#i see a lot of you wondering why there is no portrait of logan but one of ewan

[theoldkyokodied]

One wedding and three funerals

Background paintings under the cut

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Melted Mask

awitchbravestheverge prompt: I don't know if you're still taking prompts but you are a master of hurt/comfort and would sell you my soul for some of that for Janus. Maybe where he's feeling insecure or like he's worn out his welcome post acceptance, or maybe a little touch starved, or both. Preferably with Virgil or Patton as the comforter, but if not thats ok. I just have a never-ending need for fic where people are soft and gentle with the snake boy, and I love everything you write with my whole heart

Thanks for the request, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: DLAMPR, focus on anxceit and moceit, can be platonic or romantic you decide I don’t mind

Warnings: uhhh sympathetic deceit and remus

Word Count: 4804

 “How many masks of your own face are you currently wearing?”

 “At least four.”

Between the gloves, the cape, and the hat, there’s not an awful lot of Janus that is seen most of the time. Not that he particularly minds. There is a certain benefit that layers upon layers of clothing provides. One, they’re perfect for concealing his cane—the others always look so surprised when he summons it from nowhere. Two, he is Dark Side, thanks to Roman’s fantastic naming system. There is an aesthetic standard that must be met. What was he going to do, show up in some ratted old hoodie?

 Three, well—there is an awful lot to look at. If the others are focused on the clasps at his throat, the shock of the yellow gloves, the logo hidden under the black fabric, they’re not looking at him.

 If they were, they’d see his scales.

 He is the only side with a visible animal trait, after all. The scales cover the left side of his face, down beneath his collar. He doesn’t mind the stares—come on, it’s so easy to catch them off guard, how could he?—but sometimes he does wonder if they’ll ever get used to it.

  To him.

 The scales are a reminder. That he’s different. That he’s not like them. He’s not like the others, he doesn’t look like Thomas, at least not to the extent that they do. Thomas doesn’t have golden scales along the side of his face. Thomas doesn’t have a mouth that curves up along his cheek. Thomas doesn’t have a slit-eye pupil. No, no, Thomas is normal.

 How dreadful.

 Then, of course, there are the lies.

 ‘Deceit.’ Such a funny word. And so…polarizing.

 ‘Deceitful,’ ‘dishonest,’ ‘dastardly’—lot of ‘d’s, here, hmm?—all of the words that just mean he’s a liar. And lying must be bad, right? So it follows logically then, because we simply adore logic in this house, that he must be bad.

 He’s not to be trusted, he’s a liar. He’s not honest, he’s a liar. They have to double and triple-check everything he says because he’s a liar.

 They always conveniently seem to forget that you can always trust a dishonest person to be dishonest. It’s the truthful ones you have to watch out for.

 Janus knows he’s a liar. Frankly, he’s quite proud of it. He’s gotten very good at it too; twisting the words together just right in order to tug slightly at a heartstring there, block off just a little rationality there, get the job done. The others always get caught up in his words, too busy focusing on the minutia of it, the details, leaving him free to step around them and speak to Thomas.

 They see the gloves, they see the scales, they see the lies.

 They see the masks.

 Oh, sometimes he’ll put on a little bit more of a show if he needs to make a point, if the normal masks aren’t quite enough to get Thomas to listen. He’ll tie a hoodie around his shoulders, push a pair of glasses up his nose, knot a tie around his neck. Problem is…those ones are a little easier to see through. No matter how hard he tries, all of his disguises end up being a self-portrait.

 Which is how he ended up here.

 “You know the rules,” Patton says, his hands on his hips, “no impersonating others outside of filming!”

 Janus rolls his eyes and idly flicks a speck of dirt off one of his gloves. “Oh, please. You don’t want me to do it during filming either.”

 “No, I don’t, but we made a compromise, kiddo, now we both have to stick to it.”

 Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure the others will be relieved to hear so.”

 “What have we said about impersonations?”

 He sighs. “The others may be idiots—“

 “Oi!”

 “—but idiots are also deserving of respect,” Janus finishes, glancing at Virgil draped over the back of the couch. “And I would never dream of being anything less than perfectly respectful.”

 Virgil snorts. “What do you even get out of it anyway?” He sits up a little straighter. “Wait, you haven’t been tricking Roman into telling you how to impersonate us better, have you?”

 “Now why would I do that?”

 “Janus!”

 “What? Like you don’t make a habit of going to the others for advice.”

 “There’s a difference between openly asking for it and tricking them into giving it to you.”

 Janus levels a stare at him. “I suppose there is, isn’t there?”

 “Hey!” Patton steps between them. “That’s enough.”

 “Oh, well—“ Janus makes a show of resettling his cape—“if you say so.”

 Patton sighs. “Janus, we are trying, okay? You heard Thomas, you’re…well, you’re more welcome now.”

 “And you’re doing a marvelous job of that.”

 Patton doesn’t quite deflate, but it’s close. “Well, maybe we could all try a little harder.” He gives Janus a pointed look.

 “Yes, I’m sure my efforts will be richly rewarded.”

 “Well, you could start by showing up as yourself more often.”

 “Myself?” Janus gasps theatrically, putting a gloved hand to his scales. “Who’s that?”

 “Dude,” Virgil sniggers—Virgil did always appreciate his sense of humor—“how many masks of your own face are you currently wearing”

 “At least four.”

 Patton lets him go with another verbal slap on the wrist and Virgil flips him off. Janus sinks out, striding down the hallway near his room. It’s quieter here. The walls hum a little less. He can think.

 He hadn’t gone to Roman to gets tips on his acting. He’d gone because Roman doesn’t want to talk to Janus.

 Janus, the liar. Janus, the manipulator. Janus, the Dark Side.

 Janus shuts the door of his room and instinctively slumps, the cape hanging off his shoulders. He knows Patton means well, and Virgil’s…Virgil, but sometimes it stings a little more than it should. Not that the others will ever see it.

 He’ll never forget the look on Thomas’s face when Logan said he was the side that acts with the one priority of self-preservation. Of how it instantly demonized the idea of protecting yourself. Of Thomas keeping himself safe.

 He looks at his hands, sees the gloves. They still don’t fit quite right, even after all these years. He can’t get the seams to run down the sides of the fingers, not curve around to the front or the back. It really shouldn’t be this difficult. Especially considering how much use he’s gotten out of them.

 Lying kept Thomas alive. It kept him safe. He helped keep Thomas safe. When Virgil couldn’t breathe, when Logan faltered, when Patton froze, Janus would quietly make his way over to Roman and whisper a suggestion. Just a suggestion. To lie. To keep Thomas safe. To get them out of here. And it saved them. So many times.

 Janus walks over to the mirror. It’s a fairly modest thing; about the size of a small sink, oval, large enough so he can see himself completely if he takes a few steps back. He ignores his own face and reaches for the golden latch on the side. He turns it.

 The cabinet swings open to reveal a dark velvet interior with several small podiums. Each has a thin mask laid atop it. They gleam in the low light of the room. Janus reaches out and carefully makes sure each is perfectly centered. As he does so, his gloves linger on the fine print beneath the podiums.

 Everyone has masks. Versions of themselves to present to the world when they need to. A mask that keeps you safe, a mask that keeps you alive, a mask that has the courage to speak when you don’t. The mask they wear around their homophobic relatives, the mask they wear when they need to make a phone call, the mask they wear when they need to pretend they’re something they’re not.

 Janus is very, very good at making masks.

 He never wears these. These are for Thomas. When Thomas needs help, Janus slips one of these out of the cabinet and sets it on the desk in front of the mirror. He looks at it, then at the mirror, and works. These masks are what helps Thomas.

 He shuts the cabinet with a decisive click, suddenly confronted with his own face.

Janus is so good at making masks that he doesn’t even need a mask to wear one.

 A mask because you’re the bad guy. A mask because you can never be trusted. A mask because when you try to be vulnerable they won’t listen. A mask because they don’t want you, they want the character that you embody to survive.

 He pities the others sometimes. They don’t have these masks and they hurt. They can’t distance themselves, pull away just a little more, embody a role so that when it’s over, when they’re safe again, they can take it off and breathe. But they don’t. So they just get hurt. Over and over and over.

 Janus’s lips involuntarily curl up into a snarl. The hand on the mirror closes into a fist.

 They’re not supposed to get hurt. That’s not how this is supposed to work.

 He’s not supposed to hurt them.

 Part of him argues that he has to. If he keeps working the way he’s been working he can get right to Thomas, who is who needs the most protection. If he tries to do it their way they risk Thomas getting hurt and Janus won’t have that.

 Part of him whispers that this is good for them. If he can make them a little tougher, help them get thicker skin, they’ll be safer. And then it won’t matter if they hate him. They’ll be safe. That’s all he cares about.

 The rest of him—

 …well, the rest of him is currently the reason he’s having trouble looking in the mirror right now.

 The problem with wearing so many masks is that it becomes harder and harder to figure what’s the mask and what’s not. And he’s gotten so good at making them that now…now he doesn’t have to think about it.

 A mask for when Logan asks to debate about philosophy. A mask for when Remus wants him to help him and Roman make something new. A mask for when Patton wants to bake. A mask for when Virgil comes to him for help.

 A mask for all of them. A mask for none of them.

 Janus doesn’t want to wear the masks all the time. He wants them to be warm, to care, to smile when he comes into the room, or even ask where he is. He wants to laugh as Patton smears batter all over his nose accidentally. He wants to listen to Logan ramble about some new advancement in quantum gravity. He wants Virgil to come plop down next to him while everyone else is in the living room. He wants Remus to stay with him while they watch the others get into ridiculous fights over board games. He wants Roman to not be afraid to come talk to him.

 He wants.

 Janus is selfish.

 But he isn’t stupid.

 He knows they don’t want him. He knows they don’t want him, even without the masks. Deep down, he knows they don’t need him either.

 But Thomas does.

 So here Janus will stay, in the dark, in the cold, wearing too many masks of his own face to keep count.

—————————————————————

The Mindscape is cold. It never quite feels solid. Drafts blow in and out of the walls, through the little gaps in the floor, from places that Janus can’t find, no matter how many times he looks for them. He bundles himself up in his cloak and his hat and does his best to hold still, sink in as much warmth as he can. He sneaks up behind the others, pressing himself up near them, purring in their ears, just to snatch their body heat. They always shove him away with flustered protests and blushy little faces. They’re so adorable.

 Plus, he knows that’s all he’s ever really going to get from them.

 But he’s cold, goddamnit. Why do they keep the air conditioning so high in this house? Snakes are cold-blooded. They get slow. Lethargic. Hypothermic, if it gets very bad.

 Janus can’t afford to be slow.

 So he wears his gloves, his cape, his hat. He stands opposite the window so he can get the most sunlight. He finds the patches of warmth where none of the others will find him and he can curl up for the warmth he needs...

 …and fine, maybe it’s a little more than just being cold.

 The others are…touchy. Patton throws his arm around just about everyone. Bumps his hip against theirs. Pats their shoulders, squeezes their hands, kisses their cheeks. Roman sweeps people into his arms, pulls them in for hugs, keeps an arm around their waists for as long as he’s allowed. Remus can and will just tackle whoever he wants. Logan holds himself a little further away, but even he’ll lay a comforting hand on someone’s arm. Janus will admit he was shocked when Virgil started exhibiting spider characteristics. That Side is a cat and you will not convince him otherwise. And everyone knows if a cat falls asleep on you, you’re not allowed to move until it wakes up.

 Not that Virgil has fallen asleep on him recently.

 Janus is not too proud to admit that at first, he didn’t want their touches. He had a job to do, he didn’t need to be distracted. But now…now he does.

 He sees the way they move around each other and it stings. The accidental brushes he gets from standing too close or when they aren’t thinking about it sear through layers and layers of clothing to burn into his skin. When he stays close to them—close, but not too close—his whole side begins to tingle, reaching for them, their warmth, for them. But now it’s too late. His mask is already firmly in place and they know Deceit hates being touched.

 That’s another reason for the layers. For the gloves.

 Janus knows that if they ever touch him directly, skin to skin, his mask will shatter. And that is too dangerous to risk. With his gloves, his cape, his hat, his masks, the only way that would happen is if one of them tried to touch his face.

 And that is certainly very likely indeed.

 The clothes give him a barrier. A last line of defense. No touch is better than unexpected touch.

 But that doesn’t stop him from being cold.

 He can tell it’s going to happen when he can’t quite close his fingers around the end of his staff in the middle of their conversation. His gloves don’t catch on the wood quite right and he has to fumble to grab it properly. He glances up. No one’s looking at him.

  Are they ever?

 He tucks his hands smoothly out of sight, frantically burrowing them into his cloak to see if they’ll warm up. He locks his knees. No good. His fingers start to hurt as he flexes them. They’re still not moving faster. It’s cold.

 He glances at the clock. Two minutes. He can last two minutes. Or so he thinks, until his jaw starts to clench. He clenches it harder, ignoring the protest from his neck, his shoulders, trying to make it stop. He takes a deep slow breath and tries to relax, to stop his muscles from tensing. It works, barely.

 One minute.

 His hands aren’t responding properly. He can barely move his fingers. He just needs to get out of here. If he gets out of here he can get warm. He has his electric blanket, he has everything he needs. He just needs to leave.

 Thirty seconds.

 The conversation draws to a close and Janus nods deeply, tossing one last barb over his shoulder as he sinks out, only to collapse in the hallway as soon as he does. A draft flows out right next to his shoulder, freezing fingers dancing up his arm, along the back of his neck, diving into his collar to snatch more of his warmth. He curses, heaves himself to his feet, and makes it to his room. It’s so cold.

 Something tugs in his chest. No, no—!

 “I suppose there must be a good reason for summoning me back,” Janus drawls, snapping his gloves right back into place as he appears in the living room.

 Patton and Virgil stare back at him. Patton fidgets with his hands. “W-well, we, uh, I had a question for you.”

 Damn. “Well.” Janus spreads his arms, trying to play off how slow he’s moving for dramatic effect. “I’m here. Ask away.”

 “I, uh, a few days ago you mentioned that you didn’t feel as welcome here.” Patton looks at him with such an expression of sincerity that it makes Janus’s tongue itch. “And I wanted to know what I could do to help.”

 “Aren’t you sweet?”

 Patton won’t be deterred, it seems. He stares at Janus, resolute as ever. It’s so cold in here he’s going to start slurring in a moment.

 “Janus?”

 “That is my name, yes.”

 “Are you…are you feeling alright?”

 Janus gestures to himself, movements growing slower by the second. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

 Slow. Too slow.

 Patton frowns. He gives him a look. “You don’t seem like you normally are, are you sure?”

 “I am entirely in one piece.”

 “That doesn’t answer my question.”

 “Honey, if you’re looking for a straight answer, I’m afraid you’re looking in the wrong place.”

 Virgil moves. Right, Virgil was here too. Janus is slow. Too slow. He can’t move. He can’t get away. His mask forms a bored expression on his face, quirking an eyebrow. Virgil approaches him and holds out a hand. A cold part of Janus’s chest leaps.

 The lips of the mask part. “And what exactly do you intend to do with that?”

 “This,” Virgil mutters, and cups the side of Janus’s face.

 Everything stops.

 Distantly, he feels Virgil’s hand leave his face. Hears something about being too cold. Sees a blur of blue rush away. But all he can focus on is—

  Warm. Virgil touched you. Warm. Warm. So warm. Keep the mask on. Don’t let the mask slip. Warm. If the mask slips everything will be ruined. Warm. Don’t you remember how to take the mask off? Virgil. Patton. Warm.

 “Janus? Janus!”

 Janus blinks. Virgil is still standing in front of him. There’s a little wrinkle between his brows. The mask is frozen in place, iced into a neutral expression.

 “Hey,” Virgil says quietly, “you’re freezing, bud. You gotta get warm.”

 Janus can’t speak. The mask is so cold.

 “You remember what happens when you get too cold,” Virgil continues, taking a step closer. Janus can’t move. Virgil’s frown deepens and he tilts his head. “What’s going on, Janus, you don’t normally let it get this bad.”

  Yes, Virgil, we’re aware.

 “You could’ve asked, dude,” Virgil says, taking another step closer, a little exasperation mingling with the concern, “any of us.”

 The mask smirks. Barely. “Yes, because I’m sure everyone would be so willing to cuddle me so I could steal their body heat.”

 “You don’t know that.” The mask doesn’t move. Virgil glances over his shoulder. When he speaks next, his voice is lowered to a whisper.

 “You don’t have to keep that on right now, Jan,” he says quietly, “it’s okay. It’s just me. I know you. You can…you know. Emote and stuff.”

 Janus huffs a laugh. It’s weak. 

 “You ever wear a mask so long you forget how to take it off?”

 Vigil pauses. “Huh?”

 “Ever pretended to be something for so long you forget which is real and which isn’t?” Janus’s smile turns sad. “Made yourself believe it too?”

 Virgil’s eyes close for a second. When he opens them, the concern in his gaze takes the last of the warm breath from Janus’s lungs. “Does this have anything to do with…?” He waves in Janus’s direction.

 Janus nods, slowly, so slowly. “I can’t. Because I’ve been…I’ve been trained out of it. I built my masks to hide behind. And now I can’t take them off.”

 “And we haven’t been good about helping you do that, huh.” He sounds so tired. He’s been through so much…

 “I’m…”

 The mask won’t let him apologize.

  Like they would ever accept it.

 “No, no,” Virgil says, “don’t apologize. You aren’t to blame for what you’ve been put through.”

  Oh, Virgil…

 Virgil glances over his shoulder. Then he shakes his head. “Just…look, go.”

 “What?”

 “I know this isn’t the time to talk about stuff. You’re not in any sort of shape to do that and Patton will understand. Go get warm.” He gives Janus a pointed look. “You take care of yourself first, okay?”

 He tries. He goes back to his room and buries himself in blankets, in pillows, in more layers than he can stand. The pressure is good but it’s still so cold. The weight of the electric blanket is nothing compared to the warmth of Virgil’s hand. Everything in here smells sterile, clinical, detached. It’s all so cold.

  You take care of yourself.

 The last sentence rings through his head late at night. He wants. But everyone’s probably asleep by now, and god knows they need to sleep. Surely it’ll be alright if he just goes to the living room? That’s not too far, right?

 There’s a fire going in the fireplace—since when did they have a fireplace? And there’s someone sitting on the couch. Hmm. Maybe if…if he’s quiet, if he doesn’t make too much noise, he can slip in and soak up some of the warmth. 

 Virgil turns around.

 “Hey, Janus,” he murmurs, standing, and comes over to him. “Can’t sleep?”

 Janus shakes his head. It’s warm in here, but he’s still cold. Virgil can see that, apparently.

 “Here,” he says, handing him a cup of tea that appeared out of thin air, “drink. It’ll warm you up.”

 Janus takes it cautiously. Isn’t it Virgil’s? There’s no way Virgil would’ve know Janus was coming…right?

 “This is my third one, figure I should let you catch up first.”

 He gestures to the couch, an encouraging smile on his lips.

 “Sit. C’mon”

 Janus does, sinking into the plush couch and cradling the warm mug in his hands. The couch groans as Virgil sits next to him. He can feel Virgil just out of reach, just there…

 “I like watching the fire,” comes a low voice from next to him as he sips the tea. “Helps me think. Or stop thinking.”

 He keeps talking in that low voice and the warm tea flows through Janus, sapping the cold slowly away from his body.

 Distantly, he feels someone steering him down onto the couch, and heavy arms around him.

 “Or maybe you just need a cuddle. Go to sleep, Janus.”

—————————————————————

 “ — stop twitching, Remus! You’ll make a mistake!”

 “Stop tugging his arm all over the place and then you won’t.”

 “Will you two pipe the fuck down? You’re gonna wake him up.”

 “Says the loudmouth!”

 “Roman, stop it.”

 “Stop moving his arm!”

 What is…? He’s lying on something. It’s warm, really warm. It smells like…coffee, makeup, and…cinnamon? He shifts slightly, and oh he slept on his neck wrong. A low groan escapes his throat.

 His pillow stiffens. “Shit. He’s awake.”

 “Good going, Remus.”

 “You were the one yelling!”

 “Shut the fuck up, both of you.” The chest underneath him vibrates. “Shh, snake-face, go back to sleep. You’re alright. Go back to sleep.”

 Janus shifts again, trying to look around, but he’s held down by another strong arm. A hand cards itself through his hair—where’s his hat? “Shh, be still, buddy, you’re okay. Can’t we get you back to sleep?”

 “What…’s going on?” His tongue feels heavy, swelling up in his mouth.

 “I believe the chances of getting him back to sleep will increase if you tell him what you’re doing.”

 It’s…Logan? He appears, fuzzy but definitely there, over the back of the couch. Janus tries to turn to make it easier to see him but his right arm is pinned and he can’t move—

 “Easy, J, easy, shh, shh, you’re okay, you’re safe, just keep your arm nice and still, okay?” Virgil, it’s Virgil he’s lying on, runs his hand through his hair again. “I’m pretty sure Roman would pitch a fit.”

 “Hah.” Roman snorts from somewhere close to the ground. “If this got ruined, yours would be too.”

 “If you hadn’t insisted on going last,” Remus says, “this wouldn’t’ve been an issue.”

 And then he feels it. Something is drawn sharply across his right wrist.

 “Shh, shh, Janus, breathe, breathe, you’re okay, damnit, Princey, stop! You’re making him freak out!”

 It’s gone, the contact is gone. His arm is still hanging over the edge of the couch but it’s held there by Virgil’s arm and another hand.

 “Hey there, Snakey.” Remus appears over Virgil’s shoulder. “You’re okay. We’re just making sure you’re okay.”

 Roman snorts. “There’s something wrong with how you phrased that.”

 Then suddenly Patton appears out of nowhere and doesn’t surprise him at all. Luckily, or unluckily, Janus is far too exhausted and disoriented to react more than rucking up the fabric of Virgil’s hoodie a little. Patton looks at the couch.

 “There isn’t room, Pop-star,” Virgil says, lazily stretching so his bulk takes up all of it, moving slow enough so Janus isn’t jostled too much. Then Virgil yelps and their lower bodies are lifted and he can feel the couch sag under another body.

 “What the hell, Pat.”

 “Now there’s room.” Patton reaches up and ruffles Virgil’s hair.

 There are so many people and it’s warm but why are they all here? Did he miss something? Does he need to leave?

 “Looks good,” Patton says, interrupting his train of thought, “it’s coming along well.”

 Logan clears his throat. “Would someone like to inform Janus about what exactly ‘this’ is?”

 “Oh, right, sorry, Snakey,” Remus says, crouching back down, “let’s show you.”

 Virgil turns over slowly, lifting his arm and using the leverage to shift Janus onto his chest. “Jeez, Janus, you’re light. Patton, have we been feeding him enough?”

 “I suspect there’s been a lack of communication, kiddo.”

 “Now is not the time to yell at him, Patton,” Logan says quietly.

 “I’m not yelling! But yes, now is not the time.”

 Virgil coaxes his head to one side, and Roman lifts his arm by the back of his hand.

 Janus’s mouth drops open.

 There are little animals drawn on his right arm, from his wrist to his elbow. There’s a navy cat, simple and clean, near the vein. A light blue frog with little glasses. A purple and black spider. A green octopus with large black tentacles. And an unfinished red dragon right near his wrist.

 “If I could finish,” Roman asks softly.

 “Alright, calm down, here.” Remus lowers his arm and holds it steady. Roman puts the brush back to his arm and starts painting again. Virgil and Remus start arguing about something, probably, but he can’t focus on anything besides the soft bristles of the brush on his arm, the rumble of Virgil’s chest, and the warmth of the weight on his legs.

 Logan stands behind his head. “You don’t need to wear a mask here, Janus,” he says softly, “not unless you want to.”

 No one else hears him except for Patton. He gives Janus’s leg a squeeze.

 It’s warm. It’s so warm.

 He wants to watch as Roman paints the dragon but he’s tired but he doesn’t want to sleep yet…not just yet.

 Patton reaches towards his face. His finger lands on his forehead and drags gently down the bridge of his nose.

 What…?

 Oh.

 As he follows his touch, Janus’s eyes drift closed.

 It’s so warm.

 And a warm hand on his cheek wipes the last of the mask away.

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[goodieghosty]

Had the weirdest dream last night about werewolves and the Sides like-it was odd because there was like, a school, for werewolves to go to to learn how to control themselves and about their history and whatnot.

I'm p sure I was Virgil, only because I didn't see him but I saw everyone else. And had a weird hate thing going on with the werewolf I was supposedly meant to?? Marry and lead his pack with? Idk how that happened.

Virgil wasn't even a werewolf, he was a vampire who could shapeshift and was just, dousing himself in werewolf pheromones to infiltrate the school. For who knows what reason. Almost certain Remus and Janus were in on it. Janus also being a vampire. Logan was also a vampire but he was there solely for academic reasons so the school allowed it

There was this one scene where I just ??? It was orientation. It's a small school so they just went, 'alright, if you're sitting together, congratulations. That's your class.' I'm not even sure this was an actual formal school. But ye all the sides-plus some extras-were seated at the same table

ANYWAYS one of the extras was pestering everyone and this is where we learned that some werewolves have special abilities, and her's was apparently 'being able to know everything about a person by scent alone' but she was getting everything wrong about Janus and Virgil, but not Remus, who she was sitting beside. Virgil basically got up and said, "Remus you wanna swap? You're looking uncomfortable." Which says a lot for Remus.

Anyways they swapped seats and then I woke up :/

Damn and I really wanted that enemies to lovers arc-and an explanation as to w h y Roman and Virgil were supposedly 'meant to be'. And since my subconscious didn't give that to me, I'm going to do it myself.

Love at first sight very much exists. It's a soulmate thing. Virgil is almost convinced it has to do with the werewolf pheromones, and that's why he's continually hostile towards Roman. He also has to keep his cover, because if he's found out, if the werewolves don't kill him, his coven will.

I wanna say Logan is the first to figure Janus and Virgil out-Remus is a werewolf, but I think he has a sort of animosity towards his pack to make him want to turn against them. Logan believes that they're there for academic purposes as well, and he's confused as to why they didn't go his route. They tell him they hadn't thought about it. He assures that he'll keep their secret.

I just want the group to have to go out on a trip to use their werewolf senses to track something, and end up in some old, untouched ruins that just goes deeper and deeper and eventually some of them get lost and separated until it's just the sides-minus Janus and Remus, who are off doing something else idk. And Virgil just keeps having this weird deja Vu until his lil group comes across more and more signs of what happened there

And Virgil is just, in this weird trance, making comments every step of the way. Because by now he's grown close to them all, and they consider him their friend. And he hates lying to them, but he's so conflicted. And the little comments just keep happening until they're at this great big, ballroom. With aged curtains covering the walls and cracked marble tiles. And a grand staircase where one would have made their grand entrance-now covered in dust and mold.

"Virgil, how do you know all this?" "He's just guessing-" "Because I was there." And one second he's at the top of the stairs with them, and the next they look he's down in the middle of the ball room floor. "I was there." And he points up, to the curtains on the walls. It's Roman who pulls them down, and after getting over the overwhelming dust they see that there's an aged family portrait. "... I don't see-" "Yeah that's kinda the point. Look closer, the wonders of modern medicine, huh?"

And there's a young woman who bears a striking resemblance to Virgil, in a purple gown, with his same mismatched eyes. "I was turned shortly after the attack. I'm sorry I didn't... tell any of you guys sooner."

"... Virgil, we already knew." "Wat." "I mean, it was kinda obvious. You're so pale, you never leave your room during the day, and you take all your meals alone? I mean, we're not stupid." "Yeah, I think everyone knows." "WHAT?!" "Not gonna lie, your coven is kinda... Lacking in the brain department." "I believe this is them 'trimming the fat', actually. It's common for covens to send who they perceive as their weakest or most troublesome on dangerous tasks, hoping they'll perish."

And Janus from out of nowhere "Well that's just Great. Would explain why we haven't heard back from them either."

So yeah, apparently there is no threat of their coven breathing down their necks after all

"Awww, but I wanted to kill someone!" And there's Remus.

[scabopolis]

Ummm because my brain could never come up with something as genius as yours, I will ask—nay, BEG—for more LoVe Vampire AU from Day 1 AU week.

Title: do not engage (part two of this little ficlet) Rating: PG-13 (some swears…because girl is still stressed) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Additional Tags: Secret identity, vaguely vampire hunter related things, filed under: relationship obstacles, sharing of bagels, vampire Logan is probably far too schmoopy, tried to write angst but whooops I think it's fluff? Word Count: 1,800

For you, dear, @ayy-ohh? Anything. This one really got me stuck because...like...world building? What is that? And would vampires eat bagels? And why DOES Logan have a cell in his basement? So many questions. Anyway! Here it is! *** That she can’t remember ever seeing Logan Echolls in the daylight should have been Veronica’s first clue.

It’s just, given the nocturnal demands of her profession and thus her morning grumpiness, it was easy to miss. Easy to be grateful for. Easy to be relieved that Logan wasn’t like her college boyfriend—the kind of guy who insisted they wake up at 6:00 AM to go running and felt a day spent inside with the shades drawn was a day wasted.

There were, of course, other clues she missed.

Weirdly cryptic statements and obfuscations. (Given she was also prone to said crypticism, she didn’t press for fear he’d do the same.) His reticence towards beach days. (It seemed logical! Who doesn’t hate dodging tourists?) The weird way he’d linger at doorways of unfamiliar houses. (Again, given her own antipathy to socializing, his hesitation was something she understood.)

In retrospect, given that not pressing Logan on his vague answers landed her here—in a weird cell gnawing at the ropes her ex-boyfriend tied tightly around her wrists—she supposes she should have tried harder. She hears Logan’s footsteps on the stairs into the basement but doesn’t stop her attempt to undo the knots.

“I hope you have a good dental plan,” Logan says. She rolls her eyes and continues to work at the strands with her teeth. “Is there even a vampire hunter’s union? Might be something worth looking into. Though, given the general mistrust the position requires, electing a president might prove tricky.”

“God, staking you would have at least gotten you to shut up.”

“But then there’s the crushing guilt.”

“I would have managed.”

Do not engage. In the 36-ish hours she’s been in this cell, that’s been her motto. The secret to coping with the fact that your boyfriend is a vampire and that you and your dad are vampire hunters is to remain detached and cold.

Except it hasn’t been easy. Because her wrists hurt, she smells bad, and oh yeah, apparently she’s not as out of love with the bloodthirsty monster wearing the hell out of a henley and holding a bag of takeout as she thought.

“I got bagels,” he says.

As soon as he says it, the scent of cinnamon raisin wafts from the bag. He doesn’t wait for her to stand; simply slips the paper bag containing her bagel through the bars and slides it to her. Much like he’s done for their previous shared meals, he sits on the ground a safe distance from her and settles into eating his own.

She tears the paper bag and sees that not only has Logan brought her a bagel, he’s also brought her some sort of sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. God. What an asshole.

What is his endgame here? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. It’s only a matter of time until her dad begins to question whatever story Logan texted him from her phone. Her dad will show up and he will have questions. What will Logan say then?

“What will I say to who?” Logan asks.

Shit. Detachment is also easier when inside thoughts remain inside thoughts. “No one.”

“If you’re talking about your dad, he’s out of town for the rest of the week.”

She concentrates on the pattern of the cinnamon swirl laced throughout her breakfast. “What do you mean?”

“According to the text he sent you last night, he had to go to Vegas. Vampire gambling ring of some sort?”

“You’re lying.”

“Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her bagel, surveying the interior of her holding cell. And yes, fine, she technically has a policy of not engaging with the pointy fanged one, but she has questions.

“What is the point of having a cell in your basement? Is it for weird sex stuff? Or weird vampire stuff?”

“Who says those two things are mutually exclusive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me, please. I’m eating.”

“I’ll tell you but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“My friend, Mac?” He extends his legs out in front of him. “Once a month, this is her guest suite.”

Veronica frowns. “For weird sex stuff?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement which, fair, she should probably stop using the phrase weird sex stuff.

Wait. Is he saying—?

“Logan,” she says carefully, “is Mac a werewolf?” He nods, and Veronica’s bagel drops to the floor. “Could you be more of a vampiric cliche? Honestly! Does a zombie do your taxes? Does a ghoul trim your hedges?”

“I trim my own hedges, thank you very much.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or it might be the remaining vestiges of adrenaline leaving her body, but Veronica laughs. Just a little bit. At best it’s a chuckle. Still, it’s enough to make Logan smile in that way he sometimes does—like he can’t believe his luck that he even gets to be in the same room as Veronica. It makes something feel heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Do not engage.

“You really didn’t know?” she asks.

Logan’s answer with a slow nod. “I didn’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“It wasn’t an ambush, Veronica.” He pinches off a small piece of his bagel. (Sourdough, she guesses. Probably with jalapeno cream cheese because the man added jalapenos to everything.) She watches as Logan rolls the bread between his fingers. “The date was real but one of Dick’s friends recognized you somehow.”

“You were the one who threw me into a tree.”

“Yeah, and as far as they know, you’re dead. As far as they know, I was so enraged a vampire hunter tricked me that I took you home to finish you off.”

“Which means if you let me go—”

“They’ll know I lied.” He shrugs. “Either they kill me or your dad does. This way you’re safe.”

“Logan—”

“Sorry,” he says. “You called dibs on the killing?”

“Poor little vamp with a death wish.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound so fond. What is wrong with her?

The corner of his mouth twitches with a fleeting smile. There’s a ticking clock on their time together and now they both know it.

“I’ve never seen a vampire eat as much food as you,” she says.

He sets his bagel aside. ���Dine with a lot of vampires?”

“Enough to know you eating that bagel is like me eating a bag of sour gummies.”

“Meaning?”

“You might like the taste of a lightly toasted sesame bagel, but an hour later you need to puncture the carotid artery of a single mother to really satisfy yourself.”

“You know sesame seeds get caught in my teeth. And single mothers come with too much guilt.”

“Hedge fund managers?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Veronica has questions, of course she does. More questions than she can properly express—wonders how old he is, who turned him, who gets him blood and how, why he’s friends with Dick Casablancas, if Logan is safe with Dick as a friend—but she doesn’t ask any of those. Because he asks the most important question first.

“What are we going to do, Veronica?”

She stands up, brushes cinnamon raisin crumbs off of her pants. (She catches a whiff of her unshowered self and cringes. So much for their farewell existing as a perfectly preserved memory in the mind of her undead ex-boyfriend.) “There’s no we, Logan. There can’t be.”

He can’t let her go, he can’t keep her locked up, and she can’t stay.

Logan pushes himself up off the ground and comes to meet her at the bars to the cell. “Yeah.”

“First, you’re going to let me out of here.” She wraps her hands around the bars. Logan does just like she’d hoped and does the same, his pinkies barely grazing her knuckles. “And then I never want to see you ever again.”

“That’s what you want?”

God. What a fucking idiot. Of course that isn’t what she wants. What she wants is to go back two days. To return to that night when Logan made pancakes for dinner, and they got drunk on rum and cokes, and then he kissed down her spine as they lay in bed.

She nods anyway. Presses her head against the bars.

“Fine.” Veronica squeezes her eyes shut. “If you ever need anything?” She nods again and she feels the gentle touch of Logan’s lips to her forehead. How is he always so warm? It never made sense.

“I won’t.”

And then, much to her surprise, he walks away. Without letting her out.

She opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he says, a portrait of portrait insouciance once more. “You didn’t expect me to let you go now did you? What if this show of emotion is a long con? I could wake up to find you standing over my body poised to pull back my black out shades.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Nighty night, Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t return to the basement and eventually she falls into a fitful sleep, waking up sometime before the sun rises. She definitely needs to pee and she’s so sick of the ‘toilet’ in her cell. Logan should still be awake. Maybe if she yells really—

Finishing that thought proves to be unnecessary because as soon as Veronica’s eyes adjust to the dim light, she notices the door to her cell is ajar. She’s barely thinking as she jumps from the bed and races up the stairs.

“Logan!” she calls out.

Her first stop is the kitchen, where she maneuvers a knife in between the strands of the ropes around her wrists and works to free herself. Her cell phone is waiting for her on the wireless charger Logan keeps in the kitchen. No messages from her dad, but she sends one to check in. She rubs at the tender skin on her wrists as she searches each room of Logan’s house.

As far as she can tell, there isn’t much missing. Some of his toiletries are gone (her toothbrush is still beside the sink) and she thinks maybe some of his clothes too. His motorcycle is still in the garage but the BMW is gone.

So. That’s it? He’s just gone? What about his house? There’s a housing crisis in southern California and this asshole thinks it’s acceptable to simply abandon a perfectly good home? He didn’t even leave a note.

It’s really the irresponsibility that—

Her call rings through to his voicemail. Rolls her eyes at the Dylan Thomas quote that greets her. That’s new.

“If you think I’m watering your plants for you while you’re gone, you are completely delusional.”

He responds while she’s in the shower. (What? She’s really supposed to put up with shitty water pressure at her place when he has a rain shower and heated bathroom tiles?)

Miss me already?

She responds with a garlic emoji.

[natromanxoff]

I wasn’t sure about posting this at first but as it is already shared publicly and I have come across with it on Pinterest, I decided that it would be okay. So here is a story of a fan about Jim Hutton:

“ON 23rd of March, there was a Queen Tribute band concert in Goresbridge and my boyfriend told me that Jim would come as well. He admitted that he had arranged with Stephen for Jim to come along. The concert was in the pub called The Spirit Store. What a great name for spiritual meeting, I thought. When I entered, Jim sat at the table with Stephen, Jascqueline, her sister Valeria and other family friends. There was nowhere to sit, so we just stood by the table for a while. When I looked at Jim, he appeared somewhat fragile and tiny, like a man who could easily be overlooked. He didn´t look anything like those photos portraying him in the books.

After a while, there was a free seat by the table and everyone, including Jim, moved in order for us to sit down. It was just one place and my friend Mike wanted to take it. He got up fast but they all stopped him. Jim measured Mike up and down and told him, "Perhaps you should let the lady sit here, you cavalier!" Embarassed, Mike got up from his chair and offered it to me. I got the honorable place alongside Jim. Being a woman sometimes has its advantages! Jim welcomed me with heartfelt "Hi". At first I was nervous, but after a while I felt relaxed and enjoyed Jim's company. I was aware of his behavior, gestures, laughter, and tried to absorb his energy all at once. It was easy to talk to him about anything and everything.

I wanted to know the man Freddie loved so much, so I guess I started giving him many questions.

"Jim, are you still in touch with Phoebe?" Jim looked at me closely and began to talk to me with interest. "I haven´t really been talking to him for a long time. I know he had a hotel in Dubai, then he sold it, and he's in Prague now. He also bought something overthere and I think he's going to settle down there." When I heard about Prague, I jumped up excitedly and told him that I was from there. He smiled a little, though the coincidence like this didn´t overwhelm him as much as me.

He relished glass of Budwaiser and smoked Ultra light Silk Cuts. He offered me one and lit it up for me like a real gentleman. It seemed he wanted to continue talking. We both made fun of the ultralight effect of his cigarettes, which would probably piss off every orthodox smoker, Freddie for sure! He then demonstrated jokingly, how to properly smoke them. He inhaled all the smoke by sucking in his cheeks and widening his eyes, as if he should soon burst like an inflated toad. None of us resisted and we both burst into a mad laughter. I told him about my visit to Munich and meeting Barbara. He smiled and listened, then he rolled his eyes up to heaven and stated that she is one hell of a crazy woman. I totally agreed, and added, that also alcoholic one. It was surreal to talk about mutual aquaintances together, people we both knew. I also mentioned my visit to New York club and I could see how he returns nostalgically into his memories. Then I also tried to make him remember my friend Allison, who told me about him in the first place.

"About nine years ago she visited you in London". He couldn´t remember and admitted, that since then a lot of people have passed through his life and many of them he never saw again.

I continued. "She showed me several of your photos and in one of them you were holding Freddie's portrait that you bought at the auction". Suddenly he jumped up and said he knew whom I mean.

I showed him my miniature box containing a stone and talked about it with almost patriotic pride. "It's a stone from Logan Mews that I had to dig out from under the threshold of his house, because there was nothing else to take." Jim laughed out loud, this time without any hindrance and doubt that I was totally crazy. I also laughed because I knew I sound like nuts. He remarked with smile from ear to ear that I was pretty crazy. "Yeah, I'm crazy, and I'm proud to be. Who isn´t...and by the way.....why not?" I smiled at what I just said, because that´s what Freddie would say, to defend himself. Jim then talked about the medallion that Freddie had given him for his birthday. He said, there were three miniature pictures inside. "The first is that of Miko ", he said gently, looking up at me to make sure I knew who he was talking about. "In the other one is Freddie" ... he continued with kind of fervor and love. Something deep inside me shivered. "In the third one," ... he didn´t answer yet, when I jumped into his monologue ...."Tiffany," I blurted out.

"My mom's photo," he finished his sentence. (and I prayed he didn´t register my answer).

It was nice to hear him remembering like that. He opened up in front of me the way I never dreamt of. I think it was nice for him to share these beautiful moments and to talk about things that meant so much to him. "This rock is my good luck charm. I have been listening to Queen since I´m twelve and I also work in the Fan Club's office. We celebrate his anniversary every year. When I went here, I was kidding with my friends that I might meet Jim Hutton in Ireland... and here you are, sitting right next to me. That´s my dream come true", I said all emotional.

"How do you know Stephen?", he inquired after while.

"I go out with Vinnie and they are good friends" He eyed my boyfriend and indicated that he knew who he was.

"I was annoying the two of them and was constantly asking them to bring you", I smiled.

"Oh, Jacqueline wanted me to come, alright" Jim smiled at the thought. Then he talked about the music talent competition, in which they were selecting the best imitators of Queen.

"What music are you actually listening to?" I wondered.

"I have no favorite, I'm listening to almost everything. Even a radio".

"And do you still have Zig and Zag?"

He only sighed and said in a sad voice that they had both died since then.

"And do you have any other cats?"

"Yeah, I have seven others now," Jim smiled. This number didn´t surprise me. The old habits are hard to kill.

"Do you still keep up the gardening, Jim?"

"Constantly," he said with a loving smile and amusedly showed me his hands dirty from the clay and covered in sores. For God's sake, he must have been gardening a few minutes before going to a concert!, I thought to myself. A complete garden maniac.....

We were joking on the account of the band that was supposed to start playing long time ago, but somehow did not. He told me it would be nice to get drunk, so we didn´t know how terrible they were. That really made me crack up. He could be so funny.

He joked and emphasized to everyone around the table, that instead of a concert he could have been at home watching his favorite movie. In the same breath, he admitted that he was curious about their performance and that he hadn´t been out in ages.

He leaned over to me and confessed, that now he lived a life completely cut off from the rest of the world.

"We are basically the same, I am basically like him. Now I just enjoy loneliness and privacy. I don´t go out anywhere except my garden". I immediately knew whom he was referring to in his speech.

I said that I had discovered his house in Palatine and apologized when I saw his slightly concerned look. I said I was just little curious.

He then recalled a few of his encounters with the fans. One day there was an unknown car with a couple of strangers that arrived to his house. They came all way from Vienna and they found him by questioning people in a town! Not a hard thing to trace him, he said, as every cab driver in the area knows him pretty well. One local newspaper even published a photo of his house, and although they gave a wrong address, a lot of people had found him.

That made me laugh, because I knew what it means to be a devoted fan.

"On the other hand, it's nice to know that someone is constantly looking after you and giving you the feeling that all this is still alive," I added with a smile.

"Jim, do you still have your Volvo?"

"You mean the one that Freddie gave me?.....No, I don´t have it few years now, I´ve swapped it for a new one," he smiled.

He was all too gallant all the time, always lighting my cigarette.

He also wondered how long I would stay in Ireland, so I said that only another half a year.

"And you wanna come back here?" He asked suddenly.

"Oh, I'd love to. I'm trying to find a job either in Carlow or Kilkenny," I said enthusiastically.

Then I fell silent, looked at him and assured him "Definitely."

Each time he looked up into my eyes, I saw an incredibly nice person in front of me. Something in his silent expression suggested that he had suffered great deal of pain in life, but that he was now completely reconciled with his fate. Still, in his eyes shone a spark of unrelenting humor. In his company I forgot all about the world. I was happy to be able to make such an affluent and warm contact with him. The longer we knew each other, the closer we were.

When he wanted to go to the toilet, Stephen told him that the men's toilets were behind the bar and the ladies in front of the bar. It sounded like he wasn´t quite sure which one would Jim prefer.

But Jim didn´t care much and set off to the men's. I admit it made me laugh a little.

Then we continued our dialogue. I mentioned that I read both his and Phoebe's book, but that I couldn´t find his book anywhere in the stores. He confirmed that it´s out of print at the minute.

When I told him that I had stolen his book at the local library, he laughed and said that I should have asked him and he would have given me a copy, but he only had Italian version.

Finally, the band started to play. Everyone in the pub stood up and whole lot of us - as we were tucked in at the back, climbed onto the window ledges. I stood next to Jim, who remained seated.

He looked a little bit run over. I knew he was surrounded by the loneliness and I watched him with sadness. I lacked much power or words to comfort him. It was only after some wonderful songs that we both joined and got up. He could not remain sad in such a loving and friendly company for ever.

When he noticed the enormous, life-vibrant energy that only Queen music could produce in conjunction with a crowd of people singing, I think he forgot his personal pain. I could see pride in his face. He stood up and watched the band. Then he addressed me and made me come up onto the ledge above him to see better. I would not listen to anybody else, but from him it didn´t sound like an order. He wanted me to get the most out of it and it pleased me. Then we sat back and drank. Jim seemed to be getting cheerful and livelier. The more he drank, the more cheerful he was. The guys ordered him Red Bull with vodka. When I asked him if it was vodka, he claimed it was white lemonade! He put a warm glass of "vodka" on my hand, so I almost jumped out of my skin, which he thought was terribly funny.

Whatever he did, he looked at me as though I was the only person who knew what was behind his looks. His faces and funny grimaces reminded me of Freddie. He had a lot of subconsciously inherited poses and gestures from him. Even in his laughter I could detect an influence of Freddie's strong personality. He simply marked all people around him. It was not the same contagious and stormy laugh, but there was a spark of resemblance.

His niece Jacqueline, Valerie and Stephen, danced all the time on the ledge and Jim was pulling them and wrapping himself in between their legs, hugging them, clinging to them, and messing around like a little boy. It was a wonderful sight, as he was so happy and childish.

After some time, Jim lost himself in a crowd of concert goers, so I went to look for him. Without his company it felt such a sad place. It was as if he had fallen through the ground, which made me very nervous. Finally, I found him by the entrance table, where he was joking away with one old blonde, not too different from frivolous Barbara Valentin. I asked him for a photo together. At first he looked impenetrable but as soon as I threw a sad eye and smirked, he brightened up and agreed as if saying "You know you can, anything for you, darling"

His niece Valerie took our picture. He then whispered to me that he hopes I´ll send him some pictures later.

After that he announced that we are going back inside to listen to the band.

I saw them from close-up and I must say that it was much better to just hear them. They looked rather too comic with all their wigs. It was something that would make Freddie laugh too.

I told Jim that they don´t look very natural,which he agreed with, but he said he couldn´t complain about their music. He was totally right, because musically they weren´t bad and the singer had a very authentic voice.

Inside, everybody was dancing and Jim joined in and circled around them like a rogalo.

The whole pub vibrated with intense and loving energy. There was no one who would be bored. Jim then threw himself in the arms of his two nieces, who gently caressed him in his hair and embraced him. He let them take care of him, now vulnerable like a little lost child all of a sudden.

There was something deeply touching about it. He had closed his eyes and sadly lowered his head, as if his tears flowed deep inside, in his invisible world. I realized at this stage, how much he really loved Freddie. I was looking at him and I had a desire to caress him and comfort him but instead, I had to stand aside.

"You can have everything and yet feel alone", Freddie once said. But I was glad Jim had his family and friends around him, who cared and protected him. Jim was going through sorrow and joy,both at the same time, it seemed.

During one of his many shananigans, I caught him messing around with his niece's boyfriend.

He sat him on his knees and imitated sexual intercourse. It would seem offensive and utterly crazy to someone who didn´t know him. But we all did. Jim was laughing like crazy and when he finally looked at me, he seemed a little embarrassed by his behavior and gave me a look that said"I hope you won´t tell on me to Freddie"...but it was hard to take him seriously.

We both smiled conspiratorially at each other. In that sense, our relationship no matter how short-lived, was special. We understood one another in thoughts. He winked at me a couple of times, tapping my beer like an old buddy.

In one moment in particular, Jim leaned over me and whispered: "You as a fan have right to be crazy, but them" ... pointing at our dancing group of friends ... " they are fucked up", he said with smile and he began to knock his finger against his forehead. An international gesture that doesn´t need an interpreter!

Jim then went to the toilets for a while, and I, like a stray sheep, followed him through crowds of oblivious dancers. He was somewhat drunk at that time and barely retained a balance. He staggered a little like a broken tree. No surprise after god knows how many Red bulls and vodkas! I was bit afraid for him, so I supported him inconspicuously by both shoulders from behind. He went to the toilet and cared too little to even close the door behind him. If anyone was looking, he would see Jim Hutton pissing in a toilet bowl in his bright canary shirt.

At that moment they played the most touching song of all, These are the Days of our lives .... I stood by the door and listened, watching the band and waited for Jim. I don´t know why, perhaps because of the fate that brought me here, I suddenly felt terrible sorrow. I was sorry for Freddie and Jim. Tears poured into my eyes. I didn´t cry, but was very close to it. Jim suddenly appeared next to me and noticed my face. "What about those tears? I hope you don´t cry", but at this stage I was lost for words. His concern made me sad even more. Something inside me forced me to caress him. I hugged him gently around his neck and put my head on his shoulder for a moment. I wanted to let him know that I am very sorry about what happened to Freddie. He did not resist. He knew he wasn´t the only one in the world who was missing him. I looked into his eyes, and I told him a sentence that I didn´t know why I said, but I strongly felt it..."Jim, he's here, he IS here." His expression was rather confused at first. "Do you believe me?" ... I said this with a seriousness and a certain degree of self-assurance that he froze for a while. He looked thoughtful. He knew what I was talking about.

I seemed to only confirm his inner conviction. He didn´t say a word. He wiped my tear away with the edge of his hand and without warning, took me firmly by the hand and led me through crowds back to our friends. There was a lot of care and love in his touch. The music was just playing and Freddie just sang "I still love you" and I knew he did.

I didn´t want to leave, but I knew I said everything I needed to. I could not leave without saying goodbye. It would be a sin after all this to just disappear into eternity. I interrupted him from the conversation with someone else, leaned over the table and said, "Jim, I'm leaving now, so I want to say goodbye, it was great pleasure meeting you." I smiled as much as my heart allowed me to and shook his hand. He stared up and thought for a moment, and then, without any hesitance said, "We do not see each other for the last time." I didn´t know at this time how true his words were.

I thought I did not understand well, so I asked again, "sorry?" and he repeated patiently and more resolutely, "I shall surely see you again," while taking my hand into his hands and kissing it gently.

He left me in amazement. I stumbled out from there perplexed but still I could hear him talking about me to someone there. He probably said he hadn´t seen a bigger nutcase in a long time, assuming from his cute teddybear smile. Gosh I loved him so much!

The next day I learned from my friends that Jim was looking next morning for his jacket that he had forgotten in his car. Few days later, I've sent him the promised photographs. Jacquie confirmed that he called in to say he had received them allright.”

2001

“...And then I returned back to Ireland in 2004.

I had the opportunity to welcome Jim to my own home in Carlow sometime in 2006. He was Stephen´s surprise. When the door opened up, I didn´t see him at first.

Then his head popped out from the side of the door and with a laugh he emerged a bit later. He hugged me like we hadn´t seen each other for million years. What I felt at that moment was indescripable. My dear Jim back in my life and in my own house!

We all sat in the living room, Jim settled down on the sofa, I was sitting on the ground and absorbed the precious moments because I knew time spent with him was only borrowed time. Then we watched Queen videos and talked about Freddie as if he were in the next room. It was so surreal. Me and Jim agreed that our favorite video was Scandal, and he just added that Freddie didn´t like it very much because he couldn´t make any creative input in it, although he loved the song.

Then we talked about his illness, about him taking up to 40 pills a day to sustain his health and he also explained the difference between AIDS and HIV, as many people still didn´t know. We have talked so much and - above all - we laughed all night, almost at everything. It was so easy to succumb to his funny personality once again and to his heartfelt laughter. He made jokes about fancying my ex-boyfriend, whom he lied on top of on the sofa. Long time ago, I´ve sent him a letter explaining to him how Freddie has impacted my life. But I've forgotten I´ve ever written it and now I was faced with the horror that I actually have sent it. I hoped he has forgotten about it, but when Jim and I met in the corridor of our house, I couldn´t but apologize to him for that letter, and for being so daring. To my surprise, he looked at me softly with his tired eyes and assured me that my letter was absolutely fascinating. Then we were interrupted by Stephen, who was just leaving a toilet and the conversation was cut short at that point. Unfortunatelly I would never have the chance to find out what was the next thing he was about to say, because I noticed he wanted to continue, if he weren´t interrupted.

When we were saying goodbye at the door, he treated me as an old friend. He simply kissed me on the lips, which utterly shocked me and made me laugh at the same time.

He invited us back to his house to have a little party, but my ex-boyfriend was not in the perfect mood and so we politely declined, which I will forever regret!

About a year after that I bumped into Jim several times in the city where we both lived, or we exchanged text messages whenever I needed to advise what room flowers would be best for our new house. Sometimes I learnt about how he´s doing through my ex-boyfriend, who used to hang out with him and drink few pints in a night bar. Once my ex confessed how Jim told him that I was a great person and he should be happy to have me. They must have been talking about me!!!!

Then I met Jim one night in the nightclub, where he was with his friends. He spent most of his time sitting in the lounge smoking a cigarette, having fun with younger girls. Wherever he was, you heard his laughter. That night my ex-boyfriend arranged for Jim and me to have a dance together.

Jim was just dancing on the dancefloor with some older woman. I remember he had his jumper tied around his waist. I just got onto the dancefloor, he looked at me all serious and pulled me close to him. It was some tediously slow song that I can´t even remember, I just know that we were staggering from side to side like two handiccaped penguins and that made me laugh hysterically.

He was such a clown! Now, however, I consider this moment as one of the most precious memories of him. It was my night.

Back in 2009, I have learned that Jim was diagnosed with cancer. My ex-boyfriend told me how concerned Jim was when informing him. He said, he wept. At that time I didn´t know how serious the situation was and I hoped Jim will get better in no time. I believed the doctors would somehow help him out of it. I saw him a little later at work when he came to our restaurant for breakfast.

I almost served him as another customer, but when I realized it was him, I pulled myself back into the kitchen and let the other girls serve him. He never noticed. I was in such state of shock. I didn´t know what to do, how to act and what to say. He was so thin, just skin and bone. His face was sinking, his eyes full of pain, a small tube leading from his nose to the oxygen device he carried in his backpack and a small canvas hat on his head. I couldn´t believe this was Jim, whom I have remembered being so full of life and joy only half a year ago. I wanted to cry like never before. I also felt embarassed by my own cowardly reaction. I wished more than anything in my life to hug him and say I loved him. I wanted to wish him a happy Christmas. But I was scared of my own tears, which would not help him in his situation.

I wrote him a message on the phone, but he didn´t respond. And then I got the terrible news. Jim died and somehow I also missed his funeral. I took a first taxi and went at least to his months Mass and visited his grave, bringing him daffodils and little white lantern with candle. It was so hard for me. His relatives stood above his grave. I said my prayers in a minute of silence. The air didn´t move and the moon was full in the night sky. It was dark and cold all around but I didn´t care.

I wanted to see him laugh and mess around like he used to. It was as if another star had disappeared and fell to the earth. If only life could last forever.”

2006-2010

Credits to Seraphiel’s blog. Please don’t repost without credits.

[private-snippers]

A Fog of Green

Soulmate September Day 4 - There is a trail of colour only you can see that marks out where your soulmate has been.

Pairings: Intrulogical, very minor anxceit (it’s mentioned in like two paragraphs at the very end

Warnings: blink and you’ll miss it self deprecation, talk of blood, gore, death (generally just Remus being Remus)

Notes: you can read Intrulogical as romantic or queer-platonic. I like to think of them as QPP’s, but there is talk of proposing at the end and I’m not sure if QPP’s get married?

ao3

Logan sighed, checking his watch for what must have been the seventh time in the past minute. If Patton has been in his position, he may have said Logan was checking his watch for the thousandth time, but he wasn’t, and Logan was not one for hyperboles.

Logan’s shift had started nearly 10 minutes ago, and they had been fidgeting endlessly ever since. He had been expecting a calm shift, looking at the fish and perhaps informing customers of a few facts. With this new disturbance, however, they thought it best that the customers simply inform themselves using the plaques attached to the walls nearby the tanks. The constantly fading trail of green smoke had their full attention.

It flowed in from the jellyfish exhibit, through the hall Logan was stationed in, and out past into the amphibians and beyond. Logan had come into the hall through the reptile exhibit, only passing the entrance to the amphibians, too engrossed in his thoughts to notice the green smoke. Even if he had noticed, however, he would have had to wait, as he did now, for the end of his shift. It was only his second day at the job, he could not afford to be flagged for missing his shift.

Instead, Logan spent their time pacing the hall, thinking of their soulmate and praying to the stars and the constellations among them that their soulmate would still be in their general vicinity when their shift finished.

Luckily for him, there was no need to wait.

Logan heard several pounding footsteps come in from the reptile exhibit, along with a few muffled apologies. His head snapped up, but not quick enough to dodge before he caught a flash of green out of the corner of his eye and someone slammed directly into him.

“Oh, fuck! Sorry! I’m looking for my–” they paused, looking at the air around Logan, “for you, apparently! Shit, that was a bad first impression. I’m Remus, she/her right now!”

“Logan, he/they. I presume that you are the source of all this green smoke everywhere?”

“So long as you’re the blue! Wait, I'm green? Please tell me I’m a good green!”

Logan laughed, “Well I certainly believe you to be. My apologies for not finding you sooner, I was planning to finish my shift before searching for my soulmate”

Soulmates. That’s what they were. Remus took a good, long look at the person standing in front of her– her Soulmate!–and grinned.

“I was too caught up in the exhibit’s to notice the smoke! They redid the reptile tanks after the last time I was here so I was reading all the new signs they put up!”

“You enjoy learning? Excellent. I am pursuing a degree in Astrophysics, with a minor in astronomy.”

“Ooh, fun! I’m gonna be a marine biologist, I’m writing a research thing on turtles! Did you know that alligator snapping turtles are a thing! They’re like alligator-turtle hybrids and they are insane! Nature is fucked! I wonder what it’d look like if they tore off someone’s head! Would it be like one clean snap, or maybe just a big, gushing tear–”

“Well I do not believe that an alligator snapping turtle would enjoy a human,” Logan interrupted, “it would certainly be interesting to research what effect their jaws and teeth have on their prey. Perhaps we could research it together over dinner?”

Remus looked up in astonishment, “You want to have dinner with me?”

“Why, of course. You are my soulmate, after all, and I do not believe that I would be given a soulmate I would dislike conversing with. The majority of soulmates develop a relationship together, do they not?”

“Well, yes, but– never mind. I’ll talk to Emile–my therapist,” Remus said after a questioning look from Logan, “about it next week.”

“If you are certain.” After a nod from Remus, Logan continued. “Why don’t you tell me more about Alligator snapping turtles? They sound intriguing, and you certainly seem to know a lot about them.”

The two continued to chat for the rest of Logan’s shift, prattling on about alligator snapping turtles, various other reptiles, and certain aspects of space that may or may not have involved explosions and flames.

~~~

It was a few weeks after the two had met, and their relationship was progressing nicely. They were texting or calling daily and meeting regularly as well. A few days ago, Remus had said that their brother wanted to meet Logan. Logan had agreed, as they saw no reason to wait any longer to meet, and as such had arranged to meet today.

Logan and Remus were standing in front of Roman’s door, a small two-bedroom apartment on the third floor of a building in the middle of downtown. Logan was nervously clasping and unclasping his fist, as he often did when he was anxious.

Remus grabbed their hand, squeezing it before whispering to them. “It’s alright, Lo, Roman’s great! Don’t tell him I said this but,” Xe lowered xir voice a bit, “he’s really helped me with, well, everything, and he’s a great brother.” Xe gave Logan’s hand one last squeeze before turning and knocking erratically on the door. “He’s gonna love you.”

There was a quick and sudden tapping of feet behind the door before it swung open to reveal Roman. “Remus!” He said, double-checking xir bracelet colour–a vibrant green almost identical to Remus’s smoke colour, much to Logan’s surprise and Remus’s delight. “And–Logan? You're my brother’s soulmate?”

“Wait, you guys know each other? What the hell?”

“Yes,” Logan said, “We were project partners a couple of months ago. Roman must have moved, as I did not recognize his apartment. Wait–You were the cause of the green smoke!” He said incredulously, turning to Remus.

“I–Yes?” Remus asked. “Were you not aware of my smoke colour which only you can see?”

“No,” Logan replied, a little frustrated, “When I came over for the project, I saw a faint green smoke drifting around the kitchen and sitting room. I asked Roman whether anyone had been in the house in the past few hours, and he said no. I assumed it had been a mirage of some sort, but you were there!”

“You snuck into my apartment?” Roman said, faking outrage. “Why?”

“I wanted cookies!” Xe turned to Logan. “Ro-bro has the best chocolate chip cookie recipe! You need to have some.”

“Actually, I’m all out. You ate them all yesterday, remember?”

“You had a whole day! And this is Logan, My Soulmate, remember?” Remus said.

“I was helping Janus plan for his date? With Virgil? He’s gonna propose?”

“Oooh, yeah! How’d the planning go?” Remus bounced around the hall as he spoke, mind running a mile a minute. “Is he gonna fly a giant banner with Virgil’s face on it across the sky? Ooh, no what about fireworks that say ‘Marry me, Virgil,” except they look like blood splatters and shit! Or or or! What about painting a portrait of Virgil in fake, or real, blood and then on the back it says “Marry me!” Yes, I’m a genius!”

Roman just shook his head. “I’ll tell you inside, c’mon!”

And if years later Logan uses one or more of those exact suggestions to propose to Remus, no one said anything.

[the-sunshine-dims]

Amnesia rewrite! (chapter 2 electric boogaloo)

Logan’s here now!

ch 1 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7

original fic

words: 1,799

ao3 

contents and warnings: angst (past), hurt/comfort, friendly teasing, amnesia, Janus is mentally a child, injury, blood, hypothetical dead body, cursing, Logan’s kinda blunt,

______

By the time Roman had gotten to Logan’s door, which had taken surprisingly long since Roman wanted to make sure he was careful, with janus, the poor side who had ended up completely and utterly asleep pretty much the moment roman began walking, utterly exhausted, and honestly Roman wouldn’t admit it but he imagines he’d be exhausted as well if he was in Janus’s place.

Roman looked at Janus again before sighing and doing his best to adjust him into one arm so he could knock on Logan’s door, and once he had, he knocked, making sure to be the quietest he could while still being heard on the other end as not to wake up Janus,

And Soon emerged Logan, who looked tired and grumpy and like he was about to tell them to go away, but then his eyes caught Janus, and Roman could see the confusion and curiosity ignite in his eyes, so when those curious eyes met Romans, roman just pointed inside and mouthed ‘not now, inside.’ Logan, deciding this was more important than work at the moment, just shook his head to himself, nodded and opened his door to let them in.

Roman made his way to the bed and carefully set Janus on it, and when Janus began to stir in his sleep, roman huffed a laugh before summoning a warm blanket and setting it onto him, which placated him enough to remain asleep. 

Then when roman was done with that he turned to Logan and walked with him across the room to where Janus wouldn’t wake up from the noise, before the conversation began.

Logan was first to talk, “okay care to fill me in?” He gestured vaguely to Janus “Because frankly there’s no way somethings not wrong, He was just sleeping in your arms which is very uncharacteristic if you haven't noticed-“ he glanced at Janus just a second or two too long before turning to Roman “-.. and he’s bleeding, or at least had been bleeding.” 

Roman sighed and nodded “yeah.. okay so my theory is Janus had stumbled into the imagination and something got to him. And I also think.. he may have hit his head, or something.. if i'm right.” Roman spared a concerned glance to Janus before turning his head to Logan once again.

Logan looked between the two for a minute before going “.. are.. are you suggesting amnesia?”

“I.. think so, Janus didn’t seem to recognize me and he got all freaked out when he saw all of the family portraits didn’t include king and then he got even more freaked out when I told him king was split and when i asked if he remembered, unless he was the best actor in the world- which is impossible since that’s me-“ he fake coughed before continuing -“I would have figured out if he was lying when he said he didn’t remember. Also” he vaguely gestured to him “Janus would never cry in front of us, especially full on sob, which he did, in front of me. so even if he didn’t have amnesia something is definitely wrong.”

Logan took a couple minutes to process all that information before simply going “ah, it's good you brought him to me then,” and then after another second or so he gave a thoughtful look and continued “it’s.. changed a lot since king was around, and if that’s around where his memory is  we need to keep and eye on him so he doesn’t get hurt,” he told him seriously before he huffed a laugh “we don’t need another side walking into a door.”

Roman nodded to what Logan was saying before he fully processed the last bit in which he gasped in offense and pointed at him accusingly “I’ll have you know that that only happened once! You hear me? Once!” And though he continued muttering about ‘that happens once and this is my treatment?’ He stopped talking to logan for the moment.

Logan chuckled, and after a minute or so Roman stopped muttering angrily and instead made the noise of a lightbulb going off In his head, before he began speaking “also because he was definitely bleeding earlier we should get him to take a bath or a shower so he doesn’t just.. die or something” 

Logan nodded “yes it would be a good idea to clean the wounds, though I don’t believe he would die if we didn't since we are figments of thomas’s imagination, at worst there’d be a really bad infection, though i definitely do need to see how deep those wounds are.”

Roman nodded “and this, my dear nerd, is why I brought him to you.”

Logan let out an unamused huff as he shook his head, then after a couple moments he quieted “roman, king creativity hasn’t been around for a very long time, so, Janus may very well be in the headspace of a child, so be careful to be soft with him while we figure everything out. okay?”

Roman nodded quietly “okay.”

______

After an hour or so Janus woke up, and after another ten or so minutes he was fully conscious.

Which meant they had to talk to him, since they couldn't just.. Not.

Roman started first, “okay, okay, Dee?” He asked softly. internally questioning if him saying dee was correct, but deciding that he thought calling him deceit would be cold under the circumstances and calling him Janus probably wouldn’t be good if he didn’t remember the previous time before he passed out, so Dee it was. He continued “okay, so here’s the thing-“ he cut himself off again, really how do you explain to someone their head got all Fucky wucky and now they don’t got most of the memories? Really, how do you do it?

 After a moment he sent a look of ‘help’ to Logan and after a sigh that went unnoticed by janus, logan cut in “so, me and roman, we were talking earlier.. and after everything we’ve deduced we’re almost certain you have a case of amnesia, most likely from blunt force trauma.” 

Roman interrupted him there, “okay specs I don’t think it’s the appropriate time to flex on him with your medical knowledge you got from watching some medical show, chill.”

Logan fake coughed “yes umm..” he trailed off before they paid attention to Janus again who looked.. well at a loss for words for one, as he just sat there.

Then after a couple long uncomfortable minutes he spoke up just offering a small “oh,” and shifting uncomfortably “okay” He continued before looking down at his lap and fiddling with his hands, making Logan and Roman look between themselves nervously once again, not knowing if they should leave him be to process the information, though not leaving him in the room by himself, or send him on a task to get his mind off things for the moment so everything won’t be so overwhelming.

After a bit of just letting him sit though they realized leaving him be didn’t seem to be helping any so Logan spoke up, “okay, deceit, I know you got a lot to process but we need to get you washed up to see how severe your injuries are.”

Janus shook his head adamantly, his mood changing almost immediately at the change of topic, the earlier information disappearing from his mind. “no! Baths suck!”

Logan took a breath, trying to consider his counter argument to that before Roman interrupted “they do, but! If you take a nice warm shower or bath you can get off the dried blood, and me and Logan will get you a nice, clean, warm and fluffy pair of pajamas for you to relax in?” Roman negotiated.

Janus was visibly considering it, and after a couple moments made a show of sighing “fine! But if the faucet's water starts turning into blood from a dead body in the sewers I will scream so loud, and I will personally blame you.” He told him seriously. 

Roman couldn't help but chuckle “don’t worry I’m pretty sure that’s really statistically unlikely! I think..” he tried, his reassuring tone becoming more questioning in the last words, 

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “ignore him, he’s not the side to go to for statistics,” he said making Roman gasp in faux-offense, “-but don’t worry, we’re sides so that cannot happen to us as we are fully imagined, err- i promise that their will be no dead bodies in the sewers.”

Janus hummed in consideration of that before simply going “‘kay,” and that was the end of that conversation, after a minute or so roman headed to the bathroom to set up a bath for janus while janus immediately followed him to try his best to sternly tell roman he could do it himself, not that roman listened, only leaving when he was done, happily saluting himself away as janus practically pouted at him.

_____

“Hey specs?”

“Yes Roman?”

“I wonder how Patton, Virgil, and Remus will react to.. This,” he made vague gestures to everything, 

“..I don’t know, on the amnesia side I’m sure Patton would begin doting on him and Virgil would constantly be making sure he didn’t somehow die by not knowing where bread was, or on the other end of the spectrum virgil might try to avoid janus altogether,  but on the Janus being in a child’s mindset because of the amnesia.. I don’t know, I mean we all used to be the best of friends, the four of us, you know, so they would likely get along with him, hell if it wasn’t for the school adults constantly telling the kids that lying is evil and and having darker of an imagination then puppies-” he abruptly cut himself just as he was beginning to rant, though it was still semi obvious to roman that was the reason they stopped being friends with janus. “I don’t know, I’m sorry, those three are The most unpredictable of the six of us, and I don't even have the vaguest idea what remus’s reaction would be.”

Roman nodded “yeah.. though I think regardless, Patton should be the first person we tell, virgil will probably feel anxious about it and if he's the first to be told he might feel like he has to keep it a secret which’ll make him feel more anxious, and again like you said.. We don't know how Remus'll react, though, regardless of who we tell, we should wait till tomorrow, it's late, and Janus literally sobbed today and we still need to check over his wounds, and I'm pretty sure he needs more rest then a nap- so.. tomorrow?”

Logan nodded, knowing even if roman didnt list his reasons he’d of agreed “tomorrow.”

[chaoticpanenergy]

Alright, Sanders Sides fandom (+ Six the Musical fandom). 

I watched this *ahem* neato slime tutorial about Six the Musical and then listened to the soundtrack on Spotify and then overanalyzed the lyrics on genius.com and I have a lot of emotions about this story. So what do I do? I make a Sanders Sides au/analysis for it, obviously, putting WAY too much thought into different interpretations of which side could be which queen. Let’s jump in.

Catherine of Aragon

Catherine in the golden-yellow and black costume. Catherine who knows when she is lied to. Catherine who puts herself first when it comes down to it. Catherine who deals with disrespect but knows her worth anyway. Catherine who “keeps her cool” and stays in control of herself. Catherine must be Janus, lord of the lies, self-preservation, whose calm facade has cracked so rarely.

But then again, Catherine is a leader. Catherine is concerned with loyalty, and what is right and wrong, and that is why she stands up against the divorce—it is wrong of Henry to divorce her, according to her morals. Catherine can swallow her pride, and Catherine seeks a solution to the last, giving Henry so many chances. Catherine handles her situation with grace. Catherine must be Patton, the Hufflepuff, Morality, loving and kind and endlessly forgiving, always trying to do what is right and guide others to do the same.

But then again, Catherine strives to “keep her cool.” To look at things with a level head. She speaks up and reasons with Henry, and in return asks for his own reasoning. She refuses to be made into a joke or looked down upon. Catherine is stubborn and verbose. Catherine must be Logan, the voice of reason, who does his best to keep a handle on his temper and appear as professional as possible, who explains and reasons and is logic above all, who is terrified of being seen as a joke, who is desperate to just be heard for once in his life.

Anne Boleyn

Anne in the green sleeves. Anne who has no filter whatsoever, Anne who says whatever comes into her head. Anne who makes jokes about her own beheading. Anne who says “don’t be bitter/cause I’m fitter/why hasn’t it hit her?/he doesn’t wanna bang you/somebody hang you.” Anne who is “sorry not sorry” about everything she says. Anne who is the most gleeful and up-front about “x-rated” content. Anne whose energy is boundless. Anne who is disliked and cast in a negative light by those around her. Anne must be Remus, the darkly creative, responsible for intrusive thoughts, who would never hide anything going through his head and sees no reason to regret this, the “evil twin.”

But then again, Anne who didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Anne who desperately cries “what was I meant to do?” over and over again as every choice she makes has no good outcome for her. Anne whose comments are more harshly received than she sometimes means. Anne who does not take it well when she comes second to someone else. Anne must be Roman, the ego, stuck in a damned-if-I-do-damned-if-I-don’t situation towards Janus throughout the “Putting Others First” saga, who often lashes out instinctively only to immediately apologize, who strives to be Thomas’s hero.

But then again, Anne whose actions are surprisingly logical from her own point of view. Anne who uses phrases like “obviously” to describe what took place. Anne who gives back tit for tat and no more when she feels disrespected. Anne who is blunt, perhaps more so than is good for her. Anne must be Logan, who always does what makes the most sense to him, who considers what is fair and equal, who can come across as harsher than he means.

Jane Seymour

Jane who is patient. Jane who is steady. Jane who forgives over and over again and makes allowance for behavior she does not deserve to tolerate. Jane whose family is of the utmost importance to her. Jane is overlooked for her kindness and meekness but is so, so strong. Jane who makes puns about her own name. Jane must be Patton, who adores his family, the punster, who is established as the dad friend from day one, who gives and nurtures and forgives endlessly, who is resilient and strong and supportive.

But then again, Jane sticks with the positions she has chosen. Jane who is easily overlooked. Jane who acknowledges the often-sucky realities of life and does not let it bring her down. Jane who is strong as stone and unshakeable. Jane must be Logan, who will not back down, who can be relegated to the sidelines too easily, who is down to earth and who chooses to see the wonder in the ordinary despite all the bad.

But then again, Jane knows she could be rejected at a misstep. Jane who loves, and is loved, but believes that love could “disappear.” Jane who withstands hardships and heartbreak and fear. Jane who uses storm imagery constantly. Jane whose strength and love is akin to stone, something rarely used as a positive metaphor. Jane must be Virgil, who worries he will be rejected for his dark past, who withstood being shunned by those he “lo—cares for” in the past, who is prickly and can cause harm but has grown and matured, who will not be reduced to a single facet of himself even if that makes him more “complicated,” whose logo is a stormcloud.

Anna of Cleves

Anna who is bold. Anna who is unafraid to speak her mind and gets what she wants. Anna whose physical appearance led to her rejection. Anna who is the epitome of “me time” and “self care.” Anna who has no problem being sassy and gives as good as she gets. Anna must be Janus, who advocates for self care and putting oneself first, who is a drama queen, whose sarcasm is off the charts, who has been accused of trickery (sometimes justified, sometimes not), who thrives on attention, whose snake face led to instant distrust from everyone around him, who will go to any length to be heard.

But then again, Anna who demands attention. Anna who gives herself every luxury that occurs to her on a whim. Anna is the only character to openly curse, and gives it a double meaning. Anna who revels in the portrait that caused her rejection and takes pride in it. Anna is the first to make fun of Henry's genitals. Anna must be Remus, who revels in everything he is told not to, who is impulsive and whimsical and unfiltered, who calls Logan a dork and later reveals the inappropriate double meaning, who takes up space unashamedly.

But then again, Anna who constantly reminds us of her royal position. Anna who leans into the queenly activities and possessions. Anna who is flamboyant. Anna who dances when her jam comes on the lute. Anna who rejects criticism of herself. Anna who is “looking cute.” Anna must be Roman, the ego, who put “Flamboyant” by Dorian Electra on his playlist, who is creativity embodied and dances and sings and acts, who “has got to slay,” who reminds us constantly of his princely status.

Katherine Howard

Katherine who comes across at first as flirty and confident only to later reveal that she is insecure because she has only ever been valued for her appearance. Katherine who idealizes and daydreams about someone caring about her for herself and not her looks. Katherine who uses self-confident language to mask her insecurity. Katherine whose language is so flowery and filled with vivid descriptions. Katherine who desperately wants to be approved of and loved. Katherine must be Roman, whose confident facade hides insecurity, who is a hopeless romantic, who is a storyteller, whose language is filled with descriptors and metaphors, who desperately craves approval and validation, who is the romantic side.

But then again, Katherine gives others the benefit of the doubt. Katherine who looks for friends everywhere she goes. Katherine who constantly uses euphemisms and language that might be considered childish. Katherine who is sweet and sincere. Katherine must be Patton, who censors his language and can skirt around topics that are too unpleasant, who forgives and gives second chances, who is kind and soft, who makes friends almost as easily as breathing.

But then again, Katherine who has been let down over and over again. Katherine who tries again and again after every disappointment. Katherine who is anxious to be approved of. Katherine must be Virgil, who dealt with the “scorn” of those he admired for so long, who has persevered through everything, who deals with self-doubt, who always tries again.

But then again, Katherine who thinks she ought to know better, but never does. Katherine who is so, so tired of this same shit every time. Katherine who is too worldly and disillusioned. Katherine who hopes and tries again every time she gets let down. Katherine must be Janus, who put “You’re a Cad” on his playlist, who was rejected time and time again by Thomas and the others but kept trying, who went on a whole ramble about how society is out to get you and the only person you can really trust is yourself.

Catherine Parr

Catherine who brought all the queens together despite their differences and their fights. Catherine who was separated from the person she cared about before eventually reuniting with him. Catherine who uses her voice defiantly because she is tired of being silenced. Catherine who doesn’t need love to get by. Catherine who loves music. Catherine who sometimes loses hope, but keeps going anyway. Catherine must be Virgil, the bridge between “light” and “dark” sides, who cannot be silenced, always listening (to Thomas or to music), who cared about the “light” sides long before he was accepted as part of the group.

But then again, Catherine who prioritizes herself and her own story. Catherine who sings her song “for me.” Catherine who is a little bit cynical about love stories, which we’re normally taught to idealize. Catherine for whom the rules of society are a trap. catherine who demands control over herself. Catherine who rejects the rules of the queens’ competition when they restrict her. Catherine must be Janus, self-preservation and self-care, who feels restricted and endangered by the rules of society, who dismisses Patton’s urge to help those in need with a “yeah, sure, whatever, if that’s your thing,” who pushes Thomas to be true to himself.

But then again, Catherine who “built a future in her mind” with her love. Catherine who loves art in all its forms, and consumes and creates it with abandon. Catherine who wants to tell her story on her own terms after being silenced for so long. Catherine must be Roman, endlessly creative, romantic daydreamer, struggling with balancing his wants with Thomas's needs and feeling silenced because of it.

But then again, Catherine who writes, and is scholarly. Catherine who fights for equality and takes steps within her power to make specific differences. Catherine who champions education for women. Catherine who cannot stand being boxed in and made to be less than she truly is. Catherine who bottles up her rage at the unfairness of it all for as long as she can. Catherine whose feelings are pushed aside. Catherine must be Logan, the teacher, who pushes his emotions aside until he cannot hold them back anymore, who feels like he is not seen for who he is, who cares deeply about things being fair and equitable, who outlines action steps, who always asks more questions.

--

The queens are each multi-faceted characters full of depth—they’re human, gorgeously and heartwrenchingly so. It makes sense that there are multiple Sides that could easily fit into each of their roles, and I haven’t even covered every possible interpretation. There are dozens of possible lineups to come up with here, each that I love to think about. What’s your favorite? I’d love to hear.

[sanders-sides-fics]

In My Dreams: Chapter One

Warnings: past death mentions, dead parents, past violence, Deceit Sanders

Masterlist

Word Count: 1881

Author’s note: Hello! This is the first chapter for my 2020 submission to the ts-storytime big bang! I’m going to be reblogging this post with the link to AO3 shortly. Enjoy!

@007ardra, here’s chapter one!

-

Virgil didn’t know what to expect as they approached the castle. In his mind, he had pictured ruins from the day the Dragon Witch attacked their family. He wasn’t sure why he was expecting that. Logan would have repaired it while he was Regent. It wasn’t exactly something Logan could wait to do until Remy was crowned.

He stared at the window of the carriage at his forgotten childhood home, watching it grow closer and closer. The castle stood proud, whole and without a trace of the disastrous day that stole Virgil and his fathers away from Remy. 

The Picais Castle was different from the castle he grew up in. It was tall with multiple towers shooting up like sprouts out of the ground whereas King Thomas’ castle was broader with less levels, focusing on the expansion of existing floors. 

“Like it?” Remy asked quietly.

Virgil nodded.

Remy smiled, “I sent word ahead of us, so your room should be ready.”

The carriage passed through the castle’s gates and Virgil shifted in his seat. He was finally arriving at the home he lost. Behind the carriage, the castle gates clanged shut and Virgil glanced back. 

“The gates are a security measure I added while Regent,” Logan explained. “With only Remington left of the royal family, I did not see it wise to take chances with his safety.”

“So you do care about me,” Remy teased.

Logan sighed at the young king’s antics. The carriage stopped outside the carriage and Logan opened the door. Virgil watched curiously as the older man surveyed the area. There were some servants and knights in the courtyard, waiting to welcome the royals home, but other than that, Virgil couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Logan must have agreed because he turned and held out his hand to Remy to help him down from the carriage.

Remy took his hand and stepped down from the carriage with practiced grace. Virgil craned his neck to see his brother smiling at their home. When Logan let go of Remy’s hand, he extended it again to offer it to Virgil. The adviser smiled reassuringly and waited for Virgil to be ready. 

Remy grinned as he looked back to Virgil as well, blue eyes bright with joy and anticipation. Virgil met his eyes and tried to smile back, knowing everyone waiting for them expected him to perfectly step into the prince role.

Virgil took Logan’s hand and stepped down carefully from the carriage, trying to ignore the sudden excited murmurs in the courtyard. 

“May I introduce my little brother, Prince Virgil of Picais,” Remy said proudly.

Virgil squirmed but tried to stand up tall as his brother spoke, hoping that it would be over sooner if he did that. He could feel the eyes on him, even as he focused on Remy.

“To celebrate his return to us, there will be a feast tomorrow,” Remy announced. “For my brother to meet the court and welcome him home.”

Virgil’s eyes widened at that. He wasn’t expecting to meet their court so soon, did he even have something nice enough to wear as an honored guest at a feast?

“You are all dismissed to go about your daily activities, thank you,” Remy finished.

Virgil approached his brother quietly, standing by his side as the servants and knights dismissed themselves. Remy smiled at him and took his hand.

“Are you sure I can do this?” Virgil asked. 

Remy nodded, “I think so. I had an outfit prepared for you … and something special waiting in my office.”

Virgil gave him a skeptical look, but Remy dragged him towards the castle instead of giving him an explanation. They entered the castle together and Virgil tried to take it all in before Remy dragged him further inside.

“Where’re we going?” Virgil asked.

“My office! It was Dad’s, we used to play in there all the time while he and Baba tried to work. We never let them get anything done!”

Virgil thought back to his childhood in Sandres and all the times he saw Roman escorted away from King Thomas’ office. Their fathers didn’t do the same it seemed…. He knew it got better when he arrived at the castle and befriended Roman as a child, but it didn’t entirely go away until Roman was nearly a teen.

“They let us do that?”

Remy stopped in front of the office doors, “Of course! They always made time for us. Ready?”

Virgil nodded and Remy opened the door. In the office, there were two dark oak desks. One empty and one neatly organized with papers and inks and quills.

“I saved Baba’s desk,” Remy says. “I wasn’t ready to part with it and decided it matched Dad’s, so I could save it for my own partner one day.”

Virgil looked around the office. Behind Remy’s desk there was a portrait that Virgil couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of. Remy noticed him looking and smiled.

“I didn’t have time after my coronation to have my portrait done before I left for the treaty with King Thomas. Dad had his portrait redone to add the family each time it grew. With Baba, me, and then you.”

In the portrait, King Emile sat on his throne with a young Remy in his lap, smiling as he looked forward. Beside him stood King Dorian holding a small purple bundle in his arms, Virgil could just see the tiny tufts of dark hair sticking out from the bundle.

“Dad loved this portrait. He refused to redo it when we got older. You were … I don’t actually know how old you are here. You were a baby,” Remy explained. “I think I was mad about you being there at first, so tiny and loud… I’m glad you’re here now.”

Virgil believed him. Remy didn’t need to prove he cared for Virgil to understand he did. Almost every action Remy has made since he arrived in Sandres proved how much he cared for his family. Virgil didn’t need to be convinced any further.

“I’m glad too,” he said finally.

Remy smiled and went over to his desk. Beside the pile of papers was a wooden box, which Remy picked up with care.

“I had this polished for you. It was Dad’s when he was Crown Prince.”

Remy set the box back down and opened it with care. He reached into the box and took out a crown. 

“It would mean a lot to me if you wore this, not all the time, I don’t even do that. But at least to events? And around the court?” Remy asks.

Virgil nodded, wide eyes on the crown, “Of course.”

“Can I… put it on your head here?” Remy asked with a strained voice. “I thought you’d want to be crowned privately. Just us.”

Virgil looked away from the crown and to Remy’s face. The King was blinking away tears while he waited for Virgil’s response.

“I’d like that too. Thank you, Remy.” 

Remy smiled and blinked away the last of his tears. He gestured for Virgil to come forward and Virgil stepped towards him and the desk.

“Virgilius, son of King Emile and King Dorian, brother to King Remington. Do you accept this crown and the burdens that come with it?”

“I do?” Virgil replied, unsure of what he should be saying.

Remy gave him a small nod, “Now, kneel so that I may place the crown onto your head.”

Virgil knelt before his brother and tilted his head down to allow Remy to reach. He felt the metal crown gently press down onto the top of his head and looked up when the movement stopped. Remy offered his hand and helped Virgil to his feet. The King smiled softly at him.

“It suits you,” Remy said quietly. “Our Dads would be very proud to see you here.”

“They would?” Virgil asked.

Part of him wondered what the two would think of him now and how he’d changed. He was no longer the little boy they raised. His magic…. He hadn’t used it since the fight with the Dragon Witch. He wasn’t denying who he was, but he didn’t know what to do with it and lacked guidance on how to use it properly. He got lucky he saw King Thomas and was able to push the Dragon Witch towards him. 

However now that he was in Picais, he could search for answers. King Dorian had to have something that survived the Dragon Witch’s first attack. Something that could tell him what to do with his new abilities.

“They would,” Remy confirmed. “Do you want help finding your room? I haven’t seen it yet either and I want to make sure it’s good enough for my brother.”

“I’m sure they did fine,” Virgil told him.

Remy raised an eyebrow, “They’d better have. You deserve the best welcoming home.”

Remy picked up the box for the crown and led Virgil out of the office. They walked down the halls keeping a brisk pace, Remy eager to examine the room to ensure it was to Virgil’s liking. Virgil didn’t think he’d hate what he would find. After growing up in the servants’ quarters, the guest room in King Thomas’ castle was good enough and that was without anything that made the room feel like a home. The room here would eventually fill with those items and be meant for a Prince. If anything, Virgil would think it was too big. 

As they walked, Remy pointed out different rooms in the castle; guest suites, the library, corridors, and finally, Remy’s room and his own. The door to his room was dark wood with a bronze handle.  Remy opened the door and poked his head in first.

“So it’s not a mess. I doubted it would be, but I wasn’t here to oversee it. Want to step in?”

Virgil nodded and stepped around Remy to see his room. His eyes widened at the size of the room. The bed was large and draped in purple blankets. The flooring underneath the bed was a grey carpet that matched the curtains on the windows. As he looked around, he noticed the large wardrobe in the corner and the matching dresser beside it. He wondered if Remy had it filled for him already.

“So purple. A good choice?” Remy asked.

Virgil smiled, “It was…. Was it always my favorite?”

Remy snorted back a laugh, “Virgil. Your purple baby blanket ripped, Baba bought you a blue one to replace it and you threw the biggest tantrum.”

Virgil blushed at that, “I didn’t.”

“You did. I was surprised it didn’t catch fire with how hard you were glaring at it.”

Virgil furrowed his eyebrows, “I thought I didn’t show any signs of magic?”

“Not very many. Just the spiders, but you hated that blanket. Baba had to patch your old one.”

Virgil was glad he didn’t have that specific memory though…. As young as he was when it happened, he likely wouldn’t remember it regardless. He had the feeling Remy would tell him more stories as their time in the castle went on. 

“You should be getting to bed,” Remy told him. “I’ve got a party to plan. Good night, Vee.”

[sagesparrow394]

Six AU

So, some time ago, just after I listened to the Six soundtrack for the first time, I came up with a quick Sanders Sides AU for it. However, I decided why not make a full post explaining how I chose who was who?

So, here, in reverse order is my Six AU!

Logan as Catherine Parr. I feel Logan is almost definitely the one who’ d be like “Why do we have to be defined by romance, especially our relationship with a complete dickhead? This is stupid, I did some awesome things in my life. That’s what I want to be known for.” To be fair, this wasn’t a hard choice, a lot of people who’ve made Six AUs seem to make Logan Parr. He seems to fit the role well.

Roman as Katherine Howard. Like Howard, he was a romantic and wanted to find love. However, he was constantly abused and taken advantage of, leaving him insecure and desperate for validation, leading to him being taken advantage of even more. I feel Howard’s confidence at the start of All You Wanna Do, which declines into fear and insecurity and leads to a breakdown, matches Roman pretty well.

(Small tangent, but it personally confuses me why so many people make Virgil Howard in Six AUs? I mean, the start of her song is literally “I think we can all agree I’m a ten among these threes”. Would Virgil, the self-deprecating anxious mess he is, say that? Their personalities and stories don’t seem to really match to me. I wonder if it’s because of the fandom’s habit of babying him, so they make him the ‘vulnerable young queen’. Not that I’m hating on any of these AUs, everyone has their own opinions, and others’ are just as valid.)

Janus as Anna of Cleves. He just has that confidence, flair and “I don’t give a fuck what you think, I’m great” energy. Also, I like the idea that he has a birthmark on his face that wasn’t visible in his portrait, and Henry used that as the excuse to divorce him. Janus is like “Bitch, I know that ain’t true. But fine, you use it as an excuse, I’m cool being rich and single.”

Patton as Jane Seymour. I feel this doesn’t need too much explaining. He just wanted to get to live and be a father and have a happy family. However, he never got to have that, and he knew that, if he had not had a son, he would have been in just as bad a situation as the others.

Remus as Anne Boleyn. Again, I feel this is self explanatory. He just wanted to fool around with the King and “get X rated”. Has a loud mouth and shit talks people without exactly thinking. And of course, “oH SO YOU CHEATED ON ME, HUH?! SCREW YOU, LETS SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!” is just peak Remus.

Finally, that leaves Virgil as Catherine of Aragon. I mostly placed him here because it was the only character left. But I can see him being that stubborn like Aragon. “Dude, we’ve been married for years, I did nothing wrong, and the church won’t let us divorce. You're stuck with me. Screw you, I’m not letting you stick me in a nunnery. Also, fuck you for cheating on me with that trash rat.”

So, yeah. That’s my Six AU!

[fae-redux]

rules of the game: ch. 5 - my kind’s your kind

Story Summary: 

The Evergreen and Imagi were never quite in peacetime. Roman’s just trying to figure out how to survive and succeed his mother. Logan wants to live long enough to use his magic however he wants. Patton is coasting while repressing everything, still trying to figure out what feelings are. 

Virgil doesn’t want to change the world. 

Luckily, it isn’t up to him.

first | ao3 | prev

Chapter Summary: Dee and Virgil are both of the Evergreen. They don’t already know this.

Word count: 2658

Pairings: future lamp, platonic anxceit

~|~

When he finds Dee sitting innocently at his dining table with nothing but a cup of tea and a saucer in front of him, Virgil knows he knows. 

“Did you know,” Dee starts, not looking up from his tea (Virgil can feel his barely contained glee from where he stands), “that Queen Valerie received quite the surprise this morning?”

He’s smirking like Virgil should already know. “No,” he attempts to shrug casually because it’s not technically a lie, “What surprise?”

“The queen certainly did not acquire a child,” His eyes light up, “And she really didn't get the twin fae child of the one you just cursed, no, she did not.” He laughs and practically spins out of his seat to get a good look at Virgil, effectively cutting off his path to his room. “Why didn’t you invite me on your hunt? We wouldn’t have had any fun together! There’s always something as good as some classic bonding, cursing unsuspecting humans, stealing children, you know!”

Virgil exhales a long breath through his nose, trying to move around the fae. “You are way too excited about this.”

“Well, it’s only what I haven’t wanted for years,” Dee tilts his head forward facetiously, an arm blocking his exit again, “Horrible of you to give me an early birthday present.”

Virgil gives up trying to get to his room and takes the seat Dee vacated, but then his brain catches up with what Dee just said. “Wait, I didn’t curse the kid, I cursed the queen.”

“According to the Seelie that just came from the outskirts, you definitely did not get the kid, and your magic is super stable,” Dee shrugs, moving his cup to the sink, practically fluttering his hands in joy. “The kid’s a bad mark, and if he grows up anything like his mother, you’ll be sorry you did it.”

Virgil looks at Dee, who is still grinning, genuinely ecstatic for the first time since Virgil’s met him, and thinks, maybe this isn’t the worst thing. If the queen does raise the child herself, he doesn’t have that much hope for the kid, and with King Cromwell under her thumb, it’s unlikely the kid will know what life outside the citadel looks like.

“I can see it now,” He says. The deal is composed of a thick cord that holds strong. Even tugging on it now, he feels the prince, crying alone in a nursery, and can’t believe he didn’t feel it before, “I should probably break it.” 

“Sure, if you don’t want the death of a child on your hands. Magic doesn’t come with backlash.” Dee raises an eyebrow, and he hastily takes his hand back from the rope. “Besides there have been plenty of instinctive magic curses in fae history. It’s not like we don’t have the theory to even begin going about breaking it without killing you or the kid.”

He shakes his head and resolves to ignore the thing.

Dee is happy. It’s a shame, Virgil thinks. If what Virgil can recall about what he said is right, the young prince has twenty years to live, and nothing he does will affect the curse or change its course. It’s all up to Adelaide. 

He doesn’t dwell on the seed of guilt that starts to grow in his stomach. 

He doesn’t.

~|~

As much as he likes to focus on his misfortune, Virgil knows that when he can’t fix all his problems, it’s best to start with the ones he can handle. 

The thing is, Dee’s right. His magic is unstable in that he doesn’t know what he already did with it or how to use it, and if he can’t learn to put some sort of a leash on it, he’ll be reliant on Dee forever, which isn’t ideal. 

On the bright side, Dee seems delighted by the turn of events that is Virgil asking for magic lessons. They’ve started to learn to live with each other in the past couple weeks, Dee accommodating Virgil and teaching him how to do things around the estate, and Virgil carefully staying out of the way of Dee’s clients. This really is an extension of their preexisting lessons.

Dee starts them off by trying to figure out what sort of fae Virgil is. It would be going better if the only things he could talk about weren’t the way the plants lead him to Dee’s hide-away home in the Evergreen and the whole “curse” incident. 

“How did you get away from a full ballroom of knights and iron? The queen wouldn’t have been extra careful with the presence of a child,”  Dee has about seven books open trying to figure out what Virgil’s fae history is made of. 

He shrugs, letting his shoulders slump in a little more, taking another bite of his food and ducking behind his bowl a little as Dee tosses another book to the side. “I heard the sound of breaking glass behind me? It sounded like your illusion breaking that first night we met, so I assume it was some kind of illusion magic. I just remember thinking I didn’t want them to see me leave. Illusions and plant-based magic are two very different things, though, so I don’t really understand how I would have both.”

Dee snorts, putting his own bowl down. “Even for a novice, you’ve got a horrible understanding of magic.” He brushes through his history of plant fae grimoire while frequently glancing from Virgil to the book. He turns the book so Virgil can see, “Match?”

Virgil looks at the portrait in the book of a fae with a wide face and a stubby nose and shakes his head. “I read a lot in the castle so I know a lot about magic. My mother’s collection told me about fae magic, but Adelaide’s collections taught me other kinds of magic. I moved most of her spellbooks and grimoires to my room, so even if the queen decides to go book burning, those would probably be safe. She probably doesn’t remember that I used to live in the west tower.”

The ache that comes with thinking about his old home isn’t new but he almost wishes the bittersweet feeling would go away. The castle always used to have the best view of the sunset and the most wonderful view of the full moon in the sky. Jam tarts were always a bonus too, especially when they got the ones with the special red jam. Those were things that made it really feel like home.

Dee turns the book around again. “This one?” 

Virgil stops thinking about the castle. 

The portrait shows an eager lady with sharp ears and elongated incisors and long silver blonde hair, about to pounce off the page. Her grin looks the same as his mother’s did before she hatched a plan to get them both in trouble. The manor staff used to hate that smile. 

“That one,” he swallows down and clenches his fists to hold back the tremors he feels coming on, but it just sends sharp stings of pain through his palms. No one had told him about being part fae. No one even suggested it before Dee. If the queen knew, she surely wouldn’t have allowed Romulus to take him in. “Well, we know why about the plants now, though I’m not really sure how diluted my ancestry is,” He fiddles with the sleeves of his hoodie, and the hollow feeling in his chest persists. Enough fae blood to be fully realized by a deal gone awry, but not enough to affect him for the first 17 years of his human lived life. 

Dee waves a hand and begins to put books away. “The real problem is that we know exactly why you have illusion powers like me,” The muttering increases as Virgil just sits at the table, head leaning against his palm watching as Dee pulls random books out at will, only to look through two or three pages and return them to the shelf. “Your existence as a fae makes complete sense.”

Today has already been too much, but at the very least they have a hint. “Thanks,” he replies dryly. “It’s not as though anyone told me there was a fae in my family tree somewhere. I would go back and look for the documentation if it didn’t mean getting captured and tortured for eternity for daring Adelaide.”

The scowl on Dee’s face makes him use an arm to cover the lower half of his face and stifle his snicker. 

“Yes, you could go back, and all my hard work, gone, just like that?” The sarcasm is evident in his voice, as he shoots his judgmental gaze towards Virgil, “Stunning idea.”

“Nah, I think you like me too much to let me do that anyways,” Virgil openly smiles at the fae as he huffs and returns his attention to the shelves. “You do.”

“If the universe had not given you to me as a gift,” The light from the window glances off his yellow scales, making them glow, “You wouldn’t be dead right now. You would do well not to remember that.”

“Yeah,” Virgil rounds the table and plucks Dee’s bowl from where it sits, heading to the sink, “You like me.”

He doesn’t interrupt him, lets the grumbles fill the air, the only noises Dee can make without outright lying or telling the truth in the way he does.

Dee is a lot easier to understand than whatever the queen had going on, and they got on fairly well. Virgil doesn’t think it would be the worst thing to stick around for a while. 

~|~

Watching Dee set up his tools for their first illusions lessons shouldn’t be as funny as it is. He left early that morning after breakfast with a cementing potion, tubes of sticking potion, and a basket of things he hadn’t let Virgil peak at.

When he’s finally allowed outside, he sees the monstrosities that Dee made in all their glory. There are trinkets of every sort pulled together from various places in the house that appear to be fashioned together into odd amalgamations. One is made up completely of porcelain doll legs in the shape of a duck and another is made up of small duck statues that have been organized into the shape of a person.

Ridiculous sculptures aside, Dee’s efforts come with a long lecture that Virgil only manages to absorb parts of. 

“These won’t do for now, but the basis of this is you needn’t be able to maintain the same image in your head as the one you want to project as an illusion. It’s not like making the image in your head and turning it out of your brain to appear in the real world. Make sense?” Dee is looking very intently at the ducks while Julep watches amused from the sidelines.

Virgil frowns. “Is the correct answer yes?” He stares at the sculptures as if they will help him figure it out. “Because no.”

Sighing, Dee points at one of the ruinous creations, “When you look at that, what are you thinking about?” 

“I’m thinking about how weird it is that you own enough dolls to make a large duck out of their legs and how fucking weird you are for doing this. Why, what’s the point?”

He looks like he’s going to facepalm in a very undignified way for a moment. “Can you think of anything else besides the thing you’re looking at?”

Blinking at the creation, he thinks for a moment. How could anyone who had that in front of them not think about it? Then it hits him. That’s why he made these insane things. “You’re trying to improve my concentration on what I want the actual illusion to be.”

“You mustn't hold your concentration, or this won’t work. Try to focus on the statues, not an open field with flowers. Anything not like that.”

From where he sits with his eyes closed, he can feel the grass pulling up between his fingers and in the breeze. Imagining an empty field, he tries to picture what he thought of being in front of him. After a full minute of intense focus, he peeks one eye open, and Dee just waits, not saying anything. Nothing happened.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing,” He huffs, frustrated. He picks the dirt and grass out from under his nails, a wrinkle in his brow. “Turn the image, what does that even mean?”

“Don’t picture it in your head first,” Dee sits next to him and puts down the dangling chicken bone mobile he created. His back is straight and he rests his palms facing up on his knees. “Don’t take a deep breath, and forget to concentrate.” He moves his hands to the ground in front of him, “Now, don’t shift the image, like it's on a wheel from your mind, in front of your eyes.” 

Virgil watches as between blinks, the things vanish from sight. He raises a hand to tap the illusion, then hesitates and looks to Dee for permission. 

“Please don’t touch, it’s just so fragile,” Dee smirks and examines his nails. 

The tap sounds exactly like tapping a glass of water or on a window. A bright sound rings out, but the illusion doesn’t break. More confident now, Virgil knocks on the glass, and the prairie scene stays playing in front of him. 

“Honey, you’re gonna have to try softer than that to break it,” Dee picks up the shovel he brought with him to build his structures. “Watch and don’t learn a thing!” The fae laughs as he swings it full force at the illusion, spinning with the momentum of the turn. 

The sound of breaking glass echoes through the field with his laughter, and Virgil can’t help his flinch, looking away so his eyes don't get hit with any of the glass. Nothing that comes his way feels like it hits him. In fact, the bits that do appear to hit him just vanish on impact. Curious, he runs his fingers along the edge of a piece that landed near him and startles as it melts into nothing the second he would have made contact with it. 

Behind the illusion, a single duck falls off its structure from the hit of the shovel, but otherwise, the creations are unharmed by Dee’s magic. 

“Illusions are weak until they are broken. You won’t learn in your own time,” Dee looks disappointed at the duck that fell off and tucks it in his pocket, though what for Virgil doesn’t know. “Not your turn!”

Virgil looks at the spot Dee had put his hand down and takes a deep breath, just like Dee told him. It’s hard not thinking about the statues in the yard, but he manages to make some sort of image in his head of an empty field. The wheel behind his eyes pulls the image over the image of the current field.

The turn feels strange but there’s something there. It leaks into his arms as he tries to put the image in front of him, and it feels like water running over his arms, uncomfortably smooth. He blinks his eyes open, and he’s completely dry, but he’s looking at an empty field. Well, a version of an empty field, anyways.

Dee clicks his tongue happily. The illusion is clearly the wrong time of day, the black of a night sky curling at the edges with sunlight, and as Dee flicks it with two fingers, it shatters. “For a first try, terrible.” It’s silly, but Dee grins just like Thomas would when he scored well on his chemistry assessments. “Now don’t do it again.”

Virgil puts his hands to the ground more confidently. He can do this however many times it takes to get it right.

[notveryglittery]

all the way home i’ll be warm

summary: 'tis the season for spending time with your loved ones! for some mischievous college kids and their "unfortunate" dads, that happens in more ways than one. ships: romantic roceit, romantic moxiety. siblings logicality, brotherly thvi. familial morolo, familial remceit.  wc: 6.8k / warnings: sympathetic deceit, food mentions, flying mention, two characters locked in a room together. author’s note: participated in @sanderssantas as a pinch hitter and got to write some lovely wishes for @max-is-tired!! it was a lot of fun and not gonna lie, i kinda want to write a moxiety prequel to it now LMAO. anyway, happy belated holidays!!

read on ao3 | @fandersfic-roceit @fandersfic-moxiety​

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“Did your disaster of a dad sweep the librarian off his feet yet?”

Patton sighed and rested his cheek on the palm of his hand. It made his face sort of squished and extra cute. Virgil wished they were having this conversation directly so that he could be the one squishing Patton’s face with his hands. 

“Nope! Vee, I swear, they’re worse than we were.” 

“That’s really saying something,” Virgil said. 

“Do you want to hear something impressive?” 

“Anything you say is impressive.”

Patton giggled. “Oh hush, that doesn’t even make sense.”

Virgil shrugged helplessly. “Nothing in this world does, babe, but you sure help make it easier to deal with.” 

Patton was turning properly red now and Virgil made a mental note to thank Picani again for the suggestions when he’d expressed wanting to buy a new phone. The camera quality on this one made video calling with Patton even better. 

“I said hush!” Patton squeaked. “We’re moving on!” 

Virgil just smiled back innocently. “Well, what impressive thing do you have to share?”

“Logan hasn’t gone a single day without complaining.” 

That was, actually, pretty impressive. 

“Logan? Complaining?”

Patton nodded.

“Never has anything to say about you always mentioning that you’re fifteen minutes older-Logan? Has aced literally every final he’s ever taken without a single whine-Logan? Can sit in traffic for hours and not protest once-Logan?” 

Patton nodded, fervently. “I know!”

“Explain,” Virgil demanded, feeling very much like he’d just been deposited into an alternate universe.

“Well, you know how he had a secret sweetheart for, like, ever and we only found out on accident, right?”

“Right.”

“He says Dad’s being ridiculous for pining for so long! Apparently, in the time it took for Logan and his lover to get their feelings sorted out, Dad had only just got Dev’s phone number.” 

“You’re having fun with alliteration,” Virgil mused, before continuing. “That…” He paused to process. “Pat, they’re not just worse than us, they’re like… the worst in existence.” 

“I don’t know how they do it,” Patton moaned, tilting his head back. 

“At this rate, I’m going to visit over break just so that I can lock them in a closet together.”

“And that’s the only reason for you to visit, hmm?” 

“Of course,” Virgil answered, solemnly, “not like I got my act together and have a handsome boyfriend that I’d like to spend 7 Minutes in Heaven with, or anything.” 

“Virgil!” Patton exclaimed, nearly screeching. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m hanging up on you now,” Patton threatened. 

“You’re impossible to fluster in person. When else am I supposed to snipe you?” 

“I’m confiscating the love gun!” 

“It’s cute how you think that’ll stop me,” Virgil said, delighting in the way Patton was still pouting.

“Good night!” 

And with that, the call ended. 

Virgil laughed, switching to their text thread without missing a beat. 

stormcloud: love you lots. hope your dreams are as happy as you make me. sunshine: i love u too, u bully, good night!!!!!!!! >:(  sunshine: … sunshine: 💜💙💜💙

—  

“Operation Matchmaker is a go!”

“I am making the executive decision to reject that name immediately.” 

“Vetoed.” 

“On what grounds?”

“I was born first.” 

“By fifteen minutes, that hardly counts.” 

“It does, too! It counts fifteen whole times.”

“You realize how little sense that makes, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m older!”

“That is not how this works—” 

“What are we debating this time, kids?” Roman interrupted, arriving before a full blown argument could start.

“Dad!” The twins chorused, one far more enthusiastic than the other. Then again, one of them had been complaining for the last two weeks of his father’s oblivious pining. 

“Patton and I were wondering if you wouldn’t mind driving us today, since you haven’t got anything planned?” 

“And just how do you know I’m not busy? I could have many dragons to slay!”

“And princes to swoon over,” Patton mumbled. 

Logan elbowed his sibling in the side. “It would be quite efficient to take just the one car out instead of both. However, we all know how much I dislike driving in the snow, and I don’t trust Patton behind the wheel when I know Virgil could call at any moment.”

“Hey!” 

“Good point.”

“Hey!”

“And if we leave now, we’ll beat rush hour traffic and be home in time before nightfall.”

“Alright, fine, as long as we’re all good with stopping to get takeout for dinner.”

“That is agreeable.”

“Perfect!” 

The trio separated to get their things together. Roman had still been in his pajamas when he happened upon Logan and Patton at the dining table. 

They had seemed suspiciously like they were scheming but given it was nearing Christmas, it was safe to assume they were just figuring out gifts. He’d taken care of presents for everyone last month, including Patton’s aforementioned boyfriend. That one had been fun to plan and if everything else went up in flames (as the holidays were sometimes wont to do), he knew that this, at least, would be well worth the work. 

Figuring the pair only had a few quick errands to run and that all they’d really expect of him was to keep the car running and warm, Roman went with dressing down for the day. He bundled up in crown patterned sweatpants, a maroon turtleneck, and a black beanie. His hair would not see the light of this day, thank you very much. 

“You look comfy!” Patton chirped as they regrouped at the entryway. Their pink pronoun necklace matched the earmuffs and gloves they were wearing; in fact, Patton seemed to have decided on more of a pastel aesthetic than normal today, what with the rest of their outfit in complementary soft shades. 

Logan, on the other hand, had gone with his usual and was covered head to toe in navy and black. “Indeed. Do you intend to join us at all or will you be taking self portraits in the car?” 

“Ha ha,” Roman deadpanned, shooing his kids outside and locking the door as they left the house.

It wasn’t until they were settled and on the road that Roman thought to actually ask what the plans were.

“What’s on the agenda, then? Gifts? Missing ingredients for cookies? Dropping anything off at Goodwill?” He hadn’t missed the fact that they both had bags, and that they seemed rather full. 

“All of the above, actually,” Patton piped up from the backseat. “I wanna donate some of my old plushies and Lo’s got some books he doesn’t need anymore.” 

“Patton is in need of vanilla extract and food coloring. I wonder how we could possibly be out.” 

“If I don’t make red velvet French toast every morning during holiday break, then what's the point of you being home from college?” Roman asked. 

“Quality time spent together, a reprieve from coursework—” 

“There is no point!” Patton interrupted. “It’s the best part about being back!” 

“Patton, there is no ‘being back’ for you seeing as you do not even live in the dorms. Theoretically, you could have red velvet French toast every morning, regardless of the time of year.” 

An offended gasp from his father made sense but to hear it from Patton as well surprised him. 

“Blasphemy!” Patton cried. 

“The disrespect!” Roman exclaimed. 

“That breakfast is tradition, Lo! We’d never have it without you,” Patton promised, clasping Logan’s shoulder and squeezing. 

“Thank you,” he responded, voice dripping with sarcasm, “that truly eases my concerns. I was so worried.” 

With the streets empty as they were, getting to and from locations took no time at all. Sure enough, Roman waited in the car while Patton and Logan stopped in at the grocery store. 

This hadn’t been part of their plan but it was better this way; originally, one would have had to distract him while the other worked. Logan emptied the contents of his backpack, old plastic bags to be recycled, to make room for the pre-ordered bouquet of flowers from the floral department. 

“It’s lovely,” Patton gushed to the seasonal employee. “We’re finally gonna get dad to confess his feelings to Dev. It’s been years in the making, they’re both just so clueless. Not that that’s a bad thing!” They hurried to correct while Logan muttered “It really is,” under his breath.

“I think it’s real sweet what you kids are doin’ for your pa,” Valerie said sincerely. “Roman’s been a blessing since I moved out here. I swear, the number of times he’s sighed wistfully during our Disney movie marathons while thinking about that man… I bet the whole town’s rooting for them.” 

“It’s a miracle the whole town hasn’t lost their collective mind waiting for one of them to make a move.” 

“Logan!” Patton scolded despite looking delighted over their brother being so exasperated that he could hardly be bothered anymore to resist roasting their hopeless father and his crush. 

“Well, keep me up to date, won’t you?” Valerie requested, shoving another handful of ribbon into Logan’s bag. 

“You bet!” 

With the flowers and groceries, not forgotten thanks to Logan, safely secured, they were on to their next stop. Roman denied any teasing of having picked just the right parking spot for prime selfie lighting (not that any of them would have been posted anyway, given his casual look today).  

True to their word, Patton stopped in at the local Goodwill and emptied their backpack of stuffed toys and books. If they stopped by the counter to buy something they’d begged be held for them earlier that week, well… 

“Darlin’, I dunno how y’all are gonna pull this off.” 

“Oh, ye of little faith!” Patton said, running their hands through the purchased scarf to check for any snags or loose threads. “I think I know enough about romance to make it work.” 

The snap of Remy’s bubblegum startled Patton into peering up at him. 

“You’re joking, right?” 

When Patton didn’t answer, Remy reached up and took his sunglasses off. He pointed them right at Patton’s nose, who went slightly cross-eyed trying to focus. “Babes, tell me you’re pullin’ my leg.” 

“I’m not!”

“Oh, bless your heart,” Remy cooed, smiling as he perched the eyewear on top of his head. “Honey, romance could be painted on the broad sign of a barn and you’d still miss it.” 

“Uhm, hello? Virgil?” Patton replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Planned the cutest prom-posal in the history of prom-posals despite his anxiety after you mistook your first three dates as him trying to get to know Logan better through you.” 

“Listen—”

“Yeah? To you yelling at me over the phone about whether or not Virgil kissing you meant he liked you or like-liked you?”

“Remy!” Patton whined.

“I’m just sayin’, sweetie,” Remy relented, “It’s a good thing Logan’s helping.” 

Patton huffed, shoving their receipt into the bag. “You’ll still meet us there? You’re kinda important to this going right.” 

“Only kinda?” Remy rolled his eyes. “I take offense to that. But yeah, I’ll be there.” 

Patton bounced a couple times on their feet, leaning across the counter. Remy couldn’t help grinning as he pressed his lips against their forehead. 

“You’ll grow out of that someday.”

“Never!” Patton crowed, backing up and towards the exit. “See you later!”

Patton returned to the car and startled Roman by opening the driver side door. 

“I’m afraid we might’ve been a bit dishonest with you,” Logan said, only barely managing to cover smug with sheepish.

“Out, daddio! I’m driving us to the last stop and you get to be blindfolded for it!”  Patton exclaimed, bright and mischievous.

“The betrayal,” Roman cried, unbuckling his seat belt. “And so soon before Christmas, too. Whatever are you surprising me with?” 

After some poking and prodding at Patton’s ticklish spots and Patton yanking Roman’s beanie down further over his eyes, they were off. Roman didn’t stop griping the entire way. Logan kept the banter going, texting Remy all the while to make sure everything was going according to plan. 

 —

“I’m here, you’re welcome,” Remy called into the break room very obviously marked Employees Only.

“I’ll only be thankful if you brought lunch,” the pile of blankets on the couch replied, muffled.

“Hot soup, hot cocoa, hot tea.”

“Last one’s literal or figurative?” 

“Guess you won’t know ‘til you shed.” 

“Uuugh.” 

The voice groaned the entire length of shrugging the blankets off until they were all gathered around his waist and over his legs. 

“Ah, there he is! Dearest dad emerges from his cocoon.” 

Devereux glared at his son as Remy crossed the room and set a plastic bag down on the table. 

“All I do for you, just to be relentlessly tormented by your sass.”

“I learned from the best,” Remy said seriously, setting up a series of thermoses and tupperware. 

“Suck-up.” 

The moment Remy was sat beside him, Devereux was ruffling a hand through his hair, tousling the oh-so-meticulously-taken-care-of locks. Remy shouted in outrage, batting his dad’s hand away and scooting to the other end of the couch. 

“All I do for you!”

It took nearly a minute of the two glaring at each other, waiting for one to make the next move. When Devereux’s stomach growled noisily, the stalemate ended. Remy smirked. 

“Truce?” He offered.

“... Truce.” 

They reached for the table at the same time, picking their own containers. Remy grabbed a thermos, no doubt filled with hot coffee. Devereux chose a microwavable bowl and a spoon, cradling it carefully to his chest. Silence followed for awhile longer while Remy texted with one hand and Devereux stared out the window as he ate, scowling slightly when snowflakes started drifting slowly into view. 

“A shame I won’t get home tonight,” he grumbled, glaring into his soup. 

“And why’s that?” Remy asked distractedly.

“The weather. Too cold. If only you’d look up from your phone and—” 

“Okay, boomer.” 

“I hate you.”

“I’m telling mom.” 

“Who’s she? Never heard of her.”

Remy took an extra loud sip from his drink, maintaining direct eye contact with his dad as he did so.

“I’m sending you to boarding school. Far, far away. You’ll live with your grandparents.”

“No, not the Witch and the Critic,” Remy hissed, actually suddenly nervous. 

“They really aren’t that bad,” Devereux said, doing a terrible job of hiding his self-satisfied grin. 

“I had to sneak my caffeine in!” 

“It would’ve canceled out Grandma’s sleeping spells.”

“Stop that!” Remy shrieked at the same moment his phone started ringing. He glanced at the screen and then back up. “You’re lucky I love you even when you’re being this mean to me.” 

Answering the call, Remy set his thermos back on the table and stood up from the couch. “Y’all make it safe?” 

Devereux tuned the conversation out as he put his soup down and worked on getting out of his blanket nest. He cleaned up as Remy chatted, thinking about everything that needed to be done before the day was over. Did the grind ever stop? Not that he’d change anything; Remy was the best thing that happened to him, and while the nightmares had seemed unending at the time, life nowadays was a dream come true in comparison. Sure, there was one unattainable fantasy that would be the cherry on top, but he’d learned not to get his hopes up anymore. 

“Got something to show you,” Remy said and Devereux supposed he could put up with whatever nonsense was to follow since Remy had brought him lunch. 

They headed out into the library, which was relatively empty since school was out for the holidays. That didn’t change the fact that some families simply couldn't handle being cramped in the same house together for long periods of time. Devereux saw all sorts come through for a reprieve from the stress: teenagers with headphones blaring music loud enough that even he could hear it, parents with tense shoulders that appeared worn out no matter the hour, students visiting home that felt out of place after being away, now in need of a break from their discomfort. 

Devereux followed Remy to the private study rooms. These were ideal, usually, for finding some peace and quiet, but he had a feeling some sort of havoc was inevitable. 

“Eyes closed!” Remy exclaimed suddenly, pivoting. He practically resembled the Cheshire cat. 

They had paused in front of room five. The lights were on and the blinds pulled but Devereux could see shadows moving through the slats. 

“Might as well get it over with,” he muttered sarcastically, doing as requested. 

Several things happened in the next moment. 

Remy knocked once on the door and it creaked open. A hand took Devereux’s wrist and yanked him forward, presumably into the room. He collided into something sturdy, though the sound of crinkling plastic sounded less so. Someone erupted into giggles, another muttered “finally,” and then the door slammed shut, and the lock clicked. 

“Oh,” squeaked the voice of whoever it was holding Devereux up from falling backwards. 

(‘Whoever,’ we say, as if Devereux wasn’t achingly familiar with this voice.) 

His eyes flew open and he resisted yelping in alarm. Just so. Roman was stood in front of him, dressed in loungewear, and holding a bouquet of flowers. He was rapidly turning red and he seemed about as confused as Devereux felt. This wouldn’t last long, it never did with the two of them, but it was really just a matter of who would snap out of it first. 

“You look exquisite,” Devereux murmured finally, pulling back from Roman just enough that he could brush a hand along his forearm. “As if you’ve just gotten out of bed and yet… still so effortlessly handsome.” 

“I can only imagine how divine it’d be to lay with you,” Roman responded smoothly, “though there’s not been created a material that could match your warmth.” 

A pause, both realizing what they’d just said. 

“Flowers!” Roman exclaimed suddenly, voice cracking, as he stepped away, and thrust the bundle towards Devereux. 

“Wonderful,” he coughed, holding them gently, and admiring the colors. “Not nearly as lovely as you, of course, though one could search the ends of the Earth and still nothing would compare.”

“Why, Devereux,” Roman purred, “it sounds almost like you’re calling me the prettiest thing on the planet—” 

“Aren’t you?” 

“— when in fact, your beauty outmatches that beyond this world. I’d choose still to gaze into your eyes, reminiscent of sweet honey crystallized, even if offered a glittering sea of endless diamond skies.” 

… Was it getting hot in this room? Roman looked exceedingly pleased with himself and Devereux cursed the competitive, theatrical streak they shared. There would be no moving from this spot if they continued like this… Not that he had a problem with it. Roman truly was a vision: hair tousled (Devereux could only imagine combing his fingers through the tangled locks), cheeks rosy (what he’d give to cause that blush daily), lips curved in satisfaction (oh, how he’d love to kiss that grin right off his face). 

The same moment Devereux glanced upwards, Roman’s gaze flickered down. 

‘Interesting,’ thought Devereux, taking note of the little sprig of green pinned to the ceiling.

Their eyes met again, their smiles melting into something softer, more sincere. 

“Our kids will be the death of us,” Roman muttered with a resigned sigh. 

“Our?” Devereux echoed. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Oh,” Roman managed, breathlessly. 

Keeping the flowers tucked in the elbow of one arm, Devereux reached forward with his free hand and rested his palm flat against Roman’s chest. His heart was racing. They had that in common. 

It was imperceptible, trying to figure out who leaned closer first. The kiss was hesitant to start, years of yearning and pent up passion and fragile feelings. Once the realization hit, that the pining was mutual, that they both wanted this, that they both had been wanting this… 

Well, it was a good thing the window to study room five was shuttered. 

 —

“Vee, it went perfectly!” Patton screamed into the receiver. 

“Uh, yeah, I sure hope it did,” Virgil answered, shifting so that his cellphone stayed firmly between his ear and shoulder, despite Patton’s volume, “given how long they’ve been flirting for.” 

Patton went on, gushing about how he and Logan had successfully tricked their dad into driving them to his own trap; how Remy had been instrumental in bribing Devereux with lunch; how they’d unlocked the room to find the pair slow dancing to music playing on Roman’s phone— “A Thousand Years,” covered by Boyce Avenue, they’d discover later. 

Had Virgil not been so busy with finals, he surely would have heard the story sooner; it had been just under a week since the set-up and, apparently, Roman and Devereux were, somehow, even more sickeningly affectionate than before.

Not that Virgil would have any room to talk in… He glanced at his watch. The nerves over his flight were replaced quickly by the excited anticipation about seeing Patton in three hours. 

“Sweetie?”

“I love you,” Virgil exclaimed suddenly, “just… so much.” 

Patton squealed. “Ahh!! I love you too!!” 

“Good. That’s… I’m glad. Hey, I gotta email a couple of professors. Talk later?” 

“Of course!” 

‘Sooner and closer than you think,’ Virgil mused, smiling at his lock screen photo after the call ended. They’d been going through his closet for spring cleaning and despite the silliness at the time, something about seeing Patton wearing his clothes warmed him all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. 

Virgil let his mind wander as he headed through security and to his gate, wondering just what he’d do during his two weeks back home. Attending college a state over was miserable to start but he’d been grateful there’d been one still relatively close, at least, with his stupidly specific major. He hadn’t been able to visit during Fall break and so it’d been an agonizing five months since he’d last hugged Patton, last held his hand, last— okay Virgil calm down before the touch starvation rears its ugly head. 

Boarding, thankfully, took no time at all, since it was a smaller flight. The weather stayed mercifully clear and landing went off without a hitch. Grateful that he’d only needed to bring a carry-on and his backpack, he headed passed baggage claim and right for the pick-up zone outside. He was checking his phone to see where Thomas was parked when a body slammed into him from the side. Before he could panic about being attacked or robbed, his brother’s voice was rambling a mile a minute. 

“I literally have so much to tell you, I cannot believe how much has happened since you were here last, and look!” Thomas exclaimed, shoving his phone into Virgil’s face. It was a picture of a kitten he didn’t recognize which meant Thomas had adopted another pet. Virgil gave Thomas a deadpan stare as he rattled off all the reasons he’d definitely needed a new cat. 

He threw an arm over Virgil’s shoulders and led the way to the car, still gesturing excitedly as he went on about everything that had happened in Virgil’s absence. Apparently, Halloween had seen a jack-o’-lantern carving contest that was all for naught when Remy and Patton switched pumpkins, Logan’s boyfriend got a little knife happy with the picnic table, and Devereux realized halfway through his design that it was too humiliating for anyone else to see and had promptly threw the entire thing against a tree. 

“Was it Roman’s face?” Virgil asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Joan swears it was but you know them,” Thomas responded. 

“Agent of chaos,” Virgil agreed. 

Thanksgiving was the same as each year: Roman and the twins, Devereux and Remy, Valerie, Leo, Joan, Talyn, Terrence, Kenny, and Thomas all gathered at the local theatre. Even if any of them did have a house big enough to host a large group, the theatre held so much weight in all of their lives, and felt like the best place to express all the things they were grateful for— namely, each other. They made sure to leave the stage as clean as at the start of dinner, taking care to not leave any stains or scuffs by laying the floor with a plastic tarp. It took a bit of extra work, everyone having to transport their food, but the following games of charades and group improv made it all worth it. 

Virgil swore to himself he’d never miss another one again, college be damned. 

“No offense to Roman but the twins really got him good,” Thomas was saying as he merged onto the freeway. “They left Goodwill and just drove in circles until Remy let them know he’d made it to the library.” 

“The fact that neither of those disaster idiots had even a clue as to what their kids were planning is…” Virgil gestured broadly, as if he could pluck the word out of thin air, “ridiculous.” 

“But not unbelievable!” Thomas added. “I think they get blinded by the gay.” 

“Yeah, you’re one to talk,” Virgil began but Thomas was slamming the button on the console to turn on the radio, drowning out whatever his brother was planning on saying next. 

Virgil just settled into his seat, whistling innocently as Thomas’s face went bright red and Straight No Chaser sang through “The 12 Days of Christmas.”

Making it to the Sanders household took longer than Virgil would have liked but it was three days before Christmas and people were out and about for their last minute shopping. It didn’t help that it had snowed heavily the night before and so traffic was slow moving with everyone driving so carefully. 

Still, they arrived before Patton got home, which was the important part. Roman was standing on the porch, waving excitedly as Thomas pulled into the driveway. Virgil glared at the second parked car, recognizing it as Devereux’s, and prayed that Roman didn’t actually have company over. Patton’s surprise was supposed to be known by as few people as possible and the gossip in this town spread fast. 

“Welcome home!” Roman exclaimed, yanking Virgil into a hug as soon as he was within arm’s reach.

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil said back, voice muffled as his face was pressed against Roman’s shoulder. “I’m happy to see you too, don’t get me wrong—” 

“I know,” Roman sighed, dramatically, relenting as he let Virgil go and ushered them in from the cold. “I’m not the one you want to be squished by.” 

“Shut up!” Virgil spluttered, swatting at Roman as if that would wipe the amused look off his face. 

“Oh, there he is!” 

Virgil was accosted the next moment. His face was met this time with a leather jacket and all he did in response was groan. Remy eased back but not before gently tugging once on Virgil’s earlobe and then tapping his nose. 

“We are way too old for that,” Virgil complained, scowling. 

It lasted all of three seconds before he caved, kicking out to tap the tip of his shoe against Remy’s ankle. 

“I still stand by that being a stupid handshake,” Devereux said, appearing out of nowhere just as suddenly as his son had. 

“Well good thing it’s not a handshake then, huh?” Virgil replied. However, it went mostly unheard as Roman stole Devereux’s attention at the same time, as if they literally hadn’t just been in the kitchen together three minutes ago. 

“I hate this already,” Virgil said, taking his phone from his pocket, hoping for a text from Logan to distract him. 

Sure enough, the younger of the twins had sent a photo of Patton at the candy store, eyeing a display case filled with fudge. His pronoun necklace stood out against the white of his sweater and matched the violet beanie pulled over his curls… the same one Virgil had left with him the day he had gone off to college. His heart swelled and if he’d been paying any attention, he’d have noticed the picture Remy snuck of him and the absolutely smitten smile on his face. 

Thomas clapped his hands, snapping Virgil out of it. “Okay, I’m gonna drive home. Roe’s gonna follow and then bring us back over here. Doesn’t make any sense for me to be hanging out but, not gonna lie, I think the twins would be sus if Roe wasn’t here.” 

“Hey!” Roman protested. 

“No offense, darling, but he’s not wrong,” Devereux said, smirking. 

At Roman’s put out expression, Devereux pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

Remy and Virgil were staring at each other as if they were each other’s cameras on The Office. 

“We got the decorations out earlier,” Remy said, pointing towards the living room. 

“Oh thank God, please get me away from them before I get cavities.” 

The two ducked out of the entryway where they’d all been gathered since Thomas and Virgil’s arrival. For the most part, the house had already been dressed up for Christmas. The tree was lit, the stockings were hung, and there was one final box left to be unpacked. It’d been left on the coffee table, waiting to be opened and taken care of. 

“I forget how sappy you look when you’re thinking about Patton.”

Virgil only gave Remy a rather rude hand gesture in return before lifting the lid off the container. Inside were the ornaments he and Patton had made together over the years. It was a tradition they’d had since before they began dating. Some of them were simple, made out of foam or cardboard and drawn on in marker or glitter glue pens; others were glass or ceramics and decorated with paint or sequins. The one thing they all had in common, though, was the indigo ribbon used to hang the baubles. It was the perfect mix of their favorite colors and needed to be special ordered anytime they ran out. Each one had the year written on it wherever there was space for it. Virgil loved them. Patton loved them so much that he refused to hang any of them without Virgil there to do so with him. 

According to Roman, who Virgil really had to thank for making this trip possible, Patton hadn’t even considered touching the box housing the ornaments, since there hadn’t been any guarantee of Virgil making it home for Christmas. Now, though… 

“Seriously, Virge, if I didn’t already doubt your dark and edgy exterior, I would be right about now.”

“Shut up, Rem,” Virgil said, laughing. 

For awhile longer, the pair just caught up on the last half year. Eventually, Devereux and Thomas returned. Apparently, Patton had gotten chilly and sad (not that he’d admit to that last part but there was no hiding it from his twin), so he and Logan were heading home early. That was all fine and good; they mostly had just needed to get Patton out of the house long enough for Virgil to get home and to bring out the special ornaments. 

While Virgil wanted to disagree with Thomas, Remy, and Devereux being there, he couldn’t be mad about having them around to keep him distracted… as long as they were gone before Patton arrived. With Remy sticking around… Virgil doubted it would happen, and he wouldn’t actually be mad if it did, but he was very good at hogging Patton’s attention. Which was hardly fair! 

Remy got all the attention he could ever ask for already; admittedly, he and Patton had grown up together, were best friends throughout school, not to mention still living near each other and getting to see each other every day and okay sure, without Remy’s guidance, he was pretty sure that even now, Patton wouldn’t believe that Virgil loved him because no offense, but he could propose and Patton would still ask “as like… friends?” 

… Alright, so maybe Virgil couldn’t get mad, pretend or not, at Remy being greedy with Patton’s company. That still didn’t make it fair. 

The following thirty minutes were agonizing. Sure, this wasn’t going to be nearly as extra and it wasn’t like Virgil wanted to outdo Roman and Devereux’s confession but also if he could outdo the drama gays (a term coined by the majority of the town, which was really saying something), then he’d have it to hold over Roman’s head for the rest of time, and that sounded pretty cool. In his humble opinion, jumping out and surprising your loved one was way more romantic than being locked in a room with them and hoping everything would go well. Was he sure yet when he’d be jumping out and surprising Patton? Nope! He kind of figured it’d just be something he knew. 

“They’re here!” Thomas exclaimed, nearly dropping his phone at the suddenness of receiving the text. 

“Get out,” Virgil snapped immediately and unthinkingly at Remy and Devereux. 

“Kinda late for that, doll,” Remy said, at least looking a little sorry about it. 

“We’ll hide out in the crafts room,” Devereux offered, already pulling Remy down the hallway. Virgil pointedly ignored the kiss he blew in Roman’s direction. He very pointedly ignored Roman catching it.

“You know they’ll see Roe’s car, right?” Thomas prompted, grinning.

“I’m glad you��ve already thought up a reason for them to be here then,” Virgil responded, shooting finger guns at his brother, who started stammering reminders that he was terrible with excuses. Never mind that he was an actor and should have been able to improvise something. 

“I’ll handle it,” Roman cut in, patting Thomas on the head, which looked a little ridiculous since they were the same height. “Better get hiding, Virgil.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Virgil hurried to the kitchen where he proceeded to shove into the storage closet, which had been cleared out just enough for him to cram his scrawny self into. It smelled like various spices which reminded him of last year and baking cinnamon cookies with Patton. He wondered what they’d make this time. 

The sound was muffled but the front door opened and shut and… God, how was he supposed to wait long enough to properly surprise his boyfriend? Just hearing Patton’s voice made Virgil want to throw himself into his arms, to kiss him senseless, to hold onto him and never let go. He steadied his breathing by focusing instead on the various scents surrounding him, only half listening to whatever Roman was saying to the twins. The noises got louder as they moved towards the kitchen, probably for Logan and Patton to put away the desserts they’d gone shopping for. 

“Thanks for agreeing to help decorate, even if it is just a— a possibility,” Thomas expressed, voice cracking on the last word. Ugh, he really never had learned how to lie.

“The odds of Virgil actually being able to visit are quite low, Patton,” Logan was saying, “I just don’t want your hopes to get up too high.” Wow. Were they even trying to be subtle? 

“I know that!” Patton exclaimed and Virgil was sure he was flapping his hands. “Imagine if he could, though! What if he showed up on Christmas Eve, oh, that would be so magical!” 

This certainly wasn’t as magical as it could have been but Virgil was sure he’d explode if he waited a second longer. So as soon as it started to sound like the trio was heading back out, Virgil nudged the door open with his foot. It creaked and he winced. No doubt having peaked Patton’s curiosity, Virgil threw the door open the rest of the way, and practically launched himself at his boyfriend’s back.

Patton, for good reason, screamed.

The arms locked around his neck now, however, allowed him to see the hands clasped over his chest. Purple nail polish. A black ring on the middle finger of the right hand. An old friendship bracelet hanging loosely from the wrist. 

Patton screamed again. 

“Virgil!” 

If asked, neither could guess how long they stayed embraced for. Patton was laughing breathlessly into Virgil’s shoulder, muttering his name over and over, sprinkling in the occasional “I love you.” Virgil couldn’t have stopped combing his hand through Patton’s hair even if he wanted to. 

Eventually, they would separate, but only just enough so that Patton could pepper kisses all over Virgil’s face. There might have even been a couple minutes of just gazing at each other, soaking up the mere presence and warmth of the one they loved so dearly.  

Of course, they weren’t really alone which meant the reunion had to end at some point. The house was still full of nosy siblings and parents, after all. So, when Remy came crashing into the kitchen, shouting about how bored he was, neither Virgil nor Patton were all that surprised. He stole Patton away, claiming they had to do something really quick and insisting that Virgil catch up with Logan in the meantime.

“Hey, L,” Virgil said, greeting Logan with a signature two finger salute.

“Nice to see you again, Virgil. How was your semester?” 

They chatted about college, and their respective majors, and any hall mates from hell. Without really realizing it, they got into making a large batch of hot chocolate for everyone while they talked. Each mug was picked especially for its recipient, as well as the various ingredients added to each one. Virgil dropped a peppermint stick into his, added extra marshmallows to Patton’s, and a generous spoonful of caramel sauce for Thomas. 

With Roman’s help, all the drinks were brought out safely to the living room. Devereux seemed to have dozed off in the recliner closest to the fireplace. Thomas was nowhere to be found, so Virgil assumed he’d been roped into whatever nonsense Remy and Patton were up to. 

“So,” Virgil started, settling into the corner of the couch. “Did I outdo the drama gays?”

“Absolutely not,” Roman responded vehemently. 

“Virgil!” Patton shouted suddenly, appearing from the hallway, carrying a bag. “Honey, oh my god.”

Patton shot an apologetic look towards Devereux, who was stirring from his nap, as he hurried towards Virgil. He threw himself onto the couch next to his boyfriend and abandoned the package in favor of grabbing onto Virgil’s arm.

“Earlier, you…” He paused, giggling. “You came out of the pantry.” 

Logan groaned. 

Virgil blinked, slightly bewildered, before he started laughing, too. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.” 

“I have something for you,” Patton continued, retrieving the present. He shoved it into Virgil’s lap.

“Christmas isn’t for another three days?” 

“Yes, and?” 

Thomas, who had just arrived with Remy, snorted. “As if you’ve ever had the patience to wait until the actual day to start opening your gifts.” 

While Virgil pestered Patton about not needing to get him anything, really, Remy and Thomas fought over the last armchair, and eventually just ended up tangled together on it. Logan rolled his eyes at their stubbornness. 

After some insisting from Patton, Virgil pulled out all of the colored tissue paper. Patton proceeded to ball it up and throw it at Remy, whose complaining got progressively louder, until his dad finally tossed a pillow at him with a grumbled “please shut up.” Roman settled on the arm of Devereux’s recliner with the most adoring look in his eyes and carded a hand through his hair, whispering sweetly to him.

“Oh,” Virgil gasped, momentarily losing himself in sensory bliss at the material he’d just got his hands on. 

Patton wiggled, patting Virgil’s knees excitedly. It was the very same scarf he’d bought from Remy barely a week ago. It was black which meant it’d go with anything in Virgil’s wardrobe or with whatever outfit Patton decided to wear should he steal borrow it from him. 

“Try it!” Patton said, moving the rest of the wrapping out of the way.

Looping it around his neck provided Virgil the realization that it was of an infinity scarf, which meant all sorts of different ways to wear it. Would he still just bundle it up to hide his face in it as much as possible? Probably. 

“It’s so soft,” Virgil murmured, rubbing the fabric against his cheek.

“Cashmere,” Remy piped up. “You’re welcome.” 

Patton leaned in, waiting with bright, hopeful eyes. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Virgil huffed, failing spectacularly at downplaying his delight. “I love it. Thank you.” 

If a person could embody !!!, then Patton would be doing a very good job of it. He surged forward, catching Virgil by surprise with the intensity of the kiss. One hand cradled his face while the other clutched at the scarf, using it to pull him closer. Smiling against Patton’s lips, Virgil couldn’t help but think that this was very much something he’d like to have for the rest of his life.

Later, they would hang up their personal ornaments. Tomorrow, they would work on making new ones. The holidays would only continue to get more magical as the years passed, he was sure of it, and honestly? He was really looking forward to it. 

[deadanddeactivated]

Tangled Endings

Fandom: Sanders Sides, Tangled AU Pairing:   Logince, Intruality is implied in that one line Characters: Logan, Roman, Remus and Patton are mentioned Warnings: Temp Death Notes: Day 3 of the fluffuary event being hosted by @tsshipmonth2020 - Logince  Summary: When Roman first stumbled upon the tower and the boy inside he thought it was the worst luck of his life.

Now he knew it was the best.

AO3

–

Sitting on a boat in the middle of the lake, Prin-... Roman couldn’t help but stare at Logan.  The sheltered boy had come a long way since they met.  Roman could still picture him on that first day, desperately fighting to stay controlled and watching the word with a level of distrust.  Now he didn’t hide the curiosity in his eyes as he watched the lanterns float up and up and up.  

“They’re so incredible up close.”  Logan breathed.

“Yeah.”  Roman sighed, then cleared his throat and actually looked at the lanterns.  He’d seen them countless times, he could have sworn they lost their spectacle.  But staring at them tonight was like looking through Logan’s eyes.  Like seeing them for the first time, like having fought tooth and nail to earn this.

It really was incredible.

“Everything you ever dreamed?”  Roman asked.

“It’s much more than I could ever have imagined.”  Logan said.  When Roman looked he found the other man staring at him.  Wow, those lanterns sure heated up the place, didn’t they?  That must be why his cheeks feel so red.  

Before Roman could do something foolish - like kiss Logan, like admit Logan is everything he’d ever dreamed - a small object drifted by their boat.  A lantern, floating almost magically to Logan.

“This one has a symbol on it.”  Logan noted, eyeing the purple crest.  “I wonder what it means.  Perhaps I should have read more about the event, but I had wanted to go in blind.”

“It means that’s the royal lantern.”  Roman explained, staring just as intently at the symbol.  

“Ah, that would make sense.  I thought I had seen it somewhere before.”  Logan nodded.  “What an honour it is it floated our way.”

“Yeah…”  Roman agreed as Logan lifted the royal lantern back into the sky.

He’s heard the rumours.  It wasn’t a lucky honour for that lantern to float to Logan.  How could Roman have missed it?

Oh, but he didn’t, did he?  He just ignored it.  Roman’s seen the royal portraits.  He’s seen the crown Prince Patton himself, watching as Roman and Remus disappeared into the woods and not alerting a single guard.  

Staring at Logan, suddenly in need of a new dream, Roman wondered if he should tell him.  He should.  Logan deserved to know.

“Hey Logan…”  He started.

“Yes Roman?”  Logan asked, looking back to him and Roman… Roman realized he didn’t want to tell Logan.  There’s no way Logan, the returned Prince, would get to spend time with Roman.  But Logan, sheltered boy from a tower?  That was someone Roman could spend time with.

He had to tell Logan, Roman knew that.  But not right now.  Not tonight.

“There’s something I have to tell you later.”  He said.  “Don’t let me forget.”

“Alright.”  Logan accepted, although he frowned a little in confusion.

The confusion was soon forgotten for the lake.  

And the lake soon forgotten for the men on the waters edge.

“I think it’s time for a new dream, yeah?”  Roman assured.  The leather bag was clenched tight in his hands as he stepped out of the boat.  “If I’m not back in ten minutes, row back to the other side.”  He added, because Roman knew this could go bad and he didn’t want Logan paying for his stupidity.  His greed.

“Don’t take more than ten minutes.”  Logan instructed, nervous but trusting smile on his face.

Roman took a lot longer than ten minutes.

--

“It’s fine.”  Roman promised, forcing a smile as he looked up at Logan, his hair suddenly short and brown instead of that dark blue.  “I’ve had worse.”

“Don’t lie to me Roman.”  Ah, he must be upset.  Not even a single muttered ‘falsehood’.  

“I think we just murdered a person.”  Roman said, since he wasn’t lying.  He tried to look at the window the witch had fallen through but found his eyes couldn’t focus that fair away.  All the more reason to keep staring at Logan’s face.  

“It’s not murder it’s self-defence, she just-” but Logan cut himself off with a choked breath.  It took Roman a moment to remember he’d closed his eyes. 

“I knew you had emotions somewhere in there.”  Roman teased, words only gaining another sob.  “I need, I need to tell you something.”  

“You can tell me when you’re better.”  Logan said.  “You’re going to get better.”

“No,” Roman said, surprising himself by how calm he sounds, “I’m not.”  Before all this he’d been desperate to make a name for himself, to make sure he didn’t die a nameless thief.  

He was dying a nameless thief but, knowing his life meant something to Logan, he didn’t mind so much.

“You’re the missing prince.”  Roman said.  Whispered, really.  He hadn’t meant to whisper.

“I know.”  Logan assured.  “I know Roman.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”  Roman continued.  He couldn’t quite focus on Logan now either.  With great effort, he raised his hand to cup Logan’s cheek.  Immediately, Logan’s hand was on top of his.  It felt cold.  Or maybe that was just Roman.  “I’m not good enough for Prince Logan, I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You’re much more than ‘good enough’ for me.”  Logan managed.  “You won’t lose me Roman, so long as I don’t lose you.”

“Okay.”  Roman agreed.  His arm felt like dead weight, kept in place only by Logans.  “You won’t lose me.”  He lied.

The last thing he remembered was Logan’s lips on his.

--

Roman really, really didn’t expect to wake up.  

Like, ever.  

Yet he blinks his eyes open to a smiling Logan, face still coated with tears.

“It worked.”  Logan breathed.  “Thank flower it worked.”  

Okay, Logan had healed him.  Even without the magic hair.  That’s about all Roman thought about the matter before he rose up, kissing Logan the way he couldn’t when he was dying.  Fully and passionately, forcing all his emotion into it.  

This wasn’t the end of it, Roman knew.  The Guard Captain would find them soon, they’d need to introduce Logan to his parents and brother.

But for now, all that mattered was kissing Logan like it was the last thing he’d ever do.  Because this time it wouldn’t be.

[anothercouch]

A Pair of Wings - Chapter 10

Angelmont is a dazzling kingdom for aspiring angel hunters and sorcerers alike. Though, when Logan finally sees the dark truth of this beautiful place, he’s casted out and labeled the local lunatic of the kingdom. He saw no logic in angel hunting and its cruel practices. Now he’s determined to prove them wrong, but after nearly ten years wasting away in a forest and losing hope, he’s on the brink of throwing his invention away. That is, until a curious angel falls from the sky right in front of him.

Word Count: 2.8k

a/n: hey guys! thank you so much for reading but i might not be able to post a chapter for next week since I'm on vacation, so i decided to post the next chapter early for y'all. enjoy!

Previous, Next, Masterpost

--------------------

Janus’ heart raced as he rushed back into the forest once again, though, all he brought this time was a sword. He didn’t feel like going angel hunting, not anymore. And as he did want to keep his business afloat, he left it off to his apprentices to hunt for him. Thank goodness they all were trained enough to go hunting by themselves now, otherwise he might’ve thrown up seeing another dead angel. Though, it wasn’t exactly the reason why he was running through the forest this late. He dared look at their portrait again, and if he didn’t run to the woods, he might’ve ripped his heart out then and there. Thoughts of them were plaguing his mind, especially after his discovery. Every time he’d even see angel wings, he was punched in the gut with them in his mind. He wished he could have them back, he wished he could say sorry. Yet here he was alone in the woods, running away from his problems like a child. Pathetic.

A cool breeze passed by Janus as the full moon illuminated the night sky. He walked around, talking to himself in his head as he went deeper and deeper into the forest. There wasn’t much to see, as he’d been in this forest since he was young. He knew this place by the back of his hand and if he did ever get lost, all he needed to do was find the mountains, and walk away from them. Though, tonight, something about the mountains was calling to him. He looked up, seeing all the little caves lit up by bond fires. A tree rustled in the wind, taking him back when he was young and first starting to hunt angels. He was quite a spirited child his father would say to him. The first time he’d finally shot one down was in one go, while all the other children were still learning how to use a crossbow. Thinking about it now was just bittersweet. He was so proud in those moments but now he was uneasy, knowing he murdered people. Though there was still one nagging thought. Maybe they weren’t people, maybe he just hallucinated and was finally going crazy, isolating himself from so many people.

Janus’ sword jostled around his belt as he continued to roam around the forest, ending up in the spot where he saw those two angels. An image of them popped into his head, trying to decipher out their features. Something about those two angels were familiar, but he wasn’t sure why. He sighed, walking more as he thought about it. The forest was silent except for the occasional breeze that shook the leaves on the trees above him. He took in a deep breath, feeling the cool air enter his lungs. It made him shiver, not from the cold, but from the calming feeling it gave him. Soon, he walked around more, getting lost in his thoughts, until he stumbled upon a small clearing in the middle of the forest with a trail that was supposed to lead outside back to Angelmont. It must’ve been one of the old roads that people stopped using. There were a lot of shrubbery and wildlife now growing on the path, blocking out the small clearing from the kingdom.

“What a lovely place…” Janus thought as he walked around the edge of the clearing, hiding in the trees.

The moon shone perfectly into the clearing, almost illuminating the entire place. Janus’ heart raced, a child-like wonder filling him all of a sudden. He could feel the energy from the moonlight trickle down on his body as it shone on to him. With a careful step, he walked out from his hiding spot and went into the clearing, sitting down and feeling the energy. Though he hasn’t worked with magic much outside of using angel wings, the energy that lingered in this place filled his body. The clearing wanted to wrap him in this warm, comforting, and sad energy that was left over. Perhaps someone else was here not too long ago, though he shook his head at the thought. There were no signs of foot traffic anywhere in sight. He laid down looking up at the night sky and took in a deep breath. All of a sudden, an image of them popped into his mind, almost feeling their energy again, but he pushed it away. He wanted this time to himself and no one else.

Something about this clearing, it had history and Janus could sense it. If truly no one’s been around here in such a long time, then why was there this energy nagging at him? It warmed his body from head to toe though it panged at his chest. Another cool breeze passed by, making him smile as he looked up at the stars above. He always loved looking for the constellations in the sky. Soon, that little purple angel he saw on his hunt popped into his head. What a sad thing it-… they were. They lost one of their majestic wings and now had to live with such a burden. Though what was most interesting about them was that they didn’t seem to mind all that much.  At first, he thought they lost it when they were injured, but it would’ve been bleeding out if it was. Perhaps it was an old injury made long ago. The tall grass swayed in the wind and it almost tickled at him as he continued to look at the stars that dotted the sky.

All of a sudden, a fast wind hit Janus, making a whooshing noise in the grass. He peeked out of the grass just a bit to see an angel running as fast as they could near the edge of the clearing towards the mountains. It was hard to see in the dim light but something about one of their wings were weird, almost uncanny. He kept their eyes on them as they ran, trying to see what in the world was wrong with that other wing. They came to a stop, thankfully, as they reached the edge of the mountains and he got a good look as the moonlight shone on them. The other wing was brown, compared to the purple one on the right, and it was more bat-like. He blinked and rubbed his eyes as one feature of this wing stood out. It had no feathers. He’d never seen an angel with featherless wings but what was even more strange was that the other wing had beautiful purple feathers, even though they were quite scrappy looking. The angel soon started to climb up the mountain, which he didn’t expect. They had two good wings, so why would they climb instead of fly? A wind blew by him, humming in his ears as the angel continued to climb up. Then it hit him. An image of that injured purple angel he saw with the two other angels appeared in his mind. Then he looked over to the brown wing. It looked… man made, and someone in particular popped in his mind.

“Did that lunatic actually do it?” Janus thought as he kept looking at the brown wing, “Is he alive?”

Now that Janus recalled, there was news about a certain crazy person yapping about how they could make wings without hunting angels down years ago. He scoffed at the idea before since they were nearly impossible to make. Last time he heard about them was that they ran to the forest, never to be seen again. He thought they’d be dead by now, their body scattered somewhere in the forest, but with the evidence in front of him, perhaps there was a chance they might just be alive. He laid down again, looking up at the twinkling stars. His lungs filled with cold air, calming him. Soon, another person came to mind.

“Should I tell Thomas?” Janus thought.

He knew Thomas was interested in the idea of artificial wings, but never has said more than that. Why though? Just why did he seem to care so much? He sat back up as a breeze passed by him. With a slow step, he stood up, looking over to Thomas’ castle in the distance. It was late, but if they were awake, perhaps he should tell them. He looked up at the moon, then back down to the castle as he took in one more deep breath, making a decision. It would be a long walk, but at least he’d get the chance to visit his dear friend.

✰✰✰✰✰

Janus walked down the old streets of Angelmont, feeling the history all around him, until he finally reached the gate of Thomas’ castle. Three guards stood by as he approached.

“Well, hello Mr. Chapman! It’s always good to see you!” one of the guards greeted Janus, smiling.

“It’s good to see you, too. Now, I know it’s quite late, but do you know if Thomas is still up? I have something urgent to tell him.”

“Oh, yes! The king should still be up. I believe he’s in his library right now,” they said, the gates now opening.

Beyond the gate was a gigantic garden filled with all types of flowers and plants around the castle. Lampposts lit the cobblestone walkway to the entrance of the castle, the giant doors adorned with intricate carvings. The windows all had a small warm glow to them that contrasted the cool colors of the moonlight shining down. Soon, one of the guards walked on to the path and motioned Janus to follow them. He soon followed, walking down the beautiful pathway. The smell of rose bushes and the fresh night air filled his lungs, making him smile. The wooden doors of the castle creaked as they opened, more light illuminating the path. They both walked up the small flight of stairs and soon entered the warm castle.

Torches lined the wall and a large red rug with golden details contrasted the gray stone walls. Pictures of Thomas’ family and former monarchs hung on the walls each with placards with their name at the bottom. There were various other wooden doors leading into other rooms like the kitchen or meeting room, but none were as spectacular or more marvelous than the library. He could get lost in there for days if he wanted to. His heart raced as he scrambled to find the right words he’d say to Thomas. Even though they were a trusted friend of his, something about this was at least slightly nerve wracking. How would they react to this news? Would they think he was crazy? Soon, they both approached the tall red door at the end of the hallway, and just on top hung a portrait of the current king themself, Thomas.

The guard opened the door, revealing the bookshelves that reached high up to the ceiling. In the middle of the library was a few tables and chairs for when guest wanted to read. Both of them took a left, passing bookshelves packed with every single book imaginable, and into another area of the library. In the wall there was a roaring fireplace, warming the entire area. A large rug and some soft chairs and couches circled around it along with small coffee tables. And there sat Thomas on the right, in their favorite red chair, writing in a book.

“Your majesty, Mr. Chapman is here and would like to speak with you.”

“Oh! Janus is here? Let him in! It’s nice seeing an old friend.”

“As you wish,” they said as Janus walked closer to Thomas.

A thud rang in Janus’ ears as the door closed though soon, he heard the crackle of the enormous fireplace that illuminated the little section of the library with a warm glow. It was always cozy here with the heavy smell of books and the taste of imagination that lingered in this place. As he walked, Thomas turned around and a fat grin formed on their face. That soft smile always made him smile back, their joy terribly contagious.

“It’s good to see you, Janus. Haven’t seen you in a while,” Thomas said, sweetness in their voice.

“It’s good to see you, too…” Janus said, a bit too quiet than what he expected. Their face turned from joy into concern.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on your mind?”

Janus took a seat near Thomas, now feeling his body shake somewhat as he looked at the fireplace. The image of a certain person came to mind, but he shook it away as quick as a fox. There was a silence for a moment until Thomas spoke.

“Were you thinking about them again?”

He scrunched up a bit, knowing exactly who they were talking about.

“You know, you’re always welcome to stay at my castle if you need to or just roam around for a while.”

“I know and yes… I was thinking about them, but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.” He paused, trying to find his words. “It’s just… I was walking around in the forest and I saw something fascinating… Something I thought was impossible but might not be.”

At this, Thomas placed down the book he was writing in and the quill on the coffee table, their eyes now wide.

“What do you mean by impossible?”

“Well… do you remember that lunatic that said they could make artificial wings and how they fled to the forest? It was back when we first met. When you became king…”

“Logan Clark? That guy? That was years ago now…” Thomas said, the fire crackling in the background, “I’ll be honest, I really wonder how he’s been doing all alone in the forest…”

“Well, I don’t think you need to wonder any longer,” he paused, “There was an angel I saw that had different looking wings when I was in the forest.”

“Really?” they said, excitement in their voice.

“Yes! One of the wings was a solid brown while the other was purple. They couldn’t fly for some reason, but it’s not every day you see an angel with different colored wings. I think that brown wing was made by that guy, Logan...”

There was silence between the two of them, Thomas with a hand on his chin and the crackle of the fire was the only thing that’d occasionally cut through the silence. Janus sat back in the soft chair, his hands on his knees and his fingers tapping as he waited for a response. His body shook a bit but tried to focus on the warmth coming from the fireplace. He watched as his friend sat in deep thought. Sometimes he wondered what went on in their mind that exploded with ideas left and right. Sometimes he wished for that creativity, that type of imagination. They’d write story after story every day and somehow their hands never got tired of the same old routine. It was marvelous how they haven’t broken their fingers yet from writing so much, both for work and art.

“Where did you find this angel at?”

Janus’ eyes fluttered as Thomas’ voice cut through the silence.

“It was in an abandoned clearing, around the center of the forest. I thought you just might be interested since I remember you were so caught up with that guy when the news first came out.”

There was another silence. Janus could tell there was something stirring in Thomas’ mind.

“I think I’ll investigate this another night,” they said, “It’s rather late and I think I’ve written enough for tonight. Would you like to stay? I wouldn’t mind.”

Janus scrunched up, thinking. They were right, it was getting late, and to be honest, he didn’t feel like walking back to his house. His legs were sore after his trek back to Angelmont, and he would like to get some shut eye soon. The fireplace was starting to die, and he shivered a bit.

“I’ll stay for the night. I haven’t hung out with you in a while anyways.”

“Alright then, my room? And I’ll get you a blanket…” Thomas said as a smile formed on their face and he stood up. Janus stood up as well, smiling back.

“Sure, and thanks…”

“It’s no problem…”

The pair both walked out of the library and back into the long hallways of the castle. An arm was soon thrown on to Janus’ shoulders, making him giggle at Thomas’ goofy face. He wrapped an arm around their middle back as they both walked upstairs. It was nice to have such a good friend.

[sebthesnipe]

The Dreamer by Whatwashernameagin an Analysis? Part 3

All portions:

Chapter 1: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 2: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

The Dreamer 

@whatwashernameagain​

Let’s jump right in, shall we?

Reminder: Spoilers under cut! 

If we pick up where we left off, Logan talks about The Dreamer’s/Roman’s vision of the future ‘where everyone could live in love and harmony, and humanity would grow into its glowing, gallant potential, coexisting in friendship with nature and respecting the planet while creating a world fir for fairy tails’. “Why would no one see that [The Dreamer] was clearly delusional” (Whatwashernameagain)? Can anyone say… Foreshadowing?

I know I haven’t made it to chapter 2 yet but I need to bring this up so… If you haven’t read Chapter 2 yet then skip this bit.

*****CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS**** 

Once again, Roman’s character portrait is gaining more depth with this paragraph. In Chapter 2 we learn that Roman really does see the future this way. The knowledge has a sense of innocence that Logan obviously finds annoying but adds yet another endearing quality to the hero. I won’t go into too much detail about Chapter 2 but the foreshadowing here is quite lovely and shouldn’t be ignored. Logan calls Roman delusional for his vision and he truly is. With everything that we learn in Chapter 2 we see just how delusional the hero really is. But its not only for the future… his delusions go far deeper, involving his family, his duty, his team… I’ll stop there. You’ll just have to read my analysis of Chapter 2 when I eventually get there.

Now back to our regular scheduled programming…

*****END OF CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS*****

 Okay… so this next para…. Oh man… So many thoughts…. “Despite his illogical argumentation, [The Dreamer] had somehow kept him from some of the more drastic measures [Logan’s] supercomputer suggested would be necessity for the continued well-being of all – much to the computer’s ire” (Whatwashernameagain). So, I really want to use two types of literary theories here… one being reader-response and the other bordering psychoanalysis. In other words, more Freud stuff.  Don’t worry I’m not going to go into too much detail this time.

When I read this para all I can picture is the left and right side of the brain, which is really what Roman and Logan are aren’t they? I’ve briefly touched on the fact that Logan and Roman are polar opposites complimenting themselves before but… this para makes me consider it in a different way. Roman is acting almost like a conscious here; providing a line to draw when Logan starts to get out of control. Roman is the reigns that are yanked when Logan goes too fast. He keeps the Logical side in check. Fitting. Poetic. Perfect. Love it, Eva.

And… This super computer has so much Sass… Must be Remy. XP

With the introduction of Remy we get another burst of the light hearted humor that comes with his personality. Eva balances the character well, in my opinion. Remy is supposed to be a supercomputer with some sass but writing a character that is a computer can be difficult. I really would like to spend some time discussing Remy but I am afraid that I can’t go into to much detail. Remy in this scene is more of a support character, and there isn’t much to go on at the moment… Of course, knowing Eva, this will change in the future. I am sure he has plenty to say about Remy as the story progresses. As it stands Remy makes for a good comic relief and fantastic transitional device, pulling the reader from Logan’s thoughts back into the present to help the story move on.

 **I’m going to pause here for a moment. While analyzing the entrance of Remy I grew curious about a few things and decided to ask her. I am going back to edit this in because while writing this portion of the analysis I felt as if I was missing something. Why did she choose Remy specifically to be the supercomputer and how does it play into any of this? I knew there had to be a reason, but I hadn’t managed to figure it out. So, I asked. Here was her response:

“So I absolutely thought about why I wanted Remy as the computer. Computers are associated with cool predictability and lacking emotional competence and stiff, predictable speech patterns. Everything Logan already is. Especially this computer, who has to calculate the highest odds- the value of human life - has to make extremely cold and emotionless decisions. He would have escalated Logan’s crusade dramatically had he behaved exactly like Logic at its worst and purest moments. And their conversations would have read like Logan talking to his Mini me. He had to break up that stereotype because we already have a human trying to operate like a computer. If the calculation of our actions through utilitarian predictions are possible (which I believe they are) the reverse - the creation of unique and emotionally capable A.I.s needs to be taken into account soon. Though Remy is not part of the deliberation yet, his ability for human emotion demands he be included. He makes that demand by being essentially the most human of all of them and I will go into (too much) Detail when it’s time for his arc.”

When she told me this I was floored! I knew that she put more deliberation into her writing than most, but I had never really expected this. That sounds as if I underestimated her but that isn’t the case. I knew she had considered it or I wouldn’t have asked but… Well this is just so beautiful… I suppose there is a reason she is such a fantastic writer… And this people, is one of them. Absolutely stunning, Eva. **

 We jump back into Logan’s thoughts within the next paragraph. Remy accused the man of not ‘giving an f’ about what he says. He states that he attempts to follow Remy’s advice without prejudice. “However, whenever he endeavored to put those plans into action or even considered it, something made him hesitate. It was like a bug, hindering his rational thought process. A pesky pop-up window halting his deliberations and muddling his convictions with banal platitudes and illogical rambling” (Whatwashernameagain). I LOVE this paragraph!

So, the imagery here is fantastic. Eva uses a wonderful simile that really catches Logan’s personality. But I’ll have to get into that in a moment. I want to touch on something else first. We know that Logan is driven by Logic; he is Thomas’ logical side after all. That being said, it has been discussed within her Keep Him Safe fandom that Logan is/maybe autistic. I think that it is very fitting for Logan to be autistic (though this may be due to the fact that I am autistic as well). The thing is… and I really wish I had the source for this, but I don’t know what I’ve done with it and can’t for the life of me find it again. I am sorry. Anyways, if we look at this logically Logan is thirty years old (thought Eva may change that but the Logan in Sanders Sides is thirty because Thomas is thirty so I’m going with it); Which means that he grew up in 1990s. There wasn’t a lot of treatment for mild cases of autism in the nineties. In fact, it wasn’t until 2013 Autism Spectrum disorders were classified in DSM-V (History of Autism Treatment). Even if children were diagnosed before then, most cases in the 1980s and some in the 1990 used ECT, which involves passing small electric currents through the brain to intentionally trigger a brief seizure (History of Autism Treatment). These seizures are supposed to be hypothesized to change the brain chemistry in a way to reduce mental health symptoms (History of Autism Treatment). ECT is still used in some cases of autism today, though it is rare (History of Autism Treatment). Why is this important? Well, I am 27 years old. I grew up in the same era of Logan. I am also autistic so believe me when I say that /if/ someone tried to get Logan treated as a child he would have been subject to countless medications, off the wall treatment plans and subject to so many misdiagnoses that eventually he would have simply folded in on himself as we’ve seen him do throughout this work. On top of that, when he eventually came off of the treatments, he would had molded himself to avoid them at all costs becoming cold and driven by logic, blocking away as much of the emotional side of himself as he could and thus becoming the Logan we know today. This defense mechanism would obvious move into his adult years. I don’t know if this is Logan’s history in this work, this is merely speculation, but I am quite fond of the idea and historically speaking it is entirely possible.

 **Author confirmed Logan is autistic**

 I explain all this because if a person tries to block out emotions that are core to the very existence of a human being than what happens? Well, the example Eva gives, that’s what; “He attempted to follow the disgruntled computer’s advices without prejudice. However, whenever he endeavored to put those plans into action or even considered it, something made him hesitate” (Whatwashernameagain). Logan obviously tries to be as cold and calculating as his computer but despite his efforts, the fact remains… He is /not/ a computer; and he never will be. No matter how logical you try to be… no matter how much you block out your emotions, they will turn up here and there and there is NOTHING you can do to stop them. It is part of the human condition. Which brings me back to the simile I mentioned.

“It was like a bug, hindering his rational thought process. A pesky pop-up window halting his deliberations and muddling his convictions with banal platitudes and illogical rambling” (Whatwashernameagain).

This simile reinforces my hypothesis, but I still can’t say that it is true. Regardless it does show the struggle between Logan’s desire to be cold and calculating and his humanity; even basically describing himself as a computer (I’m pretty sure Remy would have a few things to say about that if he knew).  He describes his humanity as a bug, or a virus, a pop-up messing with his head. Or… Could it be that it’s not his humanity that’s bothering him at all… Maybe it’s something… or someone else….

He states that this virus is “muddling his convictions with banal platitudes and illogical rambling”. For those of you about to look up the definition of banal platitudes, I’ve already done the work for you lol. It basically means clichés. So… clichés and ‘illogical’ rambling? Sound like anyone we know? Maybe a certain Dreamer? I talk as if Logan’s pesky humanity and The Dreamer are two different issues entirely but they are not. Roman seems to be a symbol of Logan’s unwanted humanity; something he both needs to define himself and hates because he wishes he didn’t need it. It is quite a wonderful use of symbolism and philosophical structure, beautifully executed. Someone once told me that a superhero is only as good as its villain. I believe that has some truth to it and vice versa. What would Batman be without the Joker or The Riddler? But it also poses the question… What would we be without our humanity. What would good be without bad? In life we define everything as a comparison. If you try to describe the color red you wouldn’t be able to because they can not compare the color to things that are red. In a world without bad, we wouldn’t recognize the good and in a world without good, the bad is just life. Would it be the same if the Utilitarianist didn’t have The Dreamer? If Logan didn’t have Roman?

This an actual concept in the literary world known as the dialectical method. “The dialectical method of analysis begins with particular sense data (knowledge of a single object). But such focus on a particular object of knowledge immediately invites reflection on what the particular object is not. It is not a concept or idea or category. We look at the legal system, for example, and see a law, but to understand a particular law fully we need to know what the principle or idea is that makes it a law" (Rivkin, Julie). While it doesn’t exactly work 100% for Roman and Logan in this instant, it basically mean that one thing is only defined by comparing it to another. But that is for another story…

A good writer makes their reader want to ask questions, to learn more… we see that here without a doubt.

I mentioned that the ‘banal platitudes and illogical ramblings Logan mentioned that were distracting him could be Roman and the next line confirms that theory: “The Dreamer was intruding on his mental solitude increasingly often with the memories of his wide eyes, predictably shocked at learning about the Utilitarianist’s latest plans, before determination lit a fire in his green eyes.” I’m sure his eyes are not the only thing crossing Logan’s mind… As I said before, Roman is a good representation of Logan’s conscious here, with a subtext of attraction that is ever present when it comes to his thoughts about the hero. Logan goes on to describe Roman’s banter once more but this time… there’s something a little different to his words.

“His voice was like a constraining vice around his chest, forcing him to remember his outraged claims of rightness and kindness and chivalry and peace – foolish banalities standing in the way of real benefits for the world. And yet his arguments kept resurfacing in his mind, playing like a broken record. Hopes for unity and joint efforts and belief in humanity’s solidarity and such naive nonsense. Data had proven the probability of success for his hopes at about 8%. A waste of time” (Whatwashernameagain).

8%.... 8%... Of course, Logan would know that! He talks about this hero getting in his way and messing up his plans but when it comes down to it the constant reminder seems to point to one thing… (Besides denial and attraction which we’ve already covered) Jealousy. Logan obviously isn’t jealous of The Dreamer’s popularity or social status, he doesn’t have a care for though things. No, the thing Logan is jealous of is hope. Let’s think about this for a moment. Sure, Roman is the symbol of hope for the country but that’s a different kind of hope. No, the thing that Logan continuously points out is the man’s ignorant hopeful view of a future that is almost impossible… Well, 92% impossible anyways. Logan is autistic… he is driven by logic, pushing down all his emotions as best he can because they are inherently bad… at least that is what he was conditioned to believe; you can’t push down just the bad emotions, its an all or nothing type of deal if you’re trying to be the most logical being you can be… Which means all the good emotions went with them… Logan doesn’t feel emotions like most people… like Roman…

I’m not saying that he doesn’t feel emotions, being autistic can sometimes mean you simply don’t feel emotions the same way as others. Plus, it makes sense for Logan to suppress them… ANYWAYS, I’m getting sidetracked. My point is that a lot of times when you struggle with something like that (or even depression (since ‘numbness’ can be a symptom of depression)) it can be quite difficult to see others enjoying emotions that you are incapable/not use to feeling. It is possible that this might be the case with Logan. Roman’s hope for the future, despite complaining of his naivety, is something Logan covets. It is something he probably respects, though he’d never admit it. I’m sure he no doubt calculated the statistics of Roman’s future to prep for his next argument but also because he was just a little bit curious as to how likely it really is. I even doubt he would actually tell Roman he only had an 8% chance of succeeding because he doesn’t want to see disappointment on those beautiful features; he’d probably just tell him the chances were slim… Though Roman would no doubt be one of those guys that would respond to ‘Fat chance’ with ‘I have a chance; and its fat!”.    Of course, the next paragraph confirms my thoughts on Roman’s reaction to the information and once again reinforces Logan’s thoughts on just how handsome The Dreamer is.

The thing I want to draw attention to next is another opinion of Logan’s. Eva writes from his POV “Thankfully, many of his actions were far too advanced for a simple mind like the Dreamer’s, which afforded him the ability to work in peace. The threat of law-enforcement was hardly severe enough to warrant his attention. Still, he had interrupted his work and caused critical failure to several of his more drastic plans” (Whatwashernameagain).  So, this brings up a number of things we were not privy to beforehand. First, it paints the dynamic in a bit of a different light. It brings our attention to the fact that Logan doesn’t see the man as the sharpest tool in the shed. We learn in Chapter 2 that that isn’t exactly the reason behind it all but Logan, of course is not privy to this… yet. Once again, we see Logan have a bit of a superiority complex, though I doubt he means to or even realizes it. In society today, knowledge is power, and Logan has a lot of it. His view that Roman is less intelligent puts him lower on the power scale and therefore beneath him. This reinforces the same imagery offered earlier in the story, calling Roman a ‘thorn in [Logan’s] shoe’ and the fact that Logan is not happy being attracted to him. On the opposite side it also reinforces just how adorably innocent Roman is.

I LOVE this next bit! Logan mentions that he had not made Roman a target despite Remy’s insistence and explains his position of the subject: “he was trying to be useful in his own way. Criminals and terrorist attempting to profit of the system’s flaws or praying on the weak were an issue the Utilitarianist was aware of, even if he had little time to devote to such matters as we worked on the grand scheme of things. Pedophiles were most deplorable, yes, but Remy could not devote his processor power to chasing every single individual. They had brought two sex-trafficking rings to light with the help of their white-hat-hackers and had, by making the addresses of the offenders’ public, dealt with a lot of them indirectly, yet a single kidnapping was a too small variable to devote any time to” (Whatwashernameagain). So far, we’ve seen Logan move from frustration, obsession, denial, attraction, respect to envy… now we see… understanding? While some may think this is a bit contradictory, I would have to disagree… In fact, it makes complete sense that Logan would accept and understand Roman’s heroic persona. Afterall, the two of them share the same goal, they simply go about it in two different extremes.

Logan wants a better world where things like corrupt governments are nonexistent and every person can walk to their car at night without having to cling to their pepper spray or keys so desperately. Granted, he is attempting to accomplish this on such a large scale that it will not happen anytime soon, but the intention is still there. In his mind, the end justifies the means and therefore the Utilitarianist was born. Roman wants the same world, granted there are a few more rainbows and most certainly more glitter in his vision but it is the same none the less. The only difference is Roman’s sense of morality stopping him from doing something as drastic as Logan does. I think Logan sees this and though he considers the unwillingness a type of weakness he can see that Roman has a use and therefore has value (just as the utilitarianism principle suggests). In fact, in a way, Roman is assisting Logan in his goals, though it is a very small way. He is basically taking care of smaller crimes while Logan attempts to handle the big guns. This, of course, paints their dynamic in a bit of different light; Logan being the brains while Roman fumbles about and makes his job far more difficult that it needs to be. Think of it like Pinky and the Brain, or Dexter (from Dexter’s Laboratory) and his sister DeeDee (Is my age showing?). Within the next two paragraphs

Logan talks about the hero saving a young girl and the ‘almost-admiration’ that he had felt for the hero who was basically doing something Logan was incapable of; which reinforces the analysis. A small snippet of their interactions is seen for the first time; Roman lecturing about every life counts and using power for good; Logan making a smart-ass comment in return and blasting him off the oil rig with high pressured water. This is actually quite a beautiful scene because it shows the rivalry (despite Logan’s complaining) is filled with more of a playfulness than actual malice. It is obvious that Logan doesn’t really want to harm Roman and vice versa. It makes for a very soft moment for the reader, warming them a bit.

The playfulness continues through the next scene. Logan reminisces about a moment when Roman’s ‘incompetence’ managed to get him captured by another villain. There is a lot to read during this scene so I will try to be brief (I am trying to shorten these parts while also moving a bit quicker through the work, so I don’t bore you guys too much). Logan states that “only Remy had managed to piece together his whereabouts after Logan had mentioned his failure to appear in front of a camera for a solid two days. Leaving him to die in the hands of such an individual might have caused a significant amount of unrest and subsequent danger to the public” (Whatwashernameagain).

First off, do you really pay Roman so much attention that you notice when he’s not there to brighten your day? Of course you do. I’m sure he would love the attention if he knew about it. Anyways, the last sentence provides more insight into what I have previously said about Logan’s recognition of Roman’s usefulness. He states that Roman’s disappearance would cause unrest and subsequent danger to the public. While, he may be making excuses, according to Remy, he does recognize this to be try and it is. If the public discovered The Dreamer was gone crime would spike, people’s hope would disappear causing them to lash out in fear and over protectiveness; everything Logan was working towards wouldn’t necessarily crumble but would no doubt be slowed. Which brings me back to the whole dialectical theory thing from earlier, which I won’t bore you with again. Just know that everything is related to something else in meaning, including Logan and Roman.

Love the light humor of Remy calling Logan his ‘computer-world-interaction device! LOL! Aside from the light humor, the interaction is a good resource in rounding out Remy as a character. It offers the reader a chance to understand that Remy needs/wants to interact with the outside world, to experience what it is to be apart of society outside his connections with the internet… Don’t we all Remy… Don’t we all… It develops Remy into the AI he is supposed to be rather than the image of a computer we originally had.

“Saving the Dreamer from his own incompetence was not a concession to his naive beliefs. No, certainly not! If anything, his wailing and warbling had caused Logan a headache as he’d dragged him out of the bunker, arguing the whole way” (Whatwashernameagain).

Logan SAVED Roman?! I love this. Irony at its finest! The villain saves the hero. Poetic justice! It also paints Logan to have a heart, though he denies it, which is quite nice too. Too bad Roman has no idea that his initials are carved in the ice around said heart. Best part is, we actually get to see a small snippet of the argument between the two: “’Uhhng you’re such an impossible motherf- um motherboard! Because you’re like a computer! Cold and emotionless!’ [The Dreamer] wailed, narrowly avoiding uttering a vile insult in his frustration. He prided himself on a hero’s impeccable manners, after all” (whatwashernameagain).

So, this snippet does a lot of things for Roman’s persona here. It provides him with the sass we hadn’t seen from him yet, giving him a bit more personality and a small bit of his POV which is a first in the story as well. We also can see the stark contrast between his and Logan’s frustration. Roman loses a bit of control in his frustration and almost curses; while Logan’s frustration, while intense, was still controlled almost to perfection (minus the one time he almost got caught because Roman got him to argue with him). His calm cool demeanor rarely cracking. Roman, as we see here, however, is the opposite, wearing the emotion on his sleeve and allowing it to flow freely rather than being bottled up and locked away like Logan attempts to do.

“Why had he cared to save this man after all? Not because of the softly uttered gratitude he’d finally muttered as he’d bundled him into an intimidated police officer’s car or his wide, awed eyes as he’d materialized out of the shadows of his cell, perfectly adjusted to the darkness in his neck-high sleek, black suit and high-tech mask that made him resemble a nimble, black cat. Or the way his expression had morphed into a knowing, almost warm smile before their differences had made their tempers rise once again” (Whatwashernameagain).

Okay, first off… Lets look at the structure here. This is another thing I love about Eva’s writing. I’ve mentioned time and time again, her ability to transition from one POV to another seamlessly but she also does it with timeframes. We’ve seen it a few times now, but this is probably the most obvious one which is why I waited until I got to this point before bringing it up. Before this para we were reading a small snippet of the arguing as Logan dragged Roman to safety. Now, we see Logan deposit Roman into a car and then BAM! Back in the cell he had been being kept in. The best part is that it is done so seamlessly that the reader doesn’t even really think about the fact that they are jumping back and forth in this timeline, they are simply able to piece it together as if it was all one piece… absolutely beautiful…

This para also gives a small insight into the humanity in Logan I had mentioned before, the humanity that only seems to come out when Roman is around; thus, reinforcing the fact that Roman /is/ Logan’s humanity. It also is a reminder of Logan’s denial but who is paying attention to that anymore?

Logan mentions the ‘softly uttered gratitude’ that Roman mutters as he was bundled in the car; making me wonder just how often Logan is thanked? Probably never… It is no wonder it was something of note here. It is like feeding a steak to someone who is accustomed to instant ramen: Surprising but not unwelcomed.

He also talks about Roman’s ‘wide, awed eyes,’ the look turning into a ‘knowing, almost warm smile.’ This is another example of how Eva manages to catch emotions so beautifully. This is also a wonderful example of Reader-Response theory as well. She mentions the physical reaction that Roman has at the appearance of Logan, but she leaves everything else up to the reader to fill in the blank… to shape the story. Still, she gave us just enough to work with.

Roman is obviously surprised that someone was there for him as his eyes go wide, but its really the fact that it is Logan, his opposite, his rival, that is there to save him. The shock fades quickly though as everything Roman has been arguing with the man over seems to come true in his eyes. Logan has just proven Roman right in the sense that Logan is good at heart and /can/ do the right thing… that there is hope that he can be led down the ‘right’ path. But the smile he offered wasn’t cocky or conceited if that were the case. It was simply ‘warm’. The complexity of human thought and emotions is far to vast for anyone to really /know/ what Roman was thinking her but I’m going to give a guess: Roman saw for the first time that his rival was not only living up to Roman’s hopes and expectations but was, in a way, providing him with a sense of friendship that Roman probably wasn’t accustomed to. Or at least a sense of affection (platonic or otherwise). No doubt, being a hero was a very lonely existence.

And we end the scene with Logan mentioning Remy’s like for Roman and his ‘cute ass and mouth.’  That’s Remy for you.

Thank you for joining me for Part 3 of this analysis. I apologize for the length and want to thank you for baring with me through it.

Yes, this is a repost. I had posted a very short Part 3 earlier today and did not want to end the Chapter 1 analysis on an odd number, so I combined Parts 3 and 4.

I will see you guys in part 4! Feel free to send me an ask or message with questions, concerns, emotional outbursts or things you simply would like to discuss or add! Thank you all!

  “History of Autism Treatment.” Applied Behavior Analysis Programs Guide, https://www.appliedbehavioranalysisprograms.com/history-autism-treatment/.

Rivkin, Julie. Literary Theory: a Practical Introduction. Wiley-Blackwell, 2017.

Whatwashernameagain. “The Dreamer - Chapter 1.” Hello Guys Gals And Non Binary Friends, 8 Sept. 2019, https://whatwashernameagain.tumblr.com/post/187581477262/the-dreamer-chapter-1.

[the-sunshine-dims]

amnesia chapter 2; logan,

ok there was actually some positive feedback of people saying they liked it so bam chapter two electric boogaloo!

[1] [^] [3] [4] [5] [6]

words: 1150

Summary: deceit gets amnesia, the others realize how much they had assumed about this side, and how much information they discarded, they thought this dork  who likes making flower crowns and will lie if it’s necessary or too save someone’s feelings, was this evil villain who’s only job was to hurt thomas, and deceit without memory of all of this helps the others feel less guilty, they know they can’t fully be forgiven though,

~*warnings*~  blood, hurt/comfort, angst, amnesia, mention of deceit being treated poorly, mention of a hypothetical corpse,

ao3 link 

characters this chapter: deceit, roman, logan, remus (mentioned), patton (mentioned), virgil (mentioned)

all characters that appear in this series:  deceit, roman, logan, remus, patton, virgil, king creativity (mentioned) ~~~~~~~~~

By the time Roman had gotten to the hallway outside of logan's room deceit had fallen asleep, Thoroughly exhausted by the shaky sobs, the anxiety, the probable bleeding, just everything, 

Roman sighed and took a moment to readjust deceit onto a single arm, careful not to jostle him and wake him up, he exhaled in victory and then gently knocked on Logan’s door, waiting patiently,

Less than a minute later Logan opened the door, looking like he'd been working for hours with no break,

Logan looked annoyed at this disturbance “What is it, roman?-“ he was cut off by the small murmur of a displeased deceit not liking people being even remotely loud as he’s sleeping,

Logan raised an eyebrow at Roman but Roman just pointed inside Logan’s room and mouthed ‘not now, inside,’

Logan shook his head to himself and sighed escorting Roman in, Roman carefully placed the curled up side on logans bed, not missing deceit’s arm trying to find him without opening his eyes and waking himself up completely 

Roman chuckled softly and plopped a heated blanket on the side, deceit immediately melted into it, blepping contently, Roman smiled softly, happy that deceit was slightly okayer now

Logan and Roman then walked out of hearing range of deceit 

“Ok care to fill me in? About this?-“ Logan’s eyes lingered on deceit for a moment before going back to Roman -“he has dried blood splotches on his clothes and hair,” he added concerned,

Roman sighed “I think he went in the imagination and something attacked him, I also think he might of hit his head,”

“Are you suggesting amnesia? How are you sure he’s not faking it?”

“For one, when he first saw me he looked genuinely confused, and when he saw the family portrait he started shaking and asked where creativity was, and he started outright sobbing when I told him about the split and that he was gone, I don’t think he-“ he vaguely gestured to deceit -“normally would ever allow us to see him cry,”

Logan nodded, thoughtful, “I mean, either way i don't think any side would fake an ailment, hell i think everyones more likely to hide it then showing it, so it is more likely he had gotten hurt in the imagination and hit his head then him faking it,” he glanced back to deceit “it has changed a lot since king creativity was around, so we’ll have to keep an eye on him, incase something dangerous has changed, or he walks into a wall,” 

Roman nodded, “sounds like a plan,” he smiled briefly before processing the last words “also tHAT WAS ONE TIME, ONE TIME I RAN INTO A WALL AND THIS IS MY TREATMENT?” he gave a hushed shout, crossing his arms, he sighed and tried to change the subject beck to deceit to save his ego, “and we should make him take a bath,”

Logan laughed softly at roman at romans attempt “ok”

———

Eventually deceit fully wakes up, and Logan and Roman can talk to him, 

“Hey, dee, ok so, here’s the thing-“ Roman tried, cutting himself off mid sentence, he didn’t know how to explain to someone that they almost certainly have amnesia or they are really good at acting, which is the statistically less likely, i mean he knows deceits a good actor but just- not about this,

Logan sighed as he knew that it was now his turn at trying to tell him, “ok, we are almost certain you have a case of amnesia,”  

deceit took a moment to process the words before eventually muttering “h*ck” using humor to try and cope and distract himself from what…? Being sad? He didn't know, roman and logan didn't know this though, all they knew was he muttered and somehow censored a verbal word, much to the others confusion because how and why did you censor yourself saying heck,

Logan pinched his brows up in confusion before shaking his head, smiling softly, he then continued “also deceit you need to take a bath,-“ he had barely finished before he heard deceit badly trying to hiss at him, apparently the memory of how to properly hiss was also forgotten,

“Nope! I don’t like baths,” 

“Come on deceit don’t act childish-“ Logan was interrupted again by more hissing,

“No! I don’t care if it’s childish, I don't like demon that water!” He stated getting a sigh from Logan, Logan had never known deceit didn’t like bathes, and that he disliked it to this extent, 

Roman gave Logan a look and tried his turn of telling deceit to not be a nasty gremlin, in the way of dealing with a child, negotiation, “oh so what about this, you take a warm bath to clean off the the dry blood, then when you get out you can wear some warm, clean, comfortable sweaters,” he tried

Deceit stared at roman for a moment before sighing, “fine, i mean i don't have anything better to do, but if the water turns into blood and we find a corpse in the sewers i will personally blame you,”

“Don't worry i’m pretty sure the statistics are not likely,” roman said trying to be reassuring 

“-Ignore him he doesn't know Anything about statistics but it’d be a really shotty murder if so, also we’re not real, its litteraly inpossible for us to find a dead body,” he said making roman gasp in mock-offense

Deceit chuckled and  that was the end of the conversation, roman set up a pretty bubble bath for deceit, even though deceit told him sternly he knew how to set up a bath, roman just didn't listen, humming happily as he suluted himself out and left the bubble bath and deceit alone,

“Hey logan, i wonder how patton and the emo will react to memoryless, sarcastic, easily excitable deceit,”

“I mean we all used to be friends, patton, me, king creativity, virgil, and deceit, i mean if it wasn't thomas growing up being told by school kids and teachers he was stuck with, that lying is always wrong and if your scared your weak and if you have an imagination that's even a little darker than sunshine and rainbows your wrong, the dark sides and light sides wouldn't have become a thing, so maybe we can… try to get that gap we created to be… mended? It was never fair for the dark sides to be treated so unfairly, so maybe… Patton and Virgil will become friends with deceit again?” he trailed off, “...sorry i don't think i really answered your question, i don't know how they’ll react, virgil and patton are probably the most unpredictable of the four of us,”

Roman hummed, “ok, but i think no matter what we have to let patton know about deceit, though it's getting late, and deceits already sobbed once today, so tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow” he agreed