himself be, like his wit is drying than the mountain deserts on Cre-Ativa, and his facial expressions are fucking plat when their superiors are being xetrons, but there's only so much he can take of this quiet where not much happens. And he has to deal with the idiots who don't know how to format hadron logs correctly. This is the third time he's had to correct a typo that's rendered the rest of the calculations useless.

"I'm honestly about to recommend them for a review of the training course, that's how fucking serious this is."

"Maybe there's something wrong with how the keyboard is adapted for their limbs?"

"That would explain some of the typos, not all of them. And it definitely wouldn't explain why there's a massive formatting change about halfway through."

"Perhaps there's a shorthand they're using for some of the notes that we don't know about, and they're forgetting to correct them at the end of their shift."

"Yeah, but then they should tell us that, instead of—" Roman trails off and Remus looks up.

Logan is…stretching, yes, that's the right word. His limbs are extended over his head and his back is arched, but his upper limbs are…bending. Not like the way they normally bend, they're bending…too much? Not enough? The wrong way? Yeah, that's it. The wrong way.

Logan notices they've gone quiet and looks over. "Is there something wrong?"

"You're, uh," Remus stammers, "are you—okay?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, what is it?"

"Nothing, nothing."

He and Roman exchange a look—the first rule in the human etiquette training manual was if they get weird, just roll with it for a reason—and get back to minding their own business. Admittedly, some of the errors do make more sense now that he's looking at it like it's some kind of shorthand he doesn't know yet, but that wouldn't explain why some of these variables are straight-up wrong and why they wouldn't bother to tell him what the shorthand is so that he's not trying to do the work of two shifts in the time of one.

Something he does appreciate is that the way the shifts in the lab are set up, opposed to engineering, is that sometimes there will be people whose shifts halfway overlap with theirs. So there's always at least one set of people that are staying in the lab while a changeover is happening and then there's not that risk that the equipment will be left unattended. Apparently they learned that lesson the hard way when the molecular exhibitor decided to go into overload in the five minutes where there wasn't anyone logged in, and nearly destroyed the matter wave projector on the station next to it. The justification was in the name of safety, but really everyone knows it's just so the higher-ups know exactly who to blame when shit goes awry.

Whatever the case may be, the door slides open to reveal the other human down here, Virgil, yawning as he makes his way over to his station.

"Hello, hello, everyone."

"Hi, Virgil!"

Virgil winces. "You are way too chipper this early in the morning."

"It's past the circadian half cycle, Virgil."

"Yeah, and?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to acclimate to your schedule on your own time," Logan says, stretching again, "even though I'm sure your caffeine tolerance has—what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Remus glances up to see Virgil staring at Logan like his abdomen has spontaneously ruptured. He sees Roman out of the corner of his eye do the same. Virgil swallows heavily.

"L," he says slowly, "what the fuck is wrong with your arms?"

"Nothing is wrong with my arms, what are you talking about?"

"Elbows don't bend like that!"

Ah. So there was something wrong. Remus was right. Take that, human etiquette manual.

Wait, shit, something's wrong with Logan.

"Logan? Do we need to take you to medbay?" Roman's already rushing out from behind his station. "There's a pack in the corner, I can—"

"Oh, for—relax, all of you, I'm fine."

"Uh-huh, yeah, fine, that's what I'd describe elbows that bend all schlorpy as, yeah," Virgil says, "what the—does that not hurt?"

"What? No, it doesn't hurt, look, your joints—"

"My joints suck ass but at least they're fucking bending the amount they're supposed to!"

Remus isn't quite sure how human joints are capable of such a surprising and invasive act, but never let it be said he's not curious. "Your joints are capable of performing anal suction?"

"What the fuck? No! It's a turn of phrase!"

"Oh. Disappointing."

"Ignore him," Roman says, "Logan, are you sure you're—"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I'm just—oh," he mumbles, prodding at his tablet, "what's the word for this in Common?"

"There's no word for schlorpy elbows, Logan—"

"Yes, there is!" He pokes around for a few more seconds before he lets out a noise of triumph and says something that the translators don't translate.

"It's what?" Virgil just shakes his head when Logan tries again. "I don't know what that means, bud."

Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, let me try it this way. What's it called when you are in a state of heightened energy and it leads to outbursts of things like running around, or talking too loudly, or being high-strung?"

"Remus," Roman offers helpfully.

"No, Roman."

"Are you talking about being excitable?"

"No, there's a specific word for it. It also serves as a prefix for being too much of something, or an overabundance of something."

"Too much—do you mean the word hyper?"

"Yes! Yes, that's it. And then what's the name of the thing that some people hang over cribs that have little stars or animals?"

Virgil stares at Logan for another moment. "You mean a baby mobile?"

"Yes, but only the second word."

"Mobile?"

"Yes, that's it. Then put the two words together—"

"There were probably so many other ways you could've said you were hypermobile, L, I'm just gonna put that out there—"

"Well, it got you to guess it, didn't it?"

"It's too fucking early for this shit."

"Again, it is afternoon—"

"Shut up."

Roman looks back and forth between the two humans, still twitching as though he's going to be asked to sprint for the medbay at a moment's notice. "So…is Logan…are you alright?"

"Yes, for the fourth time, I'm fine. Virgil's just a little excitable, that's all."

"You try being normal when joints are doing unexpected things," Virgil mumbles, more to his caf than anything else, but he reaches behind himself to pat Roman's carapace. "He's fine, his body just does that."

"But you said it bends the wrong way, how is that fine?"

"There is a thing known as hypermobility," Logan says, "it…oh, dear, it basically means that certain joints will bend…more."

"He's not hurt, that's pretty much all I know."

Roman looks like he's about to protest but Remus just clicks at him. They exchange another look as the humans settle back to work.

Humans are weird, just gotta roll with it.

These hadron logs, on the other hand—

"I'm gonna punt these flimflobbers into the next star we see."

"Can I help? They fucked up the carbon dating program as well."

"How do you fuck that up?"

"Ask them, not me!"

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #logan sanders #virgil sanders #humans are weird #humans are space orcs

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 7 months

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THEY WERE NOT JOKING

THEY WERE NOT FUCKING JOKING

THEY WERE NOT FUCKING JOKING EVEN THE SLIGHTEST BIT OH MY FUCKING GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

#burrow’s end #dimension 20 #don’t be like me don’t try and eat while you watch this episode #I mean hella props to the art department this shit does slap but holy shit #dragonbabbles

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 5 months

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new gender envy: Ethan winters from resident evil franchise

Made of mold that regenerates if you splash some sploosh? No face? Able to reconstitute into helpful phantasm that affects the world a lil bit? Able to manifest purely out of spite and parental love? Truly not here for monologues and schemes and has ungodly amounts of Will Not Fucking Die? Sad wet cat of a man with a flare gun?

Want

#dragonbabbles #so the first rule is if its about me @ me so i can see it #i do have opinions on the matter #it’s my gender envy I can aim it wherever I want #ethan winters #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months

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Look it’s Valentine’s Day and I spent last night making my aro and ace earrings into a necklace and we armored UP for today (wearing aro and ace pride colors and eye makeup and a dragon brooch) I’m not HAVING IT

#aroace #aromantic #i need to get my hands on some aroace pride flag specific shit #love those colors too #dragonbabbles #i do have opinions on the matter

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 months

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"Cut!"

Hi! I was remembering how some of your fics have Roman practicing conversations with the other sides in the Imagination over and over. Now, I tend to be one of those people that is almost always in my head (been mildly dissociating near constantly for almost a year now which uh- probably should get that checked out actually) and a lot of the time when I do stuff I get deja vu even if I've never done something like that before. And it's kinda gotten to the point where I'm not entirely sure if something has actually happened or not sometimes. So I was thinking maybe Roman references a conversation what he'd had with the Imagination!Sides in passing on accident, and everyone is kinda like "Princey wtf are you talking about??" And Roman panics and hides, and the next time he sees the sides he thinks that they don't wanna see him and this is a scene in the Imagination. So he gets really confused when the words he's learned will get the fake sides angry at him just are met with more concern and worry from the real sides. And they're trying to comfort him and he doesn't know what's going on and yells "CUT!" but obviously it doesn't work and now everyone is really worried and Roman can't tell between what's real and what's fake anymore and just. Has a mental breakdown. and then they comfort :D because I cannot leave this poor guy with an unhappy ending. – anon

hiii !!!! idk if you’re taking requests, and if not please ignore me, but if you are, i’m legit in love with how you write rociet with roman angst, and i would love to see more of it !!!!!! thank you !!!!!!!! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: unreality/roman having trouble remembering things and figuring out what's real, self-doubt

Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 4976

It begins so slowly that they don't think anything of it at first. Roman will say something that they don't remember, or he'll reference something that never happened, or he'll forget something that happened just a few days ago as though it happened several months back. Things...escalate, and soon they figure out the problem is far, far worse than they could have ever imagined.

Remus doesn't bother with asking or knocking, he just sinks into Roman's room right over his bed.

There's no yelp or screech, which means Roro's not in the bed, but he does get a surprised little squeak when he turns around from his desk.

"Ro-bro!"

"Re? I thought you were—you went—aren't you feeding Ollie right now?"

Remus frowns, sitting up. "No, that's not for another week. And you're supposed to come with me."

Roman furrows his brow, toying with his pen. "Really? I thought you said…"

He trails off, staring into nothing and Remus's frown deepens, sliding off the bed and walking over. Roman's pen stills, his grip a little too tight, and Remus nudges his shoulder. "Roro?"

It's like someone electrocuted him—Roman clicks and suddenly this wide grin that looks almost painful settles on his face and Remus blinks in surprise. "Sorry, don't know what came over me. Must've been lost in thought."

"Are you—hey!"

Roman leaps up and tackles Remus through the door into the Imagination, summoning his sword and swinging it before Remus has a chance to catch his breath. His morningstar clangs against the blade a moment later and he grins too—he's been waiting for Roman to start one of their fights for ages!

"Come on," Roman taunts, spreading his arms, "or are you just gonna lie there all day?"

"Oh, you asked for it, Roro."

Their sparring shakes the ground, yells and laughs ringing out as their weapons clash over and over and over. Remus throws back his head and howls and the Imagination responds, the sky growing dark and thick with clouds as thunder booms in the distance. Roman's sword grazes his arm and he shoves Remus hard in the chest, knocking him over.

"Do you yield?"

"Never!" He springs back up and they're off again, but Roman keeps dancing out of the way. "How're you so fast? Have you been practicing without me?"

Roman falters and Remus jams his elbow into the soft part of Roman's ribs, knocking him off-balance just enough to swat the sword from his hand. The first raindrops start to fall as Roman lands on his side, Remus's morningstar about to aim for his chest when a leg trips him and suddenly Roman's got his sword back—how did that happen?—and Remus's weapon is flying across the field.

"How the fuck—?"

"Do you yield?"

Remus snarls playfully and jumps up, tackling Roman and knocking his sword away again. Roman responds instantly, grappling across the slowly-muddying field until they end up on their backs, Roman's arm holding Remus in a chokehold as the rain pours down on them.

"Do you yield?"

"Yeah, yeah," Remus gasps, "I fucking yield. Leggo."

Roman chuckles and lets him roll off, landing face first in a mud puddle. His muscles ache but only in the good way and he flops onto his back, smiling breathlessly at the sky.

"That was fucking amazing, Roro," he gasps, "you have been practicing, haven't you?"

"Just trying to keep up with you," comes Roman's answer, just a little too quickly.

Remus doesn't think anything of it.

"Roman?"

"Hm?" Roman looks up from his spot in the corner of the living room, curled around his notebook. "Oh, hey, Padre. Is everything okay?"

Patton tilts his head. "Yeah, kiddo, why wouldn't it be?"

"Sorry, it's just, you know, everyone's been a little tense recently, what with…" Roman makes a vague gesture. "Everything. I shouldn't have assumed, though, I'm sorry."

Before Patton can ask if Roman's okay, Roman's settling his notebook to the side and standing up.

"What can I do for you?"

"I was going to ask if you wanted to help me with dinner?"

An expression flickers across Roman's face, too quick to name, before he's smiling and bowing. "It would be my honor, lead the way."

At least he's alright enough for that. Patton goes over to the kitchen, Roman behind him, and reaches for the large pot at the back of the stove. "I was thinking we could try that new pasta dish that Virgil's been asking about? The one Thomas saw on that YouTube video?"

"The one with all the spices and garlic and stuff?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"I don't remember if we have all the ingredients we need, but I'm definitely down to try." Roman opens a cabinet and starts taking bottles down from the shelf. "We can also definitely tweak the recipe to make sure that we can do the important parts, we just have to be careful that—"

"Uh, Roman?"

Roman pauses, turning to look over his shoulder, still holding a jar. "Yeah?"

"I, uh, I did this last week, I know what spices we have. I figured this out, you don't have to tell me how to do it."

Again, that expression flickers over his face and he quickly sets down the jar and takes a big step away from the counter. "Right, right, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I just wanted to—no, I'm not gonna make an excuse. I'm sorry, Patton, I'll listen."

"It's fine, kiddo, I know you didn't mean it." Patton holds out the pot. "Can you fill this with water?"

"Of course!"

They start prepping, Patton providing little instructions and Roman carrying them out. He chops the shallots, the green onions, and sets the sausage to the side to be cooked first. By the time they're ready to start the actual cooking, Patton's got the water boiling for the rice noodles when Roman looks over his shoulder.

"Um, what are you doing?"

"Cooking the noodles, that's it."

"But they're—sorry, aren't they supposed to be cooked later?"

"We need them ready to add to the rest of the stuff near the end, kiddo, so they have to be ready."

"But they only take a few minutes." When Patton frowns, just thinking Roman's words over, Roman hastily continues. "Sorry, I'm sure you know that already. Here, I'll, uh, would it be helpful if I got a bowl out to put them in once they're done?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

He catches that expression on Roman's face again, and again it vanishes too quickly for him to ask about, but the rest of the cooking goes off without a hitch. They get a lot of compliments on how good everything tastes and Patton makes sure Roman gets as much of the praise as he does.

"I just listened to you," Roman demurs, "it's really all you."

"It seems not only have you cooked a spectacular dish," Logan observes, "but you've also taught Roman some humility."

Virgil snorts. "'Bout time."

Roman smiles as the rest of them laugh. Patton takes another bite. "This is even better than last time."

"Last time," Roman says quietly, "sorry, can you—when was last time?"

"Sheesh, Princey, how bad is your memory getting? It was just last week?"

"Last week, right."

Patton opens his mouth to ask why Roman still sounds unsure about it, but then Remus throws one of the prawn shells at Janus and he doesn't think about it anymore.

"Easy, now," Roman murmurs, still stroking his hand up and down Virgil's spine, "that's it…you're doing really well, shadow-ling."

Virgil closes his eyes, resting against Roman's solid chest as the last of the panic attack bleeds from his veins. His breathing has yet to even out, but he can start to smell some of Princey's shampoo again, so he takes it as a win. He'll deny it later, but he turns his head to nuzzle into the crook of Roman's neck. Roman doesn't say a single thing, just shifting his grip to hold Virgil more securely in his lap.

"Hey," he says gently when Virgil headbutts his chin, "you here with me, bud?"

"Mmpf."

Roman's chuckle thrums warmly through his head. "I'll take that as a 'sort of.'"

Half of Virgil expects Roman to gently prod him into taking care of himself the rest of the way: getting him water, making him try and eat a little, getting him out of the gross and sweaty clothes into clean ones, even trying to talk him into taking a shower. And he'd do it, putting up his cursory protests, but that would mean that Roman's getting ready to leave and right now, in the last of the panic, he really wants Princey to stay.

He'd deny it if Roman ever asked him, of course, and he'd throttle Janus before he could chirp how much of a lie that was.

But Roman doesn't do that. Instead, he wraps his arms even more gently around Virgil and tucks him half over his shoulder, almost straddling his lap as one of his hands begins to card through his hair. Pressed chest to chest, he has to stifle another hitching gasp as Princey starts humming. It's a low and gentle tune, almost melancholy, and he swears it's some kind of magic as it reaches into the exhausted heap of emotions still swirling in his gut and starts coaxing it out of him.

Yeah, that means he goes back to crying into Princey's shoulder, but it's a softer cry that feels like he might actually feel better when it's over and he has no idea how Roman knows exactly what to do.

He's not gonna question it though.

There's no way the song Princey's humming is as long as he holds him for, so he must be doing it over and over, which just makes Virgil cry more because Roman is choosing to stay with him right now, he's choosing to let Virgil be a puddle of mess on his lap, and he's still running his fingers lightly over Virgil's back and yes, actually, Virgil would like to stay here forever.

When the tears eventually run out and Virgil's just floating there, in a really pleasant haze, he realizes that Roman isn't going to move until Virgil decides he wants to move. Not when he's just shifting so it's easier for Virgil to breathe, and he's still scratching gently along the space between his shoulder blades.

"…Princey?"

"Hm?"

"How'd…how'd you know what to do?"

Roman turns and noses Virgil's hair. "You told me, remember?"

Virgil's tired brain tries to figure out when he gave Roman the step-by-step on how to give him the best, most indulgent comfort ever and draws a blank. "No. I—when'd I do that?"

Roman's hand stutters for a moment, just a moment, but a moment nonetheless. "Maybe I just figured out why it took me so long to realize what you needed, then."

Talking is hard, and so Virgil doesn't do it, but he does think about it.

"It's not that bizarre of an opinion, to be sure, but the way it's phrased speaks more of an incomplete understanding of the topic than they intended."

"No, I see your point. I mean, I know I'm definitely biased and reading sentences like that tends to make me defensive, but I know that, and I'm trying to work on it." Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. "I think it's just hard because when you make such sweeping generalizations that imply that you really don't know what it is you're talking about, it's hard for me to not be super defensive and stuff, does that make sense?"

"It's another area for you to work on—"

"Yeah, I know."

"—but I see your point. If someone doesn't come to the table in good faith, it's difficult to have good faith yourself." Logan sits back, still pondering the opinion piece in front of them. "Though it is clear they lack the same kind of expertise and knowledge that you do."

"I think that's also why it's hard for me—I can list, like, four different examples offhand that would disprove their point, and at least half a dozen more that show the contradictions they've made in the last paragraph alone—like, I'm not alone here, that part contradicts their point about pacing, doesn't it?"

"Not entirely, but yes, it lends an ambiguity to their earlier statement."

"Right." Roman rubs his forehead and flips through his notebook, brow furrowed. "I swear I remember when we talked about academic continuity, I just need to find that page."

Logan frowns. "When we what?"

Roman looks up, brow furrowed. "When we talked about…you know, the importance of making sure your argument—or your point, sorry—carries through your entire piece?"

"I don't recall that conversation."

"You, um—" Roman starts flipping through his notebook, his movements taking on an increasingly frenetic pace— "you brought one of my papers to me that we talked about and you started going through the um, the problems with the layout and we started talking about the importance of—I swear it's in here, I just need to find it."

Logan sits forward, his brow increasingly furrowing as Roman almost tears a page trying to turn it. "Roman, it's—"

"Here." Roman runs his finger down the page, still not meeting Logan's gaze, "we talked about how it's important to have a coherent theme that the reader can follow and how to acknowledge conflicting viewpoints without placing them in a hierarchy."

Logan blinks. That does sound like a conversation that he and Roman would have—one that he believes he'd rather enjoy—but he has no recollection of it. Roman's expression flickers when he says as much, something almost like panic rising in his gaze before it's quickly stifled.

"Well," he says, forcing a smile onto his face, "perhaps I was just reading it back over and imagined what you'd say."

"I quite like this imaginary version of me, then," Logan jokes, "he makes excellent points."

Roman's reaction is not quite a flinch, but his smile squeezes for a moment too long before he nods.

"Would you mind having it again," Logan asks, "for the sake of—?"

"Oh, I couldn't do it justice," Roman says a little too quickly, "but you, um, you can read it? If you want?"

Logan blinks again, surprise coloring his voice. "You'd let me read your notes?"

"…if…if you want to?"

Waiting for Roman to retract that invitation at any moment—he has never seen Roman fiercer than when something touches his notebooks—Logan reaches out and carefully starts to read. The conversation's transcript—or summary—is fascinating. He finds himself almost mourning the fact that this wasn't a conversation he'd actually had. Although some of the comments that he can tell are his are a touch more callous than he'd prefer, he finds himself engrossed in their dialogue until he gets to the latter half.

Roman's handwriting grows sloppy, as it is wont to do when he gets caught up, but there are occasional splotches of discoloration where it looks like something wet.

"Oh, I was drinking something," Roman says offhandedly when Logan asks, "must've spillled."

"I'm surprised you'd drink around your notebooks, you take such care of them."

"Well, you know me."

Before Logan can point out that he does, that's why he's confused, Roman's saying that he's sorry, but he's a little worn out, would Logan mind terribly if they cut this short a bit? Logan shakes his head and watches Roman pick up his notebook, walking out of his room. That moment of panic lingers in his mind and he frowns, wondering why Roman had panicked.

He thinks about that and the drops of liquid that had obscured a line in Roman's handwriting that just said cut.

Janus hears Roman lie over and over again and he's about to break something.

Every time, he has to hold back his visible surprise that one, Roman is lying so readily, and two, that he's getting away with it. The little prince is a better actor than Janus gave him credit for—than any of them gave him credit for, as it's turning out—and the more times it happens, the more Janus thinks that something right under their noses is going terribly, horribly wrong.

The lies aren't big enough for them to be problems on their own, but they stack on top of each other like pebbles until it feels as though Janus blinks one day and there's a wall between Roman and the rest of them that seems insurmountable. And each time another adds to the mass, he thinks about calling it out, but they're never for something so serious as to warrant a full interrogation and the last thing he wants to do is let Roman know he's suspicious of him.

…it sounds much worse than it is.

It's just that if Roman is this good about keeping everyone off his tail right now, with almost no baseline suspicion or cause for concern, he has no desire to see what would happen if Roman was intent on keeping it a secret. And if he is going to succeed in uncovering why Roman feels so fundamentally scared, something Virgil only admitted after Janus had poked and prodded him for far too long, then he needs all of the rest of them on his side too.

His opportunity comes unexpectedly.

They're having a meeting—not a meeting meeting, they're just talking about what they want to do this weekend—and Roman brings up a conversation they'd had about making sure movie nights were comfortable for everyone. Talking about possible triggers beforehand, making sure everyone had equal access to whatever snacks they wanted, even down to making sure everyone behaved considerately while the movie was playing to ensure everyone was having a good time.

A perfectly reasonable thing to bring up, except that conversation never happened.

"What?" Roman looks around. "Are—it did, I swear. We were—we were getting ready to watch the second Venom movie and Remus brought up the body horror and gore that happens and we started talking about—"

He looks around at them all again.

"Do…do none of you remember this?"

"No, kiddo."

"Not really."

"It would be a good conversation to have, but I don't remember this instance of it."

Remus and Janus just shake their heads, Janus keeping his eyes on Roman as he fiddles with his hands.

Don't lie, Roman, please.

"Sorry," Roman says, flashing a bright smile, "must be getting lost in my Imagination again."

Janus narrows his eyes—not technically a lie, but Roman's leaving something out. For a moment, it seems like the conversation will keep flowing and he'll have to wait for a better time to ask Roman what's wrong, but then Patton's speaking up.

"Kiddo?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

Roman laughs. "Yeah, of course, Padre, why wouldn't I be?"

Lie. Janus hisses softly and Roman's head jerks around.

"What's the matter," Logan asks, and Roman jerks again at the gentle tone, "will you talk to us, Roman?"

"You've been acting a little strange for a while now," Patton agrees, taking a step closer, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah, like I said," Roman tries, a smile still sort of on his face, "everything's fine, why are you—"

Janus hisses again as Virgil sits up. "Princey, you don't have to be scared, you can—"

"I'm not scared!"

The stronger lie sears across Janus's tongue as Roman winces at the force of his own shout. He pinches the bridge of his nose. No one dares move for several long seconds. Just when Logan looks like he's about to say something, Roman takes a deep breath and lowers his head.

"I'm sorry," he says in a voice that sounds so mournful it makes Janus's chest ache, "I didn't mean to shout or snap at you. You didn't deserve it, I'm sorry. I think I—I've just been spending too much time in the Imagination again."

As soon as he finishes talking, he braces. Like he's expecting to get hit. He hears Remus make a worried noise next to him, starting to reach out.

"Little one," Logan says gently, "we're not angry with you, there's no need for all of that."

Roman's eyes snap open and at the look of pure confusion on his face, a few more of them let out little sounds. Virgil stands up and Roman turns too quickly to face him.

"Hey, Princey," Virgil soothes, his hands up, "I'm not moving, okay? I'm just worried. You're—I can feel you freaking out a little that's all."

"Sweetheart," Patton calls next and Janus winces at how much Roman's neck keeps snapping back and forth, "sweetheart, it's okay, you're safe, it's gonna be okay."

"Back off a bit, we're crowding him."

All of them—except for Remus—take a step back. Remus edges closer and closer to Roman until he can rest a hand on Roman's shoulder. Roman just trembles and Remus cups the side of his face.

"Hey, Roro. Look at me. Just at me, okay?"

"I don't—this wasn't—"

"Breathe," Remus bids softly, and Roman draws a few gasping breaths.

"This wasn't supposed to happen."

"What wasn't?"

"This—I—I don't—"

Remus opens his mouth to say something else when it morphs into a wordless sound of surprise as Roman sinks out abruptly, leaving him scrabbling at the empty air as the rest of them rush forward.

"What happened?"

"Where'd he go?"

"Did we do something to upset him?"

"What's going on?"

Janus doesn't say anything, still staring at the spot where Roman had been. He thinks about all of the lies he's heard, all of the things Roman hasn't said, and how out of all of the things Roman lied about, he'd never lied about being lost in the Imagination.

A conclusion starts to take shape.

+1.

"No wonder you've been so off, your head hasn't been attached to you since you lost it."

"It's a bad idea to spend so much time in the Imagination, Roman, you know that."

"That sounds really irresponsible, Roman. You should know better."

"Quit hogging the Imagination, I need to use it too."

"Oh, of course you were, Roman, did you honestly think we'd expected anything different?"

"You need to be better disciplined, if you can't get the work done you need to before deciding to go off and play."

"Sheesh, Princey, are you really that selfish?"

"If it's getting so bad that you're having delusions, then you need to stop, kiddo."

"Oh, no, Roman's having trouble understanding what's real again."

"The fuck is wrong with you?"

"You're being dramatic, pull yourself together."

"Your crocodile tears aren't convincing anyone, you know."

"Stop crying, you're not a baby."

"Do you think that if you throw a big or pathetic enough tantrum, it'll get us to spoil you? Grow up."

"Stupid."

"Ridiculous."

"Pathetic."

"Annoying."

"Worthless."

"You can't do anything right."

"You're being ridiculous."

"We should never have relied on you."

"I knew you couldn't handle it."

"We're better off without you."

Roman curls up around his pillow, wedging himself deeper into the corner. He jams his face between it and the wall. He tries to keep his hands out of sight. He counts in his head as he breathes, trying to keep it as even as possible. Eventually it will be over. He just has to last until then. Then he can go to his room and cuddle his plushie dragon and be upset there, out of the way, and hurt all by himself. It's safer that way.

He keeps his breathing nice and steady, letting the hurt course through him. The voices keep going, taunting, mocking, yelling, scolding, until they start to just say his name over and over. Roman, Roman, Roman, Roman—

"Roman!"

Something like a frenzied scream comes from behind him and he turns his face deeper into the wall.

"What the fuck are those things?"

"Shit, how long have those been here?"

"Are they—are they supposed to be us?"

"Yeah, fucked up and cruel versions of us, not on my fucking watch!"

Several wet splats come from behind him and then there are hands on his shoulder, running through his hair, and someone that feels like Remus is murmuring in his ear.

"Hey, Roro, it's over. I destroyed them, they're gone, it's the real us. We're here, we're really here, just—just come out of there, okay?"

Oh. It's this one.

He always finds this one the cruelest, where they lure him in with promises of comfort and safety only to turn on him when he reveals what he's actually upset about. No, thank you, he's hurting just fine on his own.

"Roro, please, come out of there, it's okay, it's all gonna be okay."

"Let me try," he hears Logan's voice say, and then the Remus is moving away and there's another hand on his shoulder, "dear, it's alright. You're going to give yourself neck pain if you stay like that, come here…"

Despite his chest howling at him not to, Roman lets Logan coax him out from the corner. Each word of gentle praise just makes it worse—it's going to hurt so much when they start being mean again.

"Princey—" and there's Virgil— "hey, stay with us, okay? Just focus on us, Pat, do you want to—"

"I got it."

Despite himself, a wounded noise leaves Roman's throat as a blanket gets draped over his shoulders. Careful touches smooth it down, more hands helping to secure it in place, and he just curls up so small under it so he doesn't get used to the warmth.

Just get it over with. Just get it over with. Just get it over with.

"Sweetie," he hears, and flinches at the touch of a smooth hand and a scaled hand on his face.

Wait, what?

Janus never takes his gloves off. Not here. Not like this. They can't—they can't be this cruel to him, not today, not when everything already hurts so much.

"Cut," he manages, "cut."

But the hands don't leave and he looks up to see Janus, actual real Janus looking at him and then he smiles softly and calls him sweetie again, and then Logan is appearing over his shoulder and Patton's adjusting the blanket and Virgil and Remus are keeping watch at the corners of the room and—and—and—

"Come here, sweetie," Janus murmurs and he's falling into his chest and there's a kiss being pressed to his temple and it's warm and soft and—

"Shh, Princey," Virgil says as a thread of panic starts to wind its way around his chest, "it's okay, you're okay," and—

"Come this way a little," Logan coaxes as something soft appears under him, "come lie down, you're alright," and—

"There you are," Patton's voice says as something starts to cuddle him, gently yet firmly and it's so surreal and—

"Oh, Roro," Remus mumbles as his brother's arms wrap firmly around him, "this is real, I promise, I promise we're here with you, everything's gonna be okay, okay? We're here, we're real, you're real, everything's gonna be okay now," and—

—and then Roman doesn't think anymore.

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman sanders angst #roman angst #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deciet sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 5 months

Text

Come Now, Little Duke | The Good Stuff

Okay, so if you can't tell I've been going through some of your stories again and catching up on updates and asdfjlk you're such an amazing writer! The personality you give the characters is so good it makes me want to scream and your prose? *chef's kiss* Is it alright if I hit you with another prompt? You've written a lot of Janus comforting Roman (which I love), but I just got caught up in Come Now, Little Prince (I think it just might be my favourite of your stories) and Janus comforting Remus filled my heart in ways I can't describe. Could we get more of our favourite danger noodle comforting, protecting, and being possessive of the trash rat? – twoalpacas

Read on Ao3

Warnings: gunshot, blood loss, passing out from injury, mentions of being on heavy painkillers/drugs

Pairings: dukeceit

Word Count: 1420 (it's what he would've wanted.)

Remus had never seen Janus fight before. That's why he's there—to get hurt for him, to do the dirty work, to pull the necessary levers and little administrative violences. But Janus was a breathtaking fighter. If Remus hadn't already been clocked rather hard on the head, dazed and on the ground, ready to pass out, he might have swooned at the sight.

The attackers dropped.

Janus was at his side in an instant, expression intent.

"You don't like getting your hands dirty," he slurred.

"I don't like losing my best operative either. Don't worry, I'll get you to clean the blood off my hands on your knees when you're not dying," Janus said, still a little too concerned to be his normal unflappable self, "restore the order of the universe."

Remus snorted and regretted it. Wounded was not good for laughing.

"Come on, then," Janus said, grunting as he slid an arm under Remus's back, "these new clothes are coming out of your budget if you can't get them clean."

An order was an order. He gritted his teeth and hauled himself up, an injured hand pressing against the gunshot wound. An involuntary hiss through his teeth as pain ravaged his limbs followed by a moment of surprise as Janus's body pressed warm and solid against his side.

"Stay awake until we get to the car," he muttered as they slowly made their way through the carnage, "then you can pass out."

Get to the car. Get to the car. Get to the car.

He was still conscious by the time they finally made it to the car, but Janus was practically dragging him to the door. Air passed weakly through his lips as he fumbled woozily for the door handle.

Janus's voice mumbled something but it sounded like it was coming through syrup. Pain fluttered like static across his field of vision and his head slipped down.

He opened his eyes.

A ceiling stared back at him. He blinked. Outside didn't have ceilings. He must be inside. But cars didn't have ceilings that looked like this. So they must be inside inside somewhere. Did he make it to the car? He hoped he made it to the car. Janus said to make it to the car.

"Good. You're awake."

Remus turned his head to see Janus pulling a chair up to the bed. He…how long had he been like this?

"You've been out for about an hour," Janus said, "welcome back."

Remus swallowed. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. "Why…why'm I so…sthlow?"

"A combination of your injuries and the sedatives, plus the gauze in your mouth." Gloved hands reached up to pry it out, leaving his mouth slightly less cottony, but only slightly. He blinked slowly. Janus tutted and reached back up, brushing a bit of hair from his face and whistling lowly. "They got you good, huh? I've never seen so much blood all over your pretty face."

If Remus hadn't lost so much blood, he probably would've blushed.

"Wha—" he tried to swallow some of the cotton— "wha'd Doc say?"

"Let's just stick to the good news for now," Janus said darkly, "which is that you're not dying anymore."

Oh. That was good news. As Janus stood and turned away, he remembered something. He gritted his teeth and started to get up.

"And what," Janus said sharply, "do you think you're doing?"

Remus gestured weakly. "Your hands."

"And what about my hands?"

"'M supposed to clean them."

Confusion furrowed Janus's brow until he realized what Remus was talking about and he rolled his eyes. "Get back in the bed," he said, exasperated, "you're not out of the woods just yet."

Oh. A bed. Is that was he was laying on> But his bed didn't look like that. Or feel like that. His ceiling didn't look like that either. But orders were orders.

Janus had disappeared by the time he lay back down. He blinked, still slightly woozy. Blood loss, probably. Or the pain. But he couldn't feel much pain right now. That was bad, right? When you couldn't feel that it hurt?

"Don't shift around too much," Janus said lowly, sitting next to him again, "just because we've got you on the good stuff doesn't mean you won't do any more damage."

He stilled, lying there motionless, until Janus sighed and shifted.

"I've never seen you this quiet before," he said, "outside of a stakeout or when you're asleep."

Remus didn't say anything.

"Here." Janus turned his head gently so it lay facing him. "There's still blood on you."

Remus just blinked as Janus started to dab at his forehead with a tissue. His brow was drawn in concentration, his gaze on his work. He caught Remus looking and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

Remus blinked. Several expressions flickered across Janus's face and he dropped the tissue.

"What is it?" he barked. "Tell me what hurts, right now. Did they wear off already?"

"'M sorry."

"Don't apologize, just tell me what hurts. Did you pull your stitches out?"

"'M sorry, Boss."

Janus paused, gaze darting all over Remus's face, before he reached out and cupped his cheeks in his hands. "Tell me what you're sorry for," he instructed softly, "and then tell me why you're crying."

Crying? Remus was crying? Oh. That was bad. This was wrong. Janus wasn't kind to him. Janus wasn't gentle with him. He was only kind and gentle when he was lying or when he wanted something. Maybe that was why he was being kind and gentle right now, because Remus did so bad.

"I did bad," he mumbled, voice catching and hiccupping a few times, "I—I did bad."

"What did you do," Janus asked, hands still warm on his face, "what was bad?"

"Y' said 'good stuff,'" Remus managed, "good stuff's only for…for when it's bad and—and if it's bad then I did bad. I did bad."

Janus's eyes widened. That was bad too, right? Yes. If he did bad then that meant it wasn't good and if it wasn't good then Janus would be mad and if Janus was mad then that was bad.

"Oh, you poor thing," he heard distantly before the warm hands were on his torso, "come on, now, up you sit. Sit up, just like that, that's it."

He couldn't breathe properly. Why couldn't he breathe properly? Breathing hurt. Breathing wasn't supposed to hurt. If he did so bad that breathing hurt then Janus would be really mad.

"Easy, now." Something warm settled on his abdomen. "Slow in down. Nice and easy, come on, relax."

But Janus was mad—

"I'm not mad, sweetie," the gentle voice said, "calm down, now."

The gentle voice began to lull him, breathing becoming less and less like dragging himself over razor wire and more like just inhaling and exhaling. The warmth settled on his face again.

"I expect my agents to fear me," he heard distantly, "but not like this. I don't like seeing you like this. If you're ever like this again, you come and you find me, do you understand? I'll make it better."

Remus blinked.

"…you can't understand a word I'm saying, can you?" The warmth passed over his face. "You poor thing. Oh, you poor, sweet thing…"

Remus let out a whimper as he was moved.

"Shh, shh, it's alright now. No more thinking for you right now. You go to sleep while the drugs wear off, okay?"

S-sleep? He could sleep?

"Yes, you can sleep. It's okay, just fall asleep whenever you need to. I have you." Something soft and slightly damp pressed against his forehead. "I'll look after you for now."

The last thing he thought he felt was something warm and wet cleaning the blood from his hands.

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #fic

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