#i’ll never stop hating that his name is romanized by fandom in different ways…

[sparrow-flies-south]

Ten Things Chapter 10

Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairings: Anxceit, Royality Intrulogical Summary: Ten Things I Hate About You AU When  Roman Prince learns that Patton Foster isn’t allowed to date until his  older brother, Virgil, is, Roman is crushed. Roman’s twin brother Remus,  however, comes up with a plan: find someone who is willing to date  Virgil. And who better to ask than Janus Verona, who according to rumours is willing to do anything for the right price? Taglist (ask to be added):  @glitchybina​  @imlikeaghostzombiejesus @someone-idk-is-here @anxiety-ismy-name​ @what-aboutno​ @ellietempest​ @northlight14​

That’s right, I’m back! Been a while, I know, but I really want to push on and finish this! Aiming for fortnightly updates for now.

AO3 Link - Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven  - Chapter Eight  - Chapter Nine

“I’m doing your makeup,” Patton announced, when Virgil came out of his room.

He’d just finished getting ready for the dance – black suit pants, a purple shirt, and in theory a black suit jacket, though he was currently wearing his hoodie. It was still half an hour before Virgil had to leave to go to the dance – he and Janus had decided to meet at the school - but Virgil hadn’t wanted to end up late.

He didn’t want to end up early either, because then he’d be stuck waiting around for Janus by himself.

“Who says I’m wearing makeup?” Virgil asked.

Patton just rolled his eyes, and walked past him into his room. Virgil sighed and sat down on his bed, while Patton starting browsing through Virgil’s eyeshadow supplies. It was… limited, to say the least. He only ever wore black eyeshadow, but he had another pallet that he’d brought once on a whim, but had never plucked up the courage to use.

So it wasn’t really much of a surprise that Patton turned around holding that pallet.

“Are you sure?” Virgil asked.

“It’ll look good, I promise,” Patton reassured him.

Virgil tilted his head so Patton could get a better look and closed his eyes. The brush – something his father had given him after being horrified to learn Virgil was using those disposable applicators – tickled against his skin.

“Nervous?” Patton asked.

“Who, me? Nervous about something? Never,” Virgil replied.

Patton hummed. “You shouldn’t be. This will be fun!”

“Sure,” Virgil said. He lasted about five seconds before adding, “Unless Janus sees me and regrets everything and decides to break up with me.”

“Virgil.”

“It could happen,” Virgil protested.

“Then Janus is an idiot,” Patton said. “If he decided to take you to the dance, why would he back out now?”

“I know,” Virgil said. “I know that’s not going to happen. I just-” he trailed off, not sure what else to say.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Patton asked quietly.

Patton was done with the eyeshadow now, but Virgil still kept his eyes closed. “I like him so much it terrifies me,” Virgil admitted. “I think I might be in love with him.”

“That doesn’t sound very scary,” Patton said.

“It’s scary that I might lose him.”

“You might not,” Patton pointed out. “And even if you do, you’ll still have been happy now. Open your eyes.”

Virgil did so. Patton was holding a mirror up for Virgil to look in. Instead of the usual black smears under his eyes, Patton had used purple glittery eyeshadow.

“Do you like it?” Patton asked.

“I think so,” Virgil said. He tilted his head to get a better look. “What about you? What are you going to wear?”

Patton chewed the inside of his lip. “I, uh, I don’t know yet.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Pat, you’re leaving in like half an hour.”

“I know. I have something, but I’m not sure if I should wear it.”

“I mean, how bad could it be?” When Patton didn’t answer, Virgil added, “Okay, how about this: You go put whatever it is on, and I’ll tell you if wearing it will be social suicide.”

Patton managed a small smile, but he still didn’t look certain. “Right. Thanks, Virgil.”

Patton scurried out of his room, almost running into Remy, who was on his way in.

“So,” Remy said. “You’re going to the dance.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

“With Janus.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t like him.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Nobody likes him.”

“You do,” Remy pointed out, and Virgil didn’t say anything because yeah, he really fucking liked Janus.

“You did say I could date who I wanted,” Virgil said, slightly defensive.

“I did,” Remy admitted. “And you’re a smart kid. So long as he’s not a dick to you, I guess I’ll just have to live with it.”

“Right,” Virgil said, and then, because he had no idea what else he was supposed to say in a situation like this, “Thanks.”

Remy looked like he was about to say something else, when Patton appeared in the doorway.

Virgil hadn’t known what to expect from Patton’s outfit – he was fairly certain most guys would be just wearing suits. He figured Patton was probably just feeling self-conscious – even if that was usually Virgil’s thing.

Instead, Patton was wearing a blue, floor-length dress, with a blue pashmina wrap around his arms.

“Wow,” Remy said. “Patton, you look amazing.”

Patton ducked his head. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You- fuck, you’re all grown up.”

Patton grinned, and then turned to Virgil. “Virgil? What do you think?”

And Virgil – Virgil wasn’t sure. The dress looked good on Patton, there was no denying that, but, well, it was still a dress. And while their school was fairly progressive, Virgil knew first hand that it had its fair share of assholes. It was a risk, and every part of Virgil was hardwired for avoiding risks.

Patton noticed Virgil’s hesitation, and the smile slipped off his face. Crap, now Virgil knew he’d messed up.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Virgil hurried to explain. “It’s just – it makes you stand out. And that can get you hurt.”

“It can,” Patton said. “But maybe some risks are worth taking.”

“And some risks aren’t. Sometimes the best thing to do is to play it safe.”

“But not always,” Patton countered. “And I trust the dress.”

“But does the dress deserve that trust, if it’s already hurt you before?”

“That wasn’t the dress’s fault. The dress was just trying to help.”

“Okay,” Remy interrupted. “Virgil, Patton, my sons, the lights of my life, the only things in this world I love more than coffee, I am begging you, please stop pretending you’re talking about formalwear here.”

Virgil grimaced, and looked at Patton.

“Janus could hurt you,” Patton pointed out.

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not you,” Virgil said. “It’s- I’m supposed to keep you safe.”

“But you can’t, not completely. The world doesn’t work like that. There’s always a risk of being hurt, so why shouldn’t I take a risk of being happy first?”

Virgil sighed, and slumped his shoulders. “I still don’t like him. Or trust him. But I guess I can learn to… tolerate him. And I am happy for you.”

Patton smiled. “I’m happy for you, too. Really, I am.”

“Great, glad that’s cleared up,” Remy said. “Now, speaking of staying safe, I know you’re young and have all sorts of feelings, so: whatever you do, make sure you use protection.”

“Oh, God,” Virgil muttered. “I can’t deal with this.”

“Dad!” Patton squeaked. “I’m not planning on doing anything like that.”

Before Remy could answer, there was a knock at the door, saving all three of them.

“That’s Roman!” Patton cried. He ran his hands over his skirt. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll love it, Pat,” Virgil said.

Patton grinned, and hurried to the door. He hesitated a moment, and straightened out his dress. It was fine, Virgil had said it would be fine, and Roman was the only one who’s opinion he cared about, anyway. He took a deep breath, and flung open the door.

Roman’s eyes widened as soon as he saw Patton. He himself was – well, he was wearing a red ball gown, with a white jacket over it.

“Hi,” Patton said, feeling better about his own dress.

But Roman didn’t answer, instead, he just kept staring at Patton.

Patton fidgeted at his skirt nervously. “Is something wrong? If you don’t like it, I can go change-”

“No,” Roman cried, a little too loud. “No, I mean, it’s- wow.” Roman grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. You look amazing, Patton.”

Patton felt his cheeks heat up. “Oh, it’s nothing, I just saw it in the shop and thought ‘hey, that looks really cool’, you know? You look really good too. I mean, you probably look any better than me. Not that’s it a competition or anything, but- I’m going to stop talking now.”

Roman laughed, but it was the fond kind of laugh, like they were both in on the joke. He held out one arm. “Well, Mr Foster, will you accompany me to the dance?”

Patton giggled and took the arm. “Why yes, Mr Prince, I think I will.”

 Janus was about half a second away from snapping and leaving.

Students and their dates filtered in around him, crossing the parking lot where he was waiting on their way to the school gym. He saw Roman and Patton go by, both wearing dresses, and Roman shot Janus a smug look that Janus refused to think about.

And here Janus was, waiting for his date to arrive for a dance. At school.

Janus was rather certain that this would end up being a disaster, somehow.

A familiar car pulled up and Janus straightened. Virgil looked uncomfortable as he got out, though as soon as he saw Janus, he froze and stared. Janus went still, wondering what it was Virgil was staring at, if he really looked that terrible. He forced himself to not let it show on his face, to stroll over as if he had no concern in the world.

“Something wrong?” Janus asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Virgil blinked, and seemed to come back into himself. “You, uh, you look really good,” he admitted, and Janus was certain Virgil was blushing under his foundation.

Oh. Janus hadn’t expected that. He’d been told he looked handsome, of course, but not since the accident. He’d considered wearing makeup to cover it up and eventually decided against it. What would the point be, when everyone already knew what he looked like?

“Oh,” Janus said. “Thank you.” Virgil’s eyeshadow was different today, purple instead of the usual black. “You look good, too.”

They’d ended up coordinating by accident, as Virgil’s suit had a purple shirt, while Janus’ had a yellow one. Though while Virgil had left it at that, Janus had gone further, adding a bow tie, a bowler hat and a pair of yellow gloves to the outfit, because if Janus was here, he was going to make sure everyone knew about it.

“Right,” Virgil said, not sounding convinced, though he still smiled at the complement. Janus chalked that up as a win.

“Shall we?” Janus asked, gesturing to the school. Virgil nodded and they both walked inside together.

Inside, the gym was packed with people. Most were dancing, though there were some sat in the chairs dotted around the edge of the room and talking. How they were able to hear themselves over the blaring of the music – some pop song that Janus didn’t care to identify – was a mystery. On the opposite side of the hall to the entrance was a make-shift bar serving mocktails, which already had a cluster of people surrounding it.

Virgil stopped in the entrance, and Janus stopped next to him. He reached out and grabbed Janus’ hand, tight. Janus watched his face, so he’d be able to tell if he needed to drag Virgil somewhere quieter, but after a moment, Virgil nodded and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

They moved further into the gym, so they were out of the way of the entrance.

“Shall we dance?” Janus suggested.

He wasn’t expecting Virgil to agree, not yet. He imagined Virgil would need a while to acclimatise first, like a swimmer getting into a cold pool. But Virgil surprised him by straightening his shoulders and nodding.

It was Virgil that led the way onto the dance floor. And Janus was struck by the horrifying realisation that he didn’t know how to dance.

He’d learned to dance as a kid, back when his parents still liked to trot him out at parties, but that had been formal dances. He barely ever went to house parties, and when he did, he’d never danced at them. So far, he’d managed to avoid the issue with Virgil.

“You okay?” Virgil asked – or rather, Janus guessed that Virgil was asking that by his lips, he couldn’t actually hear him over the music.

“I can’t dance,” Janus admitted, having to shout embarrassingly loud to be heard.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he smiled, though it wasn’t mocking. He took Janus’ hands and began to move.

“Just- do what feels right,” Virgil said.

That didn’t sound right, compared to all the rules from childhood, but he followed Virgil’s lead. It felt awkward at first, but as the songs changed, he began to get into it. As it turned out, his parent’s lessons had actually left him with a good sense of rhythm.

Virgil laughed as Janus spun him, and then the music changed, from the poppy nonsense to a slower song. This was closer to what Janus was used to, and he took advantage of that whole-heartedly, pulling Virgil closer to him and beginning to slow dance.

That close to each other, and with Virgil staring into his eyes, Janus couldn’t stop himself from leaning forwards and kissing him. Virgil returned the kiss, but as soon as they were done, he pulled away, and led Janus to the side of the room.

“Are you okay?” Janus asked.

“Fine,” Virgil said. “I just need a minute.”

Janus nodded, and scanned the room for a quite spot. He found one, and led Virgil over to it.

“Do you need anything?” Janus asked.

Virgil shrugged, and then said, “Maybe a drink?”

Janus nodded. “Wait here,” he said, and crossed the room to the bar, which was currently crowded. A well timed glare was enough to drive a few people away, but still more didn’t seem to notice him.

Back by the wall, Virgil watched Janus, then looked around the room. He spotted Patton, dancing with Roman. They looked lost in each other, but somehow, Patton noticed him and waved. Virgil smiled and gave a two fingered salute back. Roman followed Patton’s gaze and looked over. His face seemed to freeze when he saw Virgil, and Virgil had to fight not to laugh at it.

Roman did manage an awkward nod, though, and Virgil returned it, and then Patton pulled Roman’s attention away and said something to him, and they were lost in the crowd of dancers again.

He didn’t notice Luc until Luc was right beside him. Virgil scowled.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I need to talk to you,” Luc said.

“Cool,” Virgil said flatly, and he started walking away. Luc grabbed Virgil’s arm. Virgil glared at him. “Let go of me.”

Luc sneered. “You think you’re such hot shit with your boyfriend, don’t you?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one who spends all my time mad about something that happened years ago.”

Luc’s face darkened. “You really think you’re better than me,” he said. “You don’t even know how pathetic you are. It really was only Janus Verona who was willing to date you.”

Virgil tensed. “Whatever you’re talking about, I don’t care,” he said.

“What do you think Roman did to convince him?” Luc asked. “I’d guess money, but Roman didn’t even seem to think you were worth that.”

“What are you talking about?” Virgil asked.

Luc laughed. “You think Janus just happened to fall head over heels with you? Roman was running around the whole school looking for someone he could convince to date you. Something about wanting to date your brother.”

Virgil went cold. New rule, his father had said, weeks ago. Patton can date when Virgil does.

Luc was full of shit, but there were only a handful of people who knew about that rule. Virgil and Patton, of course, and Logan was also a given, but he wouldn’t have said anything to Luc. Roman would probably know, too. And it was the Monday after that Janus had first spoken to him, had first taken an interest.

He’d later said he’d been impressed by what Virgil had said in English, but the first time they’d spoken had been before that English class. And now that he thought about it, Virgil realised that Janus had never explained it. He hadn’t explained a lot of things, for that matter.

“Is there a problem?” Janus’ smooth voice cut in, and Virgil flinched. Janus had returned, carrying two cups, and he was glaring at Luc.

“Probably,” Luc said, before turning and disappearing. Virgil barely noticed him go. Something very loud was thundering in his ears.

“Hey,” Janus said. “What’s wrong? What did he say?”

“Why did you ask me out?” Virgil asked.

“What?”

“You never spoke to me. I don’t think you even noticed me, and then suddenly you asked me out. Why?”

Janus’ face shuttered. “What did Luc say?” he asked, and well, that just about proved everything, didn’t it?

“No ulterior motive, huh?” Virgil said flatly, and he started walking away.

He couldn’t be here, couldn’t be with Janus, couldn’t be in this hall. He needed to get out, get away, to somewhere this all made sense.

“Virgil, wait,” Janus said, following. Virgil pushed his way out of the doors of the gym, into the now empty corridor outside. A few seconds later, Janus followed.

“Tell me he was wrong about the money,” Virgil said, because if so then maybe-

But Janus froze, and for a liar he was very bad at hiding his facial expressions.

“Oh,” Virgil said.

“Virgil-” Janus tried.

Virgil laughed shakily. “I knew something was up. What was it, half up front, and half when I slept with you?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I didn’t care about the money, I only cared about you.”

And Virgil really, really wanted to believe that, to believe that everything could be okay. But Virgil couldn’t trust Janus, not now. He shook his head and stepped away from him.

“Virgil, please.”

“Don’t,” Virgil snarled. “Just- get the fuck out of my life, okay?”

He turned and stormed away before Janus could say anything else, before Janus could keep lying, the way he had been lying the whole time they’d known each other.

Virgil should have known.

Should have known better than to trust someone like Janus. Should have known better than to think anyone would be interested in him.

This time, he managed to make it all the way out of the school before someone else called his name.

“Virgil!” Patton.

Virgil kept walking, not in the mood to see anyone, but apparently that wasn’t enough to stop Patton. He caught up to Virgil and grabbed his arm. Virgil pulled his arm away, but stopped walking.

“What happened?” Patton asked, concern etched onto his face. “You seemed so happy, and then you were storming away.” Virgil didn’t respond, so Patton kept trying. “I saw Janus. He seemed upset. Did- did you get into a fight?”

A fight was one way to put it. God, he’d been so stupid.

And if Janus and Roman had been conspiring together, who else had?

Luc had said that Roman was the one responsible, but the whole thing had helped Patton, too. And Patton had seemed so upset when Remy had told them they weren’t able to date.

Patton had been the one to ask Virgil to go to the party, because he’d been able to see Roman there. And then Virgil and Janus had spent the whole time together.

“Did you know?” Virgil asked, horror growing within him.

“Know what?”

“About Janus. About Roman, and what they-“ Virgil shook his head. “Were you- were you laughing behind my back this whole time?”

“Virgil, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, why don’t you come inside, okay? You can tell me what happened.”

Virgil shook his head. “Stop,” he snapped. “Just- leave me alone, okay? This is all your fault.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Patton alone. Tears were pricking at his eyes, but he couldn’t let himself cry, not yet. He made it to his car, and it was as if something else was controlling him as he got in, started the car, and began to drive home.

He glanced back in the rear-view mirror before leaving the parking lot, just in case someone was still out there, trying to talk to him.

But no one was, and so Virgil drove into the night alone.

[today-only-happens-once]

😈

😈 - Opinion on Virgil?

MY BOY. My poor anon, you have opened floodgates you may not have meant to unleash but... Get ready for an essay because I could talk for hours about Virgil--

The short version is this: I love him so much. 

The long version is this:

I’ve liked Virgil for as long as I’ve been in the fandom (having joined around the time CLBG came out). He’s shown so much growth. I know we talk about how the other characters used to treat Virgil (especially Roman given recent developments), but there’s something to be said for Virgil’s own growth too. He summed it up brilliantly in LNTAO: “you once knew me as real gloomy, this weird spooky, broody dude/because I knew you’d listen to me as too scary to ignore./I thought I could take it, all the hate could just be shaken but when lo--CARE for someone nothing hurts more than their scorn./I also felt bad in a different way./By bad I mean, well, mean, but I did what I thought that I had to/which was bad, too. I don’t have to act all tough [sometimes love is enough or what we need.]”

I love how hard--how desperately--Virgil tries to protect them all. He got them out of his room, and I loved how Virgil was the voice of calm in that moment, guiding Thomas. I loved how lost he seems in Moving On, and how that lostness is explained when he says something like “I’ve always been the one to worry about losing the people you loved. And that happened. And I haven’t known what to do since.” Virgil cares so freaking much and I’m always a sucker for characters that are earnest. And Virgil is, even if he’s gotten very good at masking it. 

And then there’s how Virgil seems to recognize the insecurities of the other Sides (tis a headcanon of mine that virgil is especially attuned to the anxieties of the individual Sides given his function). And he calls it out, y’know? I turn, again, to LNTAO when he tells Roman “no one hates you” and tells Logan “you’re lost/it’s okay/I was lost once too but thanks to all of you life sucks less now”. Virgil wants them to be okay, and he wants to help them get there. He’s not aways... tactful ( “you get super insecure for some reason and when that happens, the work suffers” and “Logan’s gotta cool it with the deadlines”, etc.) but he tries, god bless him. 

And then he had to tell confess to Thomas that he used to be one of the Others, and... just... the look on his face:

I will never emotionally recover from the tears in his eyes. (And yes, sure, I know Thomas (the real actor person) has said that he was emotional when filming this part because of how long they’d spent building to it but... they used this take for a reason). Virgil is so afraid, I think, and that fear is rooted in that honest earnestness that he hides away but cannot hide entirely. He loves Thomas so much. And he so boldly lays this vulnerable part of him open to Thomas in the name of Thomas being more honest with himself no matter what reaction that may land him and it’s....

It’s such an act of selflessness in my opinion. I don’t like to use the word “stan”, personally, but I’d go to war for Virgil. He tries so hard to protect them all and I feel like he feels like a part of himself is failing in that. He essentially said as much right before this moment above. And I just...

I love him so, so much, and I want good things for him. (And I desperately want him to use the “love” word because I see potential for that to be quite the emotional moment). I’ll stop rambling now because I cannot think of a clean way to tie this all together and otherwise, I’ll just keep rambling. 

Sorry for the long post, friendo!

[inactiive-shit]

Burning

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Warnings: allusions to rough past

Pairing: platonic dukexiety

Words: 1,988

Summary: Virgil needs a goddamn hug.

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Virgil came from a rough and tumble kind of place. There wasn’t much physical contact with each other and what there was usually wasn’t affectionate. Virgil was used to not being touched or being hurt with almost no in-between. Hugs were rarer than a blue moon and cuddling? It’s safe to say that was an entirely alien concept.

But Virgil’s twenty-six now. He’s had plenty of time to outgrow his aversion to touch, plenty of time to get over it, plenty of time to make friends that wouldn’t punch him before they patted his shoulder. And, well, he had. Sort of.

Enter Patton and Roman, who were soft and kind and the touchiest of touchy-feely people that Virgil had ever met. They were always trying to dispense hugs and pleased smiles and pats and gifts and, if Virgil were being honest, he could not even imagine either of them throwing a punch. Then, enter Logan. He wasn’t the same kind of overbearingly physical person. He rarely initiated hugs, although he equally rarely turned them down when they were offered. He was much more reserved than Virgil’s other friends, much more like Virgil, and Virgil could imagine Logan getting into a scrape or two.

But nobody touched Virgil. That was by Virgil’s own design, had nothing to do with any particular feelings he held about his three friends. Hugs were just...a lot. And especially for someone with as little experience with them as Virgil had. He’d tried to explain it once, tried to put into words the expectations he had whenever someone moved toward him. He tried to make them understand that it wasn’t them, it was just that Virgil was used to a different kind of living where hugs had never been the norm. But Patton had looked ready to cry and Roman was affronted and even Logan, Logan who wanted almost just as much alone time as Virgil, had looked horrified. How was it possible, they wanted to know, that Virgil had gone so long without being treated with care?

He hated to see those looks on the others’ faces, hated a fraction more the looks they sent at him after that were barely to the left of pitying, so he took it back as best he could. It really hadn’t been that bad, don’t worry about it, all the usual phrases and eventually he persuaded them to drop it. So they stopped trying to touch Virgil all that much, and Virgil convinced himself that he wasn’t jealous of the casual affection they threw around like confetti. Virgil did his best to pretend his feigned indifference was real, and that he didn’t want touch just as much as he loathed the thought of it.

And then, one day, he met someone new. This person was a lot like him, rough around the edges like a ripped newspaper, but soft enough that he wouldn’t cut your fingers. He showed affection by punching others’ shoulders or throwing himself full-body on top of them. He wore the most ridiculous outfits that Virgil had ever seen, and he never seemed to care that he was the weirdest person in the room.

His name was Remus. He was Roman’s twin brother, although the similarities between them were almost impossible to find. He had a white streak in his hair that he denied ever putting there himself and, truthfully, nobody had ever seen it happen. He had no qualms about treating Virgil just the same as he treated every other person he came into contact with, and that’s about the time Virgil really started to realize he had a problem.

His skin burned whenever anyone touched it and he could feel an imprint of them on him long after they had left. There was an ache in his chest when he thought about getting a hug and despite having as many good, caring friends as he had now, Virgil felt more lonely than ever.

Remus, despite Roman’s misgivings about his brother, ended becoming an integral part of their group, and he continued to unknowingly supply Virgil with physical contact at their every interaction. It was equally wanted and unwanted, equally loved and hated, and Virgil kept coming back for more. And as much as the ache in Virgil’s chest intensified, as much as the burning on his skin kept him awake at night, Virgil never said a word about it to anyone.

Touch starved. It didn’t sound real, like something that could actually affect people. More than that, though, it was embarrassing. How could he even broach the subject? Hey, guys. So there’s this thing I found out about called touch starvation and it turns out I have it. And I could really use some pats on the back right about now, I swear I’m not making this up for attention. Yeah, that would go over great. Instead, Virgil took whatever he got when he bumped against a stranger on accident and mind his own business.

It was working out for him as well as you’d expect when something he had never planned on happened. He’d been having a panic attack, an occurrence that had been more common than Virgil liked, and he’d been entirely content to suffer through on his own and pretend everything was fine after, but then Remus walked into the room like a wrecking ball, all loud noises and erratic movement, and Virgil flinched. He flinched and tried not to cry because crying was the best way to make someone mad at you and also maybe the best way to expose yourself.

Remus, though? He stopped being loud and bouncing and sat down slowly in front of Virgil. Virgil couldn’t seem him too clearly through the tears in his eyes, but Remus might have been concerned. There was some movement, like he might have been talking, but Virgil could hear the static in his head and nothing else, could hear impending doom and forever alone like a war drum coming at him, could feel the vibrations running through his hands and shaking his very bones.

Suddenly, clear as day, he could hear Remus’s voice like a bell ringing, “Can I hug you?” Virgil gasped and hesitated. A hug? Would a hug just make things worse? It always seemed to but maybe not, can things even get worse from here? He nodded and Remus’s arms wrapped around him and held him so securely it almost felt like there were eight limbs keeping him safe.

The static changed frequency, changed color, changed channels and instead of the cold, impersonal, overwhelming static in his head like before it turned warm and encompassing but not altogether bad. Virgil choked on a sob and buried his face in Remus’s shoulder, shuddering, trying to figure out why he wanted to keep burning like this.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Remus said. “I’ll skin whatever hurt you.” He kept a tight hold on Virgil, kept holding him until he stopped crying and pulled away. Virgil wiped his face off with a sleeve, thoroughly embarrassed. That was unnecessary and stupid and he really should be in better control of himself so that things like that didn’t happen.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sniffling.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Stormcloud. Are you hurt?” Virgil shook his head, unable to force himself to make eye contact with Remus after such an episode. Remus’s hand ghosted over Virgil’s cheek and he flinched away, feeling the streak of a burn where their skin had barely come into contact. Remus withdrew his hand quickly. Virgil was almost sad to see it go.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I just have panic attacks sometimes,” Virgil said, and that was true enough. In fact, he couldn’t even remember what the catalyst for this attack had been or if there was something he needed to go do now that he was back to functional. Virgil was totally spent and more than ready for a nap.

“Yikes,” said Remus. There was a few minutes of silence while Virgil swiped the last of the tears from his face and destroyed his eyeliner and steadied his breathing so that he wouldn’t be a total mess when he finally left whatever room his panic had holed him up in. What he wanted to do more than anything right then was gather himself, make his excuses, and go back to his own room where he could hold onto his body pillow and bury himself in enough blankets that it felt like another person was laying on top of him.

“Are you touch starved?” Remus asked, voice sudden and surprising and observational skills much better than Virgil had anticipated they would be. He jolted, glancing quickly to Remus’s face before looking away and fighting the urge to cower behind his hands. “You flinch whenever anybody reaches toward you and I’ve never seen anyone touch you and you’re freezing. Do you need another hug?”

“No,” Virgil said, shrinking away from the prospect. He was still burning like a star ready to implode but more than that no one was supposed to know because it was Virgil’s problem to figure out, Virgil’s issue to work out without having to involve other people like this.

“No to which?” Remus asked, but then he gently laid his hand on the ground between them, palm up, and hummed. “We can just hold hands if you want.” Hesitantly, Virgil reached out and took Remus’s hand. It was rough and warm and alive and human. Virgil felt a shiver run through his body at the contact but he forced himself to keep it. If Remus was offering, if Remus understood the situation, then as awkward as Virgil felt, this was okay. There was nothing wrong with this and Virgil...Virgil really didn’t think Remus was going to hurt him.

“How did you know?” Virgil whispered, voice cracking over the syllables. He might cry again if they weren’t careful.

“Been there, done that,” Remus said, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “Everything kinda sucks though, so I made myself start touching other people and then they started touching me back. Not great at it all the time, but,” he shrugged, “I’m not so cold anymore.” Virgil couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face whatever was happening right now, so he sat quietly and did his best to take it in. God knew when the next time he’d get something like this would be.

“If you want,” Remus said slowly, “I could help you. We could hold hands and slowly work up to bigger things like hugs until you’re not so skin-hungry anymore.” Virgil internally winced at the term, but externally he was finally looking at Remus, staring in total shock that he would offer something like that.

“Why?” Virgil blurted, confusion swirling and making him feel almost nauseous.

“Because you’re my friend,” Remus said, and he sounded just as confused as Virgil felt. “And I love you. And I may or may not have developed a squish on you. I want to help because I care.” He smiled slightly, and to Virgil it looked kind of sad but not in a way that made him feel bad.

“I...I…” Virgil didn’t know what to say, how to say yes to what Remus was offering or how to make sense of it all in his head.

“It’s okay,” Remus said, running his thumb over the back of Virgil’s hand and causing an involuntary shiver. “We can talk about it later. For now let’s just hang out. Do you want me to talk?” Virgil nodded, figuring that at least with some kind of non-touch stimulation he might be able to refocus. Remus started talking about something, Virgil couldn’t recall what later, and Virgil realized that maybe tackling this with Remus wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe he didn’t have to suffer through on his own like he thought.

Maybe, just maybe, Virgil could finally stop burning.

[shuttymcshutfuck]

I think they’ll take care of me

Fictober day 22: “and neither should you.”

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Rating: General

Type: Hurt/comfort (Human AU)

Word count: 1,401

Relationships: none but can be read as Moxiety

Characters: Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders

TW: Chronic pain, crying, overworking, hiding pain, loss of appetite (due to pain)

Ao3 link // Fictober Masterpost

At this point, Patton felt like he should be used to it. He knew that it was just a luck of the draw but that still didn’t make anything easier.

or,Patton's in pain and he needs to stop hiding it.

At this point, Patton felt like he should be used to it. He knew that it was just a luck of the draw but that still didn’t make anything easier. Especially with the weather getting colder recently and the lift to his apartment had yet to be fixed. So maybe it wasn’t luck of the draw but either way it wasn’t his fault. He had made the mistake of thinking his pain wasn’t too bad today - something he usually underestimates - so he didn’t bring his cane out with him. As soon as he managed to climb the three flights of stairs to his shared apartment and got through the door, he collapsed in a heap of jackets and bags on the sofa.

“Hey Pat, is that you?” Virgil called from the other room. Patton loved living with his friends, they were practically a little family by now. The only drawback was that Patton barely ever told them if he was in pain, which meant instead of being able to just flop on the couch after a rough day there was always a chance he’d be summoned to help with something.

“Yeah, it’s me kiddo!” Patton shouted back. He was used to Virgil shouting through the apartment instead of getting up. Or if any of them were asleep, just texting each other.

“Could come here for a sec please? I need a hand with something!” Patton's body ached at the thought but he didn’t want to be rude. It was just a little bit of pain after all. He would help Virgil, make dinner for Logan and Roman coming in and then have a bath. Baths helped, mostly when they were practically scolding hot but, the brief half an hour where his pain was muted down was worth it.

“Will do, let me just pop down my bags!” Fake enthusiasm rang through the air as Patton sluggishly pulled himself to his feet trying to ignore the shot of pain going down into his leg from his left hip. It turned out Virgil just needed his opinion on what sort of stitching to use for his newest school assignment so he wasn’t needed long. That meant he had to start the task of making dinner. He loved making dinner for everyone but standing for that long wasn’t the best idea on a good day, nevermind when he was already in a lot of pain.

By the time he finished making dinner his hip was continuously shooting pain down his leg making his appetite almost completely vanish. Patton ate as much as he could and then offered to clear the table like he usually did once everyone had vanished off into their own rooms. He made sure nobody was in the main room before getting up because he knew it was going to be hard. And he was right, he tried not to make any noise but it was too much. He accidentally let out a squeak when a particularly sharp pang of pain shot through his leg.

“Pat, you okay?” Patton watched Virgil walk through slowly at first, take one look at him and practically run the rest of the way. “Patton, what’s wrong?” Patton tried to shrug it off. He was fine after all, it was just a little bit of pain. Nothing he couldn’t deal with. He opened his mouth to reply but before he could Virgil held up a finger “And I swear if you say it’s nothing.”

“I’m just a little sore, that’s all.” Patton felt another pang shoot down in leg and winced slightly, trying to put on a smile for Virgil but it poorly concealed it. Virgil held out his arm which Patton took, letting himself be led to the couch while putting a bit of his weight onto Virgil instead of his leg. The couch wasn’t that much better but it took a little bit of the pressure off so it was something. 

“How long has it been hurting?” Virgil has a concerned look on his face that made Patton feel incredibly guilty. He moved his gaze from Virgil's face, staring at his hands instead.

“It only started getting bad when I was on my way home from university.” Patton curled in on himself slightly, preparing himself for whatever was about to come out of Virgil’s mouth. He didn’t talk about his pain much because it didn’t tend to get good reactions from his old friend group and his family. He had opened up a little to his friends now but they didn’t even know he had a cane. He never used it because he was terrified but they still didn't know things were that severe. As far as Patton was aware, everyone knew he had joint pain from time to time. He might have mentioned the specific name once or twice but he didn’t think they remembered it. 

“Why didn’t you say something? One of us could’ve made dinner and we all could have helped clear the table.” Patton sighed.

“I didn’t want to bother any of you.” It was Virgil’s turn to sigh and Patton could feel it in his soul. He hated disappointing people. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” Patton felt Virgil take his hand and squeeze it, making him meet his eyes.

“And neither should you. Now, what can I do to help?” Even this small inkling of comfort made Patton tear up. “Oh, I’m sorry-” Patton interrupted before Virgil had the chance to fully spiral.

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. I’m just- I’m just so tired.” Patton sniffed and leaned his head on Virgil’s shoulder. 

“How about I go run you a bath and I’ll get Logan and Roman to help me do the dishes?” Patton couldn’t help but relax a little at the idea. He felt bad for pushing stuff onto his friends but he was so tired he didn’t think he could argue with Virgil about it.

“Okay,” Patton sighed and let Virgil help him to his room before shooting off to the adjoining bathroom to start running the bath. He had to admit that the bath was great, Virgil really knew what he was doing. The whole room smelt of lavender, there were candles casting a warm light over the room and the bath was the perfect temperature that made Patton melt. It was so relaxing by the end he could barely keep his eyes open. He sat on his bed for a few minutes before he got changed into pyjama’s Virgil had left on his freshly made bed. He would’ve climbed into bed there and then had he not heard whispering coming from the living room.

As Patton wandered through to investigate he found Virgil, Roman and Logan all in their pyjamas waiting on the couch. The room was lit by fairy lights Roman must have brought through from his room. There was a stack of dvds by the coffee table and multiple blankets of all different colours from each of their personal collections. 

“What is all this?” Patton barely spoke over a whisper, his heart was too full with emotions and his body was too tired. Virgil patted the space beside him on the couch and Patton came to sit. 

“We wanted to surprise you with a little movie night.” Logan spoke softly from his designated arm chair, wrapped up in a constellation patterned blanket. Roman wrapped a red blanket with a white teddy bear blanket lining around Patton before heading towards the tv. 

“Any requests?” Patton smiled and shook his head. “If you’re sure.” Roman shrugged and started looking through the piles, pulling one out and waving it. “How about tangled?”

“Sounds good to me, Kiddo.” Roman nodded and set it up before leaping over the table to snuggle back under his red blanket with gold embroidered roses on the corners. With the warm of the blankets Patton could feel himself slowly start to drift off as much as he tried to stay awake. 

“You can sleep Pat, we’ll be here when you wake up.” Virgil whispered. Patton just hummed and rested his head on Virgil’s shoulder. He felt Virgil shift slightly underneath him so that Patton could lie down a bit more, his legs over Romans lap and his head on Virgil's chest. It was to the sounds of Rapunzel singing to Flynn Rider and Virgil’s heartbeat that Patton fell asleep.

[deadanddeactivated]

Jocks and Goths

Fandom: Sanders Sides, Highschool au Pairing: Intruality Characters: Thomas, Logan, Remus, Deceit, Roman, Virgil, Patton Notes: Day 17 for @tsshipmonth2020 - intruality.  No this was not written before Dukceit day, I’ve literally written this since posting that.  Sometimes fics take three weeks and sometimes they take two hours.  This took two hours. Summary:   One's a Goth, one's a Jock. They never really meant to become friends.

AO3

--

Even since moving to Sides High, Patton has successfully managed to avoid Remus Duke.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy, although he did find a lot of what Remus said to be… unnerving.  And the other did have really large, very toned, mildly terrifying muscles.  Plus everything he did was loud enough Patton sometimes flinched.

But!  It wasn’t that Patton thought he was bad or anything!!  It’s not bad that Remus is healthy, and it’s not Remus’ fault that Patton overhears things, and maybe Remus’ doesn’t mean to be so loud.  Patton has nothing against the man himself.

Virgil, however, does. 

Patton’s not sure what happened between Virgil and Remus, because it happened before Patton transferred to the school.  He’s pretty sure it had something to do with a romantic relationship?  Whatever it was, it left the two with a horrible, terrible relationship.  They don’t get on, at all.  And since Patton is Virgil’s friend (since Virgil is Patton’s first and only friend) doesn’t that mean Patton has to share that grudge?  Virgil’s never said Patton can’t be friends with Remus, they’ve never even talked about Remus, but Patton’s pretty sure that’s like… a Friend Rule, or something.  

The point is, Patton has managed never to say a word to Remus one way or the other.  A carefully held record that’s ruined when they’re paired up for a history assignment.

Okay, Patton tells himself, this’ll be fine.  It’s just an assignment, surely Virgil won’t mind.  Right?

“Patton Heart, right?”  Remus says his name and it takes everything in Patton not to flinch.

“That’s um, that’s me.”  He mumbles, letting his pastel blue hair fall in his eyes as he avoids looking at Remus.

“Great.”  Remus grins, dragging a seat to Patton’s desk and sitting in it the wrong way round.  “You got your heart set on anything for this because I think we should do Bloody Mary, or maybe Genghis Khan, oh!  Or Vlad the Impaler!” 

“That sounds a bit… graphic.”  Patton says.  For their project they have to represent a historical figure and the impact they had on the world from a ‘unique’ angle (Virgil would probably complain about how vague the word ‘unique’ was, or maybe he’d complain that Patton has to work with Remus for the project.  Should Patton even tell him?)

“Yeah!”  Remus grins, like that’s a positive thing. 

“Can we do someone that didn’t cause so much bloodshed?”  Patton asks. 

“I mean, I guess.  If you can think of anyone more interesting.”  Remus says, sighing like it’s some big request.  

“I, um, I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head.”  Patton admits, wincing.  Remus lets out an exaggerated hum.

“Okay, meet me in the library after school.  We can try and find someone.”  He suggests.

“Okay.”  Patton agrees meekly.  Satisfied, Remus gets up from the chair and moves to a different group.  A group that has popular people with tone muscles and busy lives.

God, Patton thinks with a sigh, this is going to be a long project.  Any project with a jock was doomed to be long.

--

“You want to get ice-cream or something?”  Virgil asks Patton after school that day.  Rare is the day Virgil doesn’t have some show rehearsal to get to - lights to set up, props to organize, actors to chase down.  The life of a theatre geek is never boring, he often tells Patton, especially a theatre techie.

Which just makes Patton feel all the worse for having to say no.

“I’m sorry.”  He says.  “I have to work on a group project for history.”

“Who’d you get stuck with?”  Virgil asks.  Patton hesitates but he can’t exactly lie to Virgil, can he?  Just hope that Virgil doesn’t get annoyed.

“...Remus.”  He admits.

“Ouch.”  Virgil says with a wince.  “Good luck keeping him on track for long enough to finish a project.”

“We have to pick a historical figure and everyone he’s suggesting is really gory and brutal.”  Patton says, feeling physical relief that Virgil doesn't seem to care.

“Sounds like Remus.”  Virgil huffs, rolling with his eyes.  “Maybe pick a doctor, that should have enough blood and gore to keep him interested.”

“Oh!”  Patton lights up as an idea comes to him.  “Mary Seacole!  Virgil, you’re the best.”

“I try.”  Virgil grins.

--

Remus likes the idea of doing the unrated nurse from the crimean war and so they quickly get to work.

And they quickly get distracted from work, too, because it seems impossible for Remus to keep his mind on any one thing.  At first it’s… well, Patton doesn’t like it.  He just wants to get this project done and over with.

But then Remus wears him down.

“I’m just saying, names influence who we are in like.  I mean, just look at Ms Maricolt!  She looks like a horse!”  Remus says at some point near the end of the second day and Patton really, really doesn’t mean to laugh because it’s Remus and the joke is a little mean.  But it’s also a pun, and Patton has a soft spot for puns.

“That’s mean.”  He says once he’s collected himself, if only out of principle.

“But it got you to laugh!��  Remus grins.  “And to look at me.”  He adds.  

Oh, Patton realizes as he quickly looks away again.  He hadn’t noticed he hadn’t looked at Remus.

“Aw, no, don’t look away again I like your eyes!  They’re really eye-inspiring.”  The pun is bad, really bad, but Patton still chuckles.

“That was terrible.”  He complains.

“Are you remus-manding.”  Remus continues, grinning.

“Oh my gosh.”  Patton laughs.  “They’re getting worse!”

“Aw, don’t be like that.  I think I’m Patt-on the right direction.”  Remus says.

“I Seacole what you’re doing here, it’s bad.”  Patton returns, laughing at Remus’ gasp.

“Oh it is on goth-boy.”  He decides.  They don’t do any more studying that day, distracted by their pun-off.

--

“So are we meeting up again tomorrow?”  Patton asks the next day as they back up.

“Can’t do tomorrow, I’ve got training.”  Remus shakes his head.  

“Oh, right.”  Patton says.  

“You could come if you want.”  Remus suggests. 

“I don’t think that’s really my crowd.”  Patton mumbles.  He can just picture it now, Patton sitting in his black attire, the only colour his blue hair, while the popular kids are right there.  Definitely within name calling distance.  

Nevermind what Virgil would think.  God, Patton doesn’t even want to imagine how bad his best friend would be.

“You’ll fit in just fine!”  Remus claims.  “Or, maybe not.  But I’ll make sure everyone leaves you alone.”  

“I think Virgil and I were heading out anyway.”  Patton says and then immediately regrets it as a frown takes over Remus’ face.  Like he’s tasted a lemon or something else unpleasant.  Oh no, now Remus was going to hate him.  Maybe he’ll tell Virgil he and Patton were almost-friends and then Virgil will hate him too and Patton will go back to being the friendless loser all over again. 

“Sorry.”  Remus’ voice cuts through his panic, making Patton look up.

“Huh?”  Patton frowns, confused.

“You looked like you were freaking out a bit.”  Remus says.  “I didn’t mean to stress you out.  Virgil and I just don’t get on.  Bad breakup and all that, but that’s on us not you.”

“Oh.”  Patton says, though he can’t say anything Remus just said commuted just now.

“Hey!  Pass me your phone, I’ll put my number in so we can study on the weekend.”  Remus decides, changing the subject before Patton can catch up.  Patton does what he’s told and soon he has a new number in his phone labeled ‘Hot Jock’.  “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.”  Patton says.  “Um, bye.”

--

The project lasts two weeks and in those two weeks Patton and Remus chat.  A lot.  They talk during their study sessions, they text each other all the time, Remus even gives him a wave when they pass each other in the hall.

It’s official, they aren’t ‘almost friends’ they’re friends.  In fact Patton… Patton will admit that he might want to be more than that.

Which means Virgil’s definitely going to hate him.

The thought bubbles in his stomach the day after they hand in the assignment.  When Patton has no more excuse for messaging Remus, and yet he doesn’t stop.  How is he meant to explain that to Virgil?

Worse yet are the messages he gets that night, when they should both be asleep.

Want to go out this weekend?

On a date

A romantic date

Patton’s half way through answering ‘yes’ when he stops.

He can’t say yes.  Isn’t there some kind of code against dating exes?  Patton can’t say yes.

Except he super wants to.  Very, very wants to.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe he should ask Virgil first.  Then there’ll be no bad blood, right?  

Patton hopes so.

As for the message to Remus, he doesn’t answer.

--

Virgil and Patton always walk to school together.  They’ve just hit their school’s street when Virgil sighs and stops.

“Okay.”  He says.  “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?”  Patton squeaks.  “Nothings wrong!”

“Patton, I know you better than that.”  Virgil rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.  “Just tell me what’s up.”

“Well…” Patton starts slowly then, with a deep breath, he tries to say it all at once.  “You know how Remus and I were doing that project?  Well we sort of maybe got along and we’re kind of maybe friends, and he asked me out last night.  Like out, out.  And I want to say yes but I know you don’t like him and I don’t want to lose you as a friend, so can I say yes?”

For a moment Virgil just blinks at him, brain trying to commute the word vomit Patton just unleashed.

“Okay,” he finally starts, “let me get this right.  You and Remus are friends, and he asked you out on a date, and you want to say yes but only if I’m okay with it because you don’t want me to be mad you’re dating him?”  He rephrases.  Patton nods.  “Patton, of course you can say yes.”

“You don’t mind?”  Patton checks.

“Not at all.  If you like him, go for it.  We’ll still be friends, I promise.”  Virgil says and Patton feels his shoulders slump a little.

“But didn’t you two date?  Won’t it be weird?”  He asks.

“What?!”  Virgil frowns.  “Remus and I never dated!”

“What?”  Patton frowns right back.  Hadn’t Remus said something about a ‘bad breakup’ the other day?

“We used to be friends, us and Dante.  I dated Dante, and when we broke up the friend joke kind of fell apart.”  Virgil explains.

“Dante?”  Patton repeats.  “The school captain?  I didn’t think he was your type.”  

“He’s not.”  Virgil confirms.  “I just found that out the hard way.”

“Oh, so you haven’t dated Remus and you really don’t mind if I do?”  Patton repeats, just to clarify.

“Patton, even if you dated Dante I’d still be your friend.”  Virgil assures.  “The important thing is that you're happy.”  Patton doesn’t mean to start crying but well, it’s just so nice to hear that.  Especially after the stress of the past couple weeks.  “There, there.  You’ll wreck your make-up.”  Virgil says, even as he pulls Patton in for a hug.

As soon as Patton’s reapplied, he tells Remus he’d love to go on a date.

--

They go ice-skating.  Patton’s a little nervous, because he’s never gone before, but Remus goes all the time so he’s happy to teach.

“Patton, I’m wearing knife shoes.  This is literally my favourite thing.  Except you.”  Remus says, grinning when Patton’s face goes bright red.  They exhaust themselves over the next few hours, skating together and just… enjoying their time.  It’s the most fun Patton’s had in a while.

And when it’s over, and Remus has walked him home, he gets a soft kiss (that quickly turns heavy) to remember it by.

[xpouii]

Tentacletober Day 9

Hello! This is late! It’s also extremely triggering, so please heed the warnings. Also, I don’t condone the behavior in this story. I don’t condone things through my writing, so there you go.

Prompt: Surprise Tentacles

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Deceit, Roman, Logan, Remus

Warnings/Tags: SFW, violence, child abuse, self-harm, blood, mental illness, swearing, generally shitty parenting, unsympathetic Patton, unsympathetic Deceit, please be safe when reading this if you are triggered by any of the above

           “Virgil Gerard Heart!”

           Virgil winced, pulling his hood up and tightening it. Patton cut him off, blocking the door, “Virgil, honey… look at me.”

           Virgil tensed, his hands were shaking, but he lifted his face to his father’s squaring his jaw. He’d put on eyeshadow, smearing it under his eyes, and he desperately wanted to keep it on, “It’s just-“

           “No,” Patton said, cutting him off. “Why do you want to look like a dead person, honey? Go wash your face and hurry up now. Where did you even get that makeup? From that Prince boy? Or the little smart one… oh what’s his name, Lance? Lance Berry?”

           “No, Dad it’s just-!”

           “Virgil if you don’t march up those stairs right now you’re not leaving this house.”

           “Dad that’s not fair! It’s a mandatory band trip; come on!” Virgil begged. “I’m not a little kid anymore. Please just let me-“

           “Dee honey!” Patton called over Virgil’s shoulder, “A little help please?”

           Virgil clamped his mouth shut so hard that he bit his tongue, tears welling up in his eyes but he stayed silent, eyes on the floor. Deceit stuck his head into the living room. “What is it?”

           “Look at our son,” Patton said. “Please just… talk some sense into him alright? He’s going to be late for his little band trip and I have to finish these dishes!”

           Virgil’s heart sank as Patton swept out of the room. Patton always left, because he couldn’t stand to see what Deceit was about to do, even though he knew it by heart. Deceit lifted Virgil’s face, “Your father told you to clean your face?”

           Virgil’s bottom lip trembled, “I-“

           The slap was brutal, and Virgil stumbled into the wall, grabbing on and trying to hide his face, but Deceit pulled him back, “God damn it Virgil how many times are we going to have these talks?! When are you going to start listening?!”

           Virgil opened his mouth, but Deceit struck him again, this time in the mouth, and Virgil tasted blood. He closed his eyes and cried, “I’m sorry! Please I’ll wash my face! Please I’m sorry!”

           Deceit pulled Virgil in by his hoodie, glaring into his eyes, “Go wash your face and then apologize to your father. And you’d better not be crying when you get back down here or so help me god, Virgil you will miss this trip. I don’t care if it is mandatory!”

           Virgil walked—he wanted to run, but that would only make things worse—up the stairs and into his bedroom. He closed the door silently, carefully, and walked into his bathroom. He lowered his hood and looked at his face. His lip was busted, and he spat blood into the sink. His face was red on one side, an angry welt from the open-palmed slap. He unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off, splashing cold water on his face and scrubbing until his entire face was red, and his tears and eyeshadow were gone down the drain. Virgil brushed his teeth and used a thin piece of wet toilet paper to stop the bleed in his mouth. His eyes stopped on a bruise just below his elbow—and the forest of cuts from wrist to elbow—and then he pulled his hoodie back on, turning off the light and rushing downstairs.

           Patton was in the kitchen, humming happily to himself as he finished up the dishes. Virgil’s shoe squeaked on the linoleum and Patton turned with a smile, “Oh honey, there’s my beautiful boy.” Patton crossed to Virgil and took his face in his hands, kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. You know your father has a temper. I wish he wouldn’t be so hard on you… but you know it’s because he loves you. We love you so much, Virgil.”

           Virgil’s lip quivered but he held his emotions back, knowing better than to cry, “I’m sorry Dad. I should have done what you said the first time. I shouldn’t have upset you.”

           Patton smiled and pulled Virgil into a tight, warm hug, stroking his hair, “Virgil, I’m never upset with you honey. You’re my perfect, sweet boy. Now, hurry up and get to the school. You’ll miss the bus.”

           Virgil took the affection greedily, like he always did; it was the only thing he could depend on just as much as Deceit’s violence, and even though Patton’s kindness was somehow even more cruel, he still craved it like oxygen.

             Virgil jogged to his truck, climbing up and starting it. He glanced at his reflection in the overhead mirror before pulling out of the driveway and heading toward the highschool. After turning off out of his suburb, Virgil leaned over and fumbled in the glove compartment, pulling out a small jewelry box. He’d taken it out of the trash when Patton had given Deceit diamond cufflinks for their anniversary. Now, it held a very different treasure. Virgil took out one of the razorblades, flicking off the cardboard guard and putting it in his mouth. He held it delicately between his front teeth, letting his lips tease against the sharp edge. He hated being such a statistic, but he wasn’t exactly the only one to blame. When he was twelve, Patton had sent him to a therapist when he accidentally burned his wrist with his hair straightener and Patton was convinced it was intentional—in truth Deceit had beat him so badly his hands were still shaking. Virgil had gone obediently and listened to a counselor tell him why he self-harmed, all of the control, the endorphins, the release. When he’d gotten home from that session, Virgil had immediately taken one of Patton’s razorblades from the bathroom and sat in the bathtub, cutting tiny lines in his inner thigh. He still saw the therapist, but now he wore hoodies and chewed toothpicks and rolled his eyes. What was he supposed to do? Roll up his sleeves and show all of his little scars—maybe he would have, if he ever went to the therapist without bruises. If he ever went out in public not having to hide the black and blue humiliation Deceit gave him.

           Virgil pressed his lips together and the razor split his bottom lip, just next to the cut Deceit had made. He let the blood flow for a moment, down his chin like a lover’s touch, warm self-indulgence, and then he took out the razor and threw it out the window, wiping his chin with his fingers and licking the blood off, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. By the time he reached the school parking lot it could have just been a lip cracked by the dry weather. Virgil put the small box back in his glove compartment and used his chapstick before he jumped out of his truck. He took out his backpack—and his previously stowed clarinet—and locked the truck—smirking to himself at the thought someone would actually steal it. But if a security guard went snooping and found his razorblades, he’d be in deep shit. Virgil jogged to the bus that blazed in the early evening like a beacon. He climbed up and saw two familiar faces, allowing himself to smile.

           “You were almost late, you big slut!” Roman scolded and Virgil laughed.

           “Parents were being assholes,” Virgil said, sliding in the seat next to him.

           Across the aisle, their friend Logan sat with his feet up in the seat, communicating a clear message, “When are they not?”

           “Isn’t this exciting!” Roman interrupted. “The audience is going to be the biggest we’ve ever played for! Mom already drove up to set up her camera.”

           “It should go well,” Logan said. “The last practice was fairly seamless.”

           Roman rolled his eyes playfully and nudged Virgil, “What about you, Virge? How do you think the clarinets will do?”

Virgil smiled, “As long as I don’t mess up, it’ll be fine. I’m just so glad the director didn’t decide to give me the solo.”

           “Well he wanted to,” Roman said. “You wouldn’t let him.”

           “If he did my parents would have come, no way I could’ve hidden it from them if I was going to all the solo practices.”

           Roman shrugged, “Well I think it would’ve been better in your hands.”

           “He’s right,” Logan said. “You’re first clarinet for a reason, Virgil.”

           “Well you two got the solo stuff you wanted so I’m just glad about that.”

           “I’m the only cellist,” Logan said. “There was literally no competition.”

           “But-“

           “Well I am proud of my position,” Roman said. “Oboe tunes the whole band.”

           “Even if it didn’t you still have your own entire song with the piano,” Logan said.

Roman sighed happily, then frowned, “Yeah mother says it’s a hollow privilege because I have no true competition.”

           Virgil rolled his eyes, resting his head against Roman’s shoulder. His cheek complained briefly against the rough fabric of Roman’s letterman jacket, but it wasn’t long until Virgil fell asleep to his friends’ gentle bickering.

           Virgil unlocked the front door and let himself in quietly, closing the door behind him and crossing the livingroom in the dark. He almost went to his knees when the lights flipped on, and Patton was sitting in his chair, knitting. “Hey kiddo. Awfully long trip to see a concert.”

           “Y-yeah,” Virgil said. “Well, traffic was-“

           “Mrs. Berry called me about an hour ago,” Patton said. “She wanted to congratulate me on how well you played at the concert.”

           Virgil’s heart dropped and he froze, “Dad, I-“

           “Go to your room, Virgil,” Patton said. He looked hurt, and that was the most terrifying thing he could be.

Virgil raced up the stairs, closing his door and throwing his backpack into his closet. He stripped his clothes off and threw on his pajamas, jumping into bed and covering up his head. Deceit would be there eventually, and Virgil prayed for it to be quick, and then he could cry himself to sleep, where he’d be safe. He was still trying to calm his breathing when the door opened and the lights turned on. Virgil squeezed his eyes closed as he heard the footfalls cross to his bed, “Did you brush your teeth?”

Virgil whimpered, “N-no sir… I’m sor-“

“Sorry? Oh you’re sorry are you Virgil? Are you sorry for breaking your dad’s heart?! Because that’s what you did! You lied and you hid the concert. He cried for an hour, you ungrateful little bastard.”

Virgil squeezed his eyes closed; he knew what was coming, but he had no idea how long the lecture would last before the violence started. The hand in his hair drug him out of the suspense—and out of the bed. His knees hit the floor and he cried out, struggling as Deceit dragged him into the bathroom. Virgil wrapped his hands around Deceit’s wrists to help keep him from pulling out any hair as he hauled the boy across the floor, jerking him to his feet and pushing him against the sink. “Do you need help with your nightly routine, Virgil? Is that it? You’re not mature enough to do your own grooming? Do you need me to brush your teeth for you?”

“No Dad please! I’m sorry I’ll do it please!” Virgil sobbed, staring at his own terrified face in the mirror.

Deceit slammed his knee against the back of Virgil’s and the boy went down, hitting his chin on the sink and biting his tongue—bleeding again. He drove his boot into Virgil’s ribs in a brutal kick, causing the teen to sob and curl into a fetal position on the floor. Fixing his shirt, Deceit cleared his throat, “If your teeth aren’t brushed and you aren’t back in bed before I come back in here—ten minutes, Virgil. You won’t be going to school for a week. I’ll make sure of that. Do you fucking hear me?”

Virgil trembled, unable to make a coherent reply, but Deceit left him, and he managed to drag himself up from the floor and brush his teeth, spitting blood. He washed his face, trying to fight away the tears as he crawled back into bed, wincing at the unpleasant grab in his side when he did so. He held his breath when he heard Deceit open his bedroom door, hallway light flooding in. Virgil forced his eyes closed and waited, biting down on his knuckles hard enough to leave deep toothmarks. When the door closed again he let out a shaky breath, but there weren’t anymore tears to release. So much for crying himself to sleep. Despite the dry eyes, Virgil did eventually drift off, the tremble in his breath melting as his chest slowed, and sleep took him.

 Virgil

Virgil jerked awake. He’d heard something, a voice? Something crawling on his floor? He sat up and looked around. It hadn’t been Deceit, or he’d have been slapped awake by now. Something—a snake? A rat?—slid under his bed and Virgil gasped, curling back up in bed and pulling his covers over his head. Whatever it was, if he made a fuss, he’d be in for another beating.

Virgil

           Virgil’s eyes snapped open, and he rolled over to the edge of the bed; he’d heard a voice. He was sure this time. He looked down for a moment before pulling himself down and looking under the bed. The darkness stared back, and Virgil tensed, chewing his lip as he moved to climb back up onto the bed. Suddenly, a writhing mass of tentacles shot out and wrapped around him, arms and throat, yanking Virgil underneath the bed. Virgil cried out as darkness enveloped him.

           He sat up as soon as he felt his body land on the floor—ground?—and scrambled to his feet. He was in something like a cave; water was dripping somewhere nearby, and trickling over rocks. He didn’t notice the man until his eyes adjusted, and then he screamed.

           “My my what a set of pipes you have,” the man said. “But calm down. I may be the monster under your bed, but I’m not here to eat you.”

           Virgil blinked, “Am I dead?”

           The man—monster?—rolled his eyes, “You think you’re in heaven? Do I look like God to you?”

           “I didn’t expect god to have a pornstache that’s true.”

           He cackled, “Pornstache! Oh that’s a good nickname… but I feel like it’s been done. Let’s wait a while until Orange Is the New Black has settled down before we really go for it, hm? So, Virge. I’ve been watching you a long time.”

           “Creepy,” Virgil said. “Why?”

           “It’s what we do, monsters, cryptids, whatever you want to call us. Humans are interesting—they’re very weird. But, you’re such a sad sack I couldn’t just let it stand anymore. I thought I’d pop in and cheer you up!”

           “By kidnapping me,” Virgil said, “Sure ok… what’s your name?”

           The creature was thoughtful, a few tentacles emerged—from his back maybe?—and twisted around as if he were fidgeting, “Well, I’ve got a few. When you live forever you pick up names don’t you? They’re like herpes, not generally welcome but always dependable! You can call me Remus.”

           “Remus, like Professor Lupin?” Virgil said, walking over to the cave wall where lewd art had been carved with a rock. “Or like… Remus Dănălache?”

           Remus raised an eyebrow, “What now?”

           Virgil shoved his hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts, “My dad watches a lot of European football.”

           “Ooh, which one? Hug Dad or Punch Dad?”

           Virgil winced, and Remus hissed apologetically, “Yeah maybe be a little more chill when you bring up… Punch Dad, alright?”

           Remus clapped his hands together, “Let’s go do something fun, Virgil! What do you like? Besides chewing on razorblades. I love doing that but… I’d better not bring you home covered in blood or your parents—or my parents—would probably be pissed.”

           “Wait you have parents? Monsters have parents?”

           “How else do you think I got here? Do you think I crawled out from under a rock?”

           “Well you did crawl out from under my bed!” Virgil said. “But like… sorry. Ok you have parents… does that mean you’re not an adult monster?”

           Remus sighed, “Monsters age slow, so no. I have to be six thousand before I’m considered an adult and I’ve got another five hundred years before that happens. But I’m practically an adult. I can jump.”

           “Can’t everybody jump?”

           “Not like that, dummy. I can dimensional jump! It means I can interact with your world and bring you into mine! So, why don’t we… go scare your neighbor, the old bitch who complained about your music that day you had the window open and Punch Dad broke your stereo.”

           “Yeah, Ms. Miller,” Virgil muttered. “What do we do?”

           Remus grinned, offering Virgil his hand, “Just follow my lead.”

[thechildoflightning]

The Kübler-Ross Model Ch3- Bargaining

Title: The Kübler-Ross Model [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: background LAMP

~~~

Chapter Title: Bargaining- Chapter Three

Summary: 

Stage Three: Bargaining- Characterized by making internal and external deals in order to cope with or even attempt to fix a loss.

In which Remy is talking, but not nearly enough.

Warnings: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Suicide & Rape & Hate Crimes (all mentioned), Transphobia & Racism & Fatphobia & Ableism (all mentioned)

[ao3 link]

Bargaining- Chapter Three

“Selected: Voicemail. One item. Tab one of one,” Remy’s phone claims, direct and to the point. Remy knows it’s from his dad, he’s the only one leaving Remy voicemails. He puts his finger to the screen, sliding it around as he searches for the desired section.

“Voicemail.”

One finger down.

“Daniel Zurko. M-”

Double tap.

“Look Remy, I get that you’re not happy. I know how much going to university meant to you. I get that, okay? But it just isn’t realistic and you need to accept that. I- look why don’t you come home? The college in town is great, maybe you can take a few courses there. I think it’s too late to sign up for this semester but maybe you can start in the spring. I know they don’t have some of the sculpture classes you were interested in but they have some creative writing courses and that’s pretty much the same thing, right? Just… Please call me. We can work something out together.”

-

A little while later, Remy and Patton settle in the living room. Patton sits on the couch and Remy’s a few feet away on the floor, hugging his dog as he slowly stops sniffling. Cha-Cha helps him out, covering his face in kisses to get rid of the tears. Remy laughs little and pushes her away after a moment.

The small chuckles ring out as the only noise in the room.

Patton still doesn’t speak.

Remy quickly falls silent.

“I came out as trans when I was fourteen,” Patton eventually says, “But- I- I mean I don’t- there wasn’t one moment for me. I- gosh I debated it for forever.” 

Patton stops and Remy considers. Remy’s kind of surprised in all honesty. Patton has always seemed so sure of himself that it surprises Remy that Patton ever had any sort of doubt.

“Why- why’d it take so long?” Remy asks carefully.

Patton hums.

“I guess- I was scared. That was definitely a big piece. There was this huge fear of what it would mean for my life if I was trans. Everything would change.”

Remy swallows hard. 

“I was- I didn’t know what my family would think. I mean- I knew they were supportive but it’s different when it’s your kid, y’know? And there’s all the statistics of suicide attempts, rape numbers, hate crimes, it was a lot. 

“And I- I was also scared I was wrong? Because- because there’s this idea of what a black girl’s supposed to be like, y’know? And I had never been that. But I thought- I thought maybe it was just that? Maybe I wasn’t trans, maybe I was just pissed at the racist standards that follow black girls? And I hated my body but like- how much of that was trans versus being disabled? Versus being fat? So there were all these reasons that screamed at me that I was faking, that I wasn’t valid, that I could never be trans. It was scary because what if I was wrong, what if I was faking?”

Remy’s so scared of being wrong.

“If you were so scared of being wrong- how did you figure out that you were right?”

“I kept coming back to it,” Patton answered honestly, “And I thought- gosh if I keep having these excuses of why I’m not trans but I still end up here again and again and again, questioning my gender and so unhappy, then it’s gotta be true, right?”

Remy thinks she understands.

“And that was it at first, it still is,” Patton continues, “A big part of it now is trusting myself. I’m happy as a guy. It feels right. It is right. I’ve always been a guy. But there’s still doubts, and I guess I deal with those with just accepting them? Because maybe I am faking. Like- maybe. I mean I know I’m trans, but I think I’m always going to have that doubt. And if I’m always going to have that doubt, I’m going to live the way that makes me happy in the meantime. Does that make any sense?

“Yes,” Remy says, and she means it. “Yes. Yes. It does.”

Patton offers a small hum.

“Patton,” Remy says, and she's desperate now, oh so desperate. “Patton,” she insists. “Patton, I’m a girl.”

“Okay.”

Remy cries for the second time that night.

Patton offers a hug, and Remy shakily gets to her feet to collapse into his side. Patton wraps her up firm and tight and he listens to her. He listens and he hugs and he soothes.

It’s so nice.

Her mom never did this for her. She got so sick so fast that it had always been Remy comforting her than the other way around.

Her dad had, or he tried at least. He had wrapped Remy up, wrapped her up in layers and layers of bubble wrap, leading to suffocation instead of protection. Remy’s dad hugged her but it had always felt wrong. It always felt like it was about her dad, never actually about herself. His hugs were given as proof that Remy needed him, needed his suffocation, versus providing any actual care or comfort.

Remy hated that she almost missed them.

She curled into Patton a bit more. Patton lifted one hand to gently stroke her hair, soft ‘it's okay, it’s all going to be okay’ on repeat.

It takes her longer to stop crying this time.

“So,” Patton says, “Where do you want to go with this?”

“I’m a girl,” Remy says again. This time it's a bit stronger. “I’m a trans woman.”

“Okay. Absolutely,” Patton says, “That’s amazing and I’m so happy for you.”

There’s a pause.

“Can I ask about names and pronouns?” Patton prods gently.

“I… Uh,” Remy falters, because she hasn’t really thought this far yet.

“You can take all the time you need,” Patton adds, gentle and sweet, “And while I want you to feel like you can share this with me, you don’t have to either.”

“No- I- She. She/her. I- Feminine language too? Is that the word for that? I-” Remy pauses here. She tenses up, prepares for a fight. She doesn’t think Patton’s going to like what she has to say next, but she has to say it because it feels right. It feels so right, and she’s willing to defend it. “I’m keeping Remy. My name is still Remy.”

“Okay.”

Remy’s body relaxes, then tenses again. “Okay?”

“Of course Remy, whatever you’re feeling is valid. One hundred percent. I’m here to support you.”

“I- I just kept my name?”

“Well you can always change it later-” Patton admits. Remy winces. “Or you can keep it. It’s your name. All that matters is that you’re happy with it.”

“But-” Remy flounders. And it’s so stupid, Patton said it’s fine, why is Remy looking for a fight, “But?”

“Did you know my name is legally Patton Agnes Wilson?” Patton says abruptly.

Remy did not. She shakes her head slightly.

“Yeah I-” Patton continues, before stopping suddenly, “And I just pulled out my ID to show you. Putting that away now.”

Remy lets out a light laugh, and truly relaxes.

“Yeah. When my moms adopted me they gave me the first name Agnes, but I always went by my middle name- my deadname. My deadname hurt. A lot. So I chose Patton. But Agnes, Agnes meant something to me? And I didn’t want to lose that. So I made it my middle name, got rid of my deadname and made Patton my first,” Patton explains. He pauses once more, “Did I say that right?” 

He seems to be questioning himself more than Remy. He starts to mutter the sentence under his breath again, revising it.

“Yeah you said that right,” Remy confirms.

Patton laughs, and it sounds like bells.

“Okay. Good. But my point is- your name is your name, not anyone else's.”

“My mom named me Remy,” she admits, “I- my middle name is Alan. After my great-grandfather. That can go,” she insists, making a face.

“I can understand that,” Patton says wryly.

“Yeah.”

“Have you come out to anyone else yet?”

“No,” Remy sais, “No. No I don't think I was even out to myself. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Remy and Patton haven’t talked a lot. She knows that this conversation has to be painfully uncomfortable for Patton. After all, Remy did just show up at his house, live with him for a few months, leave for college, and then demand he share about being trans. Patton doesn’t even know her.

“I’m glad you did. I’m really glad I could help you with this.”

Patton’s such a good person. Remy’s so appreciative of that.

The door opens and seconds later there's excited skittering paws on the floor as Trixie races over to say hi to Cha-Cha. Cha-Cha perks up at the attention and they quickly begin to play with one another. Remy smiles at their energy and let’s them be.

“Remy?” Virgil asks, “Are you okay?”

She wants to say she’s fine, but maybe, well maybe she isn’t. She isn’t fine at all. She doesn’t know what to say.

(She thinks maybe she should tell Virgil she’s a girl. She did just figure it out, but it’s important. Virgil would understand. He would. But there’s something that tells Remy that she can’t. Not yet).

“I- I dunno? I’m upset,” she admits.

“About?”

“Kind of everything?”

“Do you want to talk?”

“I- me and Pat were talking a bit?”

Virgil pauses then stands.

“Okay. I’ll let you be then. But if you need to talk- I’m here okay? You have people supporting you.”

Remy nods, because she doesn’t think she can force words around the choked feeling in her chest.

Virgil leaves.

“I don’t want to tell Virgil yet,” Remy says immediately after he leaves, “Or Logan. Or Roman. Or anyone. I told you, just don’t tell anyone else yet, please.”

“That you’re trans?”

Remy’s trans. She’s trans. It feels so freeing even as it terrifies her.

“Yeah,” Remy confirms, “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Okay, that’s fine. It’s yours to share.”

A pause sits between them.

“Can I write this down?” Patton asks for a moment, “I write down important stuff to remember in my phone so when I forget I have it all. I wanted to ask because while my boyfriends would never read my notes unless I told them it was okay, it’s obviously still going to be out there in some way. But I want to write it down because there’s a very high chance I will forget.”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Remy agrees.

“Thank you,” Patton says. He presumably pulls out his phone to do exactly that. “It’s getting late and I have a class at nine tomorrow. Did you want to talk more or…?”

“No, no, you can go to bed,” Remy insists, “I’m good, yeah. I'm just going to go middle name searching now. Uh how the hell do I even go about that choosing a new name?”

“Baby websites. They were created for expecting parents, trans people, and authors.”

Remy rolls her eyes at the comment.

She then groans. Like yeah, she wants to find a better middle name than Alan. But she does not want to be searching through millions of names to find the right one. How do parents do this?

“That’s gonna be so many names. Have any suggestions?”

Patton hesitates.

“Yeah?” Remy asks

“I- well. If you want… Eileen was my deadname. But if you want you can use that?”

Patton’s words are casual but Remy can feel the weight behind them, the power. Remy is absolutely floored by the offer. 

“I… really?” she asks.

“I mean if you want. It’s an idea. There’s a lot of names out there.”

“But you would be okay with that?” Remy confirms, because she is honored but she doesn’t want to take something that will make Patton uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” he says, “I mean it’s not like I’m using it.”

“Remy Eileen Zurko,” she says, “Remy Eileen Zurko.” She smiles and knows she must look like an idiot.

“Yeah?” Patton asks.

“Yeah,” Remy chokes out, “Yeah I love it.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Okay, I’m headed to bed.” Patton says, “Uh, the bedroom you stayed in is still empty. Extra towels are under the sink… I think. If you want to shower or anything.”

Remy gives a nod and Patton gets up to leave. Before he can fully exit, Remy calls out once more.

“Patton?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Remy’s not quite sure what she’s thanking Patton for in particular. Maybe the name. Maybe for the advice. Maybe for listening. Maybe for the entire conversation in general. Maybe just for being here.

But Remy is. Thankful that is. She’s so thankful.

“Of course. Really.”

Patton means it. Remy knows he does. It makes everything inside of her hurt.

When Patton really is gone, Remy gets up from the couch as well and makes it to the empty bedroom. She closes the door softly behind her and pulls out her phone, opening Kai’s contact. She has some apologizing to do.

-

“We’re going for a walk,” Logan announces, as he enters the doorway to the room Remy’s staying with. He blocks a fair amount of light, and Remy’s eyes struggle to adjust.

“Uh… I was actually about to leave. Maybe another time,” Remy bargains, because she was about to leave. Plus she thinks she might know where this conversation is going and she really doesn’t want to have it.

“Okay,” Logan says, and Remy thinks she’s won. “Then I’ll walk with you back to your dorm.” Nope, Remy’s trapped.

Remy doesn’t have any actual reason to refuse. So she accepts with a sigh and nods. She grabs her bag and heads for the door. At the door, she gets Cha-Cha in her harness and quickly steps outside, Logan trailing behind her.

The minute she steps outside she’s hit with blinding light and takes a step backward into Logan as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Remy?” Logan asks.

She ignores him for a minute, fumbling through her bag for her familiar sunglasses. Which she of course doesn’t have. Because she came here when it was dark out last night with a rushed back of minimal school supplies. Of course.

“Logan, do you have any sunglasses I can borrow?” she asks.

“Yes,” he answers, “One moment.”

He’s gone the next seconds and Remy keeps her eyes shut and sits down on ground, lying her head in her arms as she hopes for it to stop pounding.

“Hey,” Logan says, rejoining her. He sits down next to her. “Here.”

Remy holds out her hand and Logan hands her a pair of sunglasses. She takes a minute, letting the shooting pain in her head relax a bit. After that, she lifts her head and slips the sunglasses on, slowly opening her eyes. 

“You okay?” Logan asks.

There’s still bright spots in her vision and her head hurts, but both are fading. Her eyes also struggle to adjust to the change in light, but that’s nothing new.

“Yeah,” Remy says. She waits another minute for the panging in her head to die to a dull ache. 

She then stands. “Dorm?”

“Okay,” Logan says, “Do you want me to guide or Cha-Cha?”

Remy answers by grabbing his upper arm right above his elbow. They start walking, Logan guiding.

Logan makes a clicking noise as they make their way to Remy’s dorm. Remy just zones out and starts to think about how she’s going to apologize to Kai and Elliot in person. She texted them both last night, but Remy still knows they both deserve in-person apologies. She shouldn't have snapped at them.

Eventually Logan stops the clicking noise and reaches up to pat at his chest instead. He hesitates for a brief moment and then begins to talk.

“I’m worried about you,” he begins.

Remy just waits. She doesn’t want to have this conversation. But maybe if she listens- or pretends to at least- maybe Logan will voice his concerns and let her go.

“You are of course welcome to stay with us whenever you want. That isn’t what this is about and I want to make that clear. You always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay,” Remy says.

“Virgil doesn’t want to talk to you about this,” Logan confesses, “He thinks we should give you space.”

That means Logan disagrees. Remy wishes he’d just follow in Virgil’s example. It’s easier that way.

“I’m also not going to ask about last night. I don’t know exactly what happened, but Patton expressed that it wasn’t- that it was different.”

“Different than what?” Remy can’t help but ask. She regrets it at once.

“Different than what I’m worried about. Or maybe part of it? Playing a role? But not the main idea.”

Remy stays quiet this time.

“You don’t seem happy,” Logan admits after a moment, “I thought things would maybe get better when you were away from your dad for a little bit. And in a sense I think you are doing better. But you aren’t doing… You still seem off. Not only unhappy, but… You seem detached? I’m not sure if that’s the right word, but it concerns me.”

“I’m fine.”

She isn’t. She knows she isn’t now, but for some reason she’s still unwilling to share that with Logan.

“You keep saying that but I don’t believe you.”

“You’re saying I’m lying?” Remy can’t help but challenge. It’s not fair of her, but she doesn't want to be having this conversation.

“No,” Logan says, “I’m not sure why you keep saying you’re fine. Maybe you think it yourself. Maybe I’m wrong. Or maybe you are lying. I don’t know. Regardless, I’m concerned about you.”

“Okay,” Remy says. She knows that’s not the answer that Logan’s looking for, and maybe that’s a bit mean, answering in a way she knows Logan doesn’t want, but this is also Remy’s business so Logan can budge off.

Logan sits with that answer for a minute.

“I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me,” Logan says eventually.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I doubt that.”

“I talked to Patton.”

“Apparently not about the things I’m concerned about.”

Remy shrugs.

“I’m frustrated,” Logan says, “I don’t feel acknowledged in this conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” Remy replies, “That wasn’t my point. I get that you’re concerned about me. I hear that. I don’t agree with the concern, but I hear that you are.”

“Okay. Thank you. I want you to talk to me, but I don’t think you’re going to do that.”

“Yeah, I’m not,” Remy says.

Logan and her used to be so close. Why was that all crumbling apart?

“Okay,” Logan said, “That’s one of the many things that’s concerning me.”

Remy doesn’t reply.

“Remy, will you talk to someone?”

“I-”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be me. It doesn’t have to be about the things I’m concerned about. I’m worried that you don’t have anyone you’re talking emotionally with in any scheme. Considering you’ve been through some deep emotional shocks lately, it concerns me that you seem to have no healthy outlets for talking about those things.”

“Uh huh.”

“Remy, I hope you talk to someone.”

For most of this conversation, Remy’s been numb. But there, for just a moment, she feels something.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

Remy’s not going to, but she knows that saying she might will make Logan happy. It’s a tradeoff, lying to get Logan off her back. She hates that she doesn’t.

“Alright,” Logan says, and stops, “We’re at the front entrance to your dorm. About thirty feet to the front door, straight ahead. I’m headed to class. Call, text, or visit anytime.”

“Okay.”

“Can I give you a hug?”

“No thanks.”

Remy doesn’t really feel up for it, and she knows Logan won’t be offended. She offers a handshake instead which is weird and doesn’t feel right for this conversation or their relationship, but Remy wants to provide something here. Logan accepts it. It’s awkward.

“Alright. Bye,” Logan says when their hands drop.

“Bye.”

Logan leaves, and Remy goes back to her dorm.

~~~

taglist below

-ask to be added or removed-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown @you-betcha-weirdo

[midnightmarev]

Once Upon A Time... Not

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Find it on AO3 at dahliadragonheart

Relationships: Might be Prinxiety, might be LAMP. I don’t know, we’ll see how it goes. Eventual Logicality. Eventual Demus. Remile. Original Female Characters.

Summary: Virgil Blake moves to Gainesville, Florida, at the age of 17 with his father and twin sister after his mother’s death. He doesn’t believe in a ‘happily, ever after’. At least not for himself. Virgil thinks it is stupid because he’s seen for himself that not even his parents got to have one, even though they always told him they would while he was a child. He moves to Florida with the opinion that fairy-tales are stupid - that or he fears them - and that he will never have a ‘happily, ever after’. But how wrong he is proven when he bumps into Roman Garcia, Patton Maine, and Logan Connors. He gets whirled up in his very own - down to earth - fairy-tale.

Notes: Salutations. I was inspired by something my teacher said in class one day. Well, he mentioned 'Once Upon A Time' and I was like: Once Upon A Time is dead. No maybe, Once Upon A Time doesn't exist. Not. AAHHHH! Long story short, I started writing, and all of a sudden, I had planned out future chapters and written character sheets.

It didn’t start out like it, but it ended up basically being a twin AU, meaning everyone has a twin. At least the gang. They’re called the twin-squad in school because they are all friends and often hang out together. TS for short. You know? Like Thomas Sanders? Alright, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Virgil and his twin are moving with their father to America three months after their mother's death. Virgil finds a mysterious box under his bed that seemingly belongs to her. Does he open it? And what could it hold?

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of minor character death, panic attack, unintentional child neglect, a dad joke or two (they are bad). Let me know if I missed any.

Word count: 2628

Next Chapter

Chapter 1: Prologue

‘Once upon a time’ is not real. ‘Happily, ever after’ doesn’t exist. I once believed it did, but so did everyone else. I was just a kid. Like everyone else.

At least, ‘happily, ever after’ doesn’t exist to people like me. I will never have it, no matter how much I might want it. So, ‘once upon a time’ is dead. So is ‘happily, ever after’.

These kinds of thoughts are not an uncommon occurrence for me. Though usually, they are worse. I would’ve thought they would have been worse, seeing as Father, my sister, and I are moving to a completely different country, away from my mother’s grave. The only positive I can see is the fact that I don’t have to wear school uniform anymore.

A knock on my door. “Are you done packing the rest of your stuff?” my father asks. He doesn’t open it. Probably too scared that he would find me collapsed on the floor like he did my mother.

I don’t answer. At least not verbally. I send him a text. A text saying I had been done for quite some time. I have been laying in my bed for a long time now, stuck in my thoughts. As much as I didn’t want to move, I didn’t want to stay, either. Too many memories. Memories of her.

“That’s good. That’s good. Uh, yeah. I’ve made some dinner. It’s not much but, yeah. I would like the three of us to eat dinner one last time before we move. You don’t have to, but I would like it, and I think it would be good for the three of us,” Father says tentatively like I’m gonna bolt out the window if he speaks too loudly or something.

I consider it. I _have _been closing myself off for some time now. School was a no-go. Father thought so, too, so he had made an arrangement with the school. They sent everything to me digitally so I would still be able to keep up with school. And I don’t like being behind, but school just became too much after Mother…

I shook my head. I really didn’t wanna think about her right now. That would only open up too many wounds. I open up my phone again to answer Father yes, I will be down in a few minutes. I then hear footsteps leaving my door.

I sigh. Might as well get it over with. It’s been three months, but it’s still really awkward at the dinner table when I actually on rare occasions venture downstairs. And it’s the last day we’re staying here anyway. What better way to say goodbye than having one last ‘family-dinner’?

Another knock on my door. This one lighter, almost ghost-like. “Hey, it’s me. Can I come in?” It’s my twin sister’s voice. I knock on my wall once for yes. She enters and slowly walks over to me and tentatively sits down on the edge of my bed. “You know you don’t have to come down if you’re not feeling up to it, right? Father won’t hold it against you.”

I sit up. _“I know,” _I sign before hanging my head, looking down at the mattress. I feel a hand on my knee and look up to meet her eyes with a soft smile on her lips. I hesitate before continuing. “I just feel like I owe it to her, you know?”

“I know Vee, I know,” she says softly. She takes my hand and gives it what I’m assuming is meant to be a comforting squeeze. She’s the only one I’ve allowed to touch me since we buried Mother. She’s the only one whose touch doesn’t feel like it can send me into a panic attack.

I give her a small smile in return. She releases my hand, and I start signing. “Should we head downstairs then?” At that, she smiles and nods to me before standing up. I frown when she doesn’t head to the door, but to one of the moving boxes. She’s picking something up, but I can’t see it from my angle.

“Here,” she says softly and turns around. She’s standing with my hoodie. The one I worked on with Mother. My patchwork hoodie. Black with stitched on purple plaid patches. “It’s a bit cold downstairs, might wanna wear this,” she smiles.

I just stare at her. Is she serious? There was a reason why I packed it down in the first place. After a few moments, I slowly reach out for it. It feels weird to hold it again. I look to her with a questioning look, but she just nods to me. Then I notice that she is wearing the jacket she made with Mother.

A tear falls from my eye with no accompanying sound. I open up my mouth to speak, but no sound came. I close it and try again. It takes a few more tries, but eventually, I’m able to croak out “Thank you,” before winching. I hadn’t used my voice in days, it sounded awful.

But she just smiles at me. I then put on the hoodie, sips it up and looks at her. She has her hand outstretched to me. “Shall we, brother dear?” she smiles at me. I nod and take her hand.

When we come downstairs, the table is set for the three of us with what looks like some improvised veggie stew on the table.

“Hey you two, I made veggie stew.” Oh no, Father just tried to make a rhyme. We’re in for it. He’s gonna make us sit through a lot of super bad dad jokes and puns, all in the name of trying to cheer us up. And worst of all? That tactic always works!

My sister giggles a bit. “Nice. Though it looks like you just raided the fridge,” she winks at Father. Ah, because we’re moving and need to have the fridge cleared out. I roll my eyes and sign, good-naturedly, to her to shut up.

My Father minutely sags. Maybe he had hoped I would talk, but I haven’t actually had a verbal conversation since Mother died. Don’t know why he would get his hopes up.

“Well, Virgil, Anastacia, I present to you: some veggie stew. And yes, it’s basically what was left in the fridge, so anything we don’t eat everything tonight, we’ll bring with us at our travels to America.” He sighs. “I know you still miss your mother dearly, trust me, I know, but we will have to move on eventually. Who knows? Maybe this new start in America is precisely what we need,” he tries, smiling a bit. He was hoping for us to make friends. For me to make friends since Ann didn’t have a problem with that. But I have her, don’t need other people in my life that I will lose eventually. I lost Mother, I’ve almost lost Father, and with the move to America, I might lose my twin, for the most part, to her future-to-be friends. Bottom line, if I get attached to someone, I will lose them. Either they die, or they abandon me. Simple as that.

Ann gives my hand another squeeze, pulling me out of my thoughts, and we sit down at the table. The stew is actually pretty good, considering Father can’t really cook all that well.

After we ate, I went back to my room. The moving truck will be coming later in the evening, so I have to get what I need for the trip and get the boxes ready for pick-up. I hate that we are leaving. It’s doing nothing good for my anxiety. I hate change.

Moving to a new school means all new people. New bullies. Just hope they won't discover my binder as fast. They will eventually though. And that only adds to the things that are wrong with me; the things bullies can use against me.

I rummage through the last box to get my sketch pad and pencils. I put my fidget cube on the lid of the box, but with me moving it, I accidentally knock it under my bed. My bed which we will be leaving behind. The bed Mother always would sit so tentatively on and card her fingers through my hair and guide me through my panic attack. How she would lay down on it and sign me lullabies and point out constellations and the stories behind them and NO! Stop thinking about that!

I sigh. It’s gonna be a long night. I bend down to pick up the cube and notice a glint. It’s a wooden box. It’s gathered a lot of dust. I don’t even remember putting it down there, so it must have been sitting there for a long time. The glint came from the sun shining on the lock. A combination lock. Hmm, I wonder. Mother and I always used the same number-combination for these kinds of things, so if it were Mother’s, I would still be able to open it. The question now is, do I open it?

Fidget cube and art supplies forgotten at the moment, I slowly put in the right combination of numbers and open it. What? I might be an anxious mess, but sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me, okay?

The first thing I notice is the engraving on the inside of the lid. It’s beautiful, artistic, looks incredibly complicated, and, most importantly, something my mother used to make! I flinch back at the sudden realisation. Nonononono! This is bad! Very bad! I don’t want painful memories of her flooding my mind!

I start doing my breathing exercises. In for four seconds. Hold for seven. And out for eight. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Repeat until I have my breathing under control and I’m sure I won't have a flashback.

It’s pitch black. Is it night already? Oh, my eyes are closed. That’s why. When did I close my eyes? I slowly open them. And look straight into Ann’s eyes. She looks distraught. That’s when I notice a tapping on my knee. Tap tap tap tap. Pause. Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap. Pause. Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap. Repeat. 4-7-8. Oh.

She’s speaking, but I can’t hear her. Instead, I read her lips. ‘you hear me, Virgil? There you are. Can you hear me? Tap once for yes and twice for no. Please?’ I tap twice. She nods. Then she disappeared from my view. She returned after what felt like an eternity. With something in her hand. My fidget cube. I wonder why… oh nevermind. This is nice. I look up at her again. She’s signing something to me. I don’t catch it, so I just stare at her. She smiles softly. At me. Why would she smile to me? I’m not worth it. She looks down now. I follow her eyes and my eyes land on a piece of paper.

‘You’re doing great. Keep going, Vee. I’m proud of you. Please keep focusing on your breathing.’

I look to her again. I watch as she slowly leans towards me. I don’t flinch. I never do when it’s her. She brushes my cheek. Her hand comes away wet, I notice. Wet from my tears. When did I start crying? She opens her mouth again.

“How you feeling now, Vee? Is there anything else I can do?” I can hear her again. I don’t know how to answer, though. My hands are shaking too much to sign. She moves her hand again, slowly, as to let me know what she wants to do. I follow her hand with my eyes. She’s reaching for the paper. Scribbles something on it.

‘Water, blanket, fidget cube, paper and pencil, stuffed animal, other.’

“Could you point to one of these? Very good, you’re doing amazing,” she says after I point to the blanket and stuffed animal. “I’ll be right back, Vee.”

She doesn’t return. It’s been a long time. Where is she? It feels like she left hours ago. My breathing picks up again, and so does my anxiety. Suddenly I feel something on my shoulders. I jolt. Oh, it’s just a blanket. Ann didn’t leave me after all. I can see her again. I can feel she is tapping my knee again. I try to match my breathing to it. It is hard, but after I don’t know how long, I can breathe normally again. Finally. She is handing me something. A stuffed animal. Why is she giving me that? I furrow my eyebrows to try to remember. I look down and spot the paper. Oh yeah, I pointed to what I would like to have at that moment.

I accept the stuffed animal. It’s a lynx. She has big, like really big, eyes and they look like they change colour when the light hits them from different angles. The colours of the rainbow. She’s my only stuffed animal. I haven’t ever really been a fan of stuffed animals, but something about Linx just made me love her the moment I laid my eyes on her. Yes, I named her Linx. Deal with it. Creativity is not my department. At least not creativity involving names.

“How you feeling now? Think you can sign?” I look at my hands. They’re not shaking badly anymore, so I try to sign a single ‘yes’. I then nod to her, giving her a hint of a smile. And she returns it tenfold. “Awesome. Do you want me to stay with you tonight? And before you ask; no. You wouldn’t be bothering me at all. I would do anything for you Vee. You know that!” she says, sounding stern, but stern in a soft way.

I chuckle soundlessly, feeling my anxiety ebb away. ‘I don’t think I’m going to have another panic attack at the moment, so I’m feeling better. Not good or great, but better.’ I have to stop after that. Signing that much after an attack can take the strength out of you. When I catch my breath again, I continue to sign. ‘And I would like it if you would stay with me.’

She nods, still smiling, though it’s softened. “I think it would be best for us to go to your bed and not staying here on the floor. Can you stand, or would you like me to pick you up and carry you to bed? 1 or 2?” she asks. I think about it for a bit. My legs feel like boiled spaghetti, so I think it would be a bad idea for me to try and walk; even with Anastacia’s help. I hold up two fingers. She nods.

Before she moves to pick me up, she closes the box and pushes it aside. Making sure it’s out of my sight so that I won’t even be able to see it even in my peripheral view. Pretty sure she knows that’s what caused the attack in the first place.

Before I know it, Ann and I are cuddled up on my bed at midnight. Wait, midnight? It’s already midnight? Wait, ‘already’? I mean ‘only’. I don’t know, my inner clock is broken from my many late nights. Insomnia’s a bitch.

“Goodnight, Vee. I love you more than you will ever believe. It’s always gonna be the two of us, no matter what. I’ll never leave you,” she whispers in my ear. Don’t make promises you can’t keep sis. Sooner or later, you’ll leave me too. It’s only a matter of time. You’ll get tired of having to put up with my shit and having to pull me out of panic attacks over stupid things. Just wait and see. You will.

Endnotes: If you have any notes on the panic attack Virgil has, and think it was totally wrongly written, then please let me know. It's my first time writing a panic attack. I have never had one myself, but I tried to research the best I could about them, how they felt, and how to help a person through them.

What was in the box, you ask? Well, stay tuned to find out. It might be a while, but Virgil will get the courage to open it up. Eventually.

I've never written a person with anxiety, so I might get a lot of things wrong. If you want to correct me, if I'm doing something completely wrong, please let me know.

Also, I've never written a trans person before, so if I'm writing their troubles wrong, or you just want to add something that might be useful, don't be afraid to comment and let me know.

Until next time. Take it easy guys, gal, and non-binary pals. See ya.

[miraclesnail]

Writer’s Month Day 17: Accidental Baby Acquisition

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

A continuation of day 14: fairy tale (x) (An AU where Connor is at CJ and Travis at CHB)

Any child below 6 years old is a baby to me.

Jason kinda remembers the day Connor came to camp. He himself arrived when he was three and Connor just a year later, the only two orphaned 4 year olds in all of Camp Jupiter.

Connor was… Connor was a bit on the shy side back then. Wouldn’t talk with anyone at their foster home. Would hide under the covers. Wouldn’t eat at all. Would cry all the time.

Then it all disappeared the seventh day he was with them. Just one day, all his sadness was seeped from him and replaced with an insurmountable eager curiosity like all four year olds.

Being Camp Half Blood, with his memory slowly recovering day by day, he remembers Connor. He remembers them proving themselves to get into the legion. He remembers Connor’s quiet whimpering when he has to get the SPQR tattoo. He remembers the very poorly imagined, but highly successful prank (the only one ever in all their years at Jupiter) they pulled on Octavian. He remembers late night talks about life and the war and responsibility.

He finally remembers Connor.

He remembers Connor.

He remembers Connor.

He doesn’t get angry often, but when your childhood friend is right there when you’re confused and anemiasic and didn’t do anything, you will get angry too.

It was hard to get ‘Travis’ by himself—always surrounded by people strangely enough— but when he finally did in the solitude of Cabin 1, he slams a hand on the wall beside ‘Travis’ head.

“You can drop it now,” Jason snaps but Connor still keeps at it. His mouth twitches upwards into a crooked smile and he chuckles nervously.

“W-what?”

“You. Can. Stop. Pretending. I got my memories back.”

Connor stares at him with an unchanging expression, mouth still up in that unsure smile. “Nice man. I’m happy for you.”

Jason groans and pulls back. “I remember you. You can stop with the acting now.”

Connor takes the opportunity to pull away too, a hand going to rub the back of his neck. Another tic when he’s nervous and stressed and Jason feels a twinge of guilt. Stressing Connor wasn’t his intent. What was supposed to happen was Connor breaking out into a big, great laugh and say ‘it took you long enough’ then they go take a swing at the climbing wall.

Connor shouldn’t be uncomfortable like he is now — crap, he didn’t even consider if the Gods were blackmailing Connor to keep quiet.

And Connor definitely shouldn’t be saying, “Look, Jason, I think you got the wrong person. I never met you before you came here last week.”

Three. Two. One. Cue the laughter. A hand clapping on his shoulder. Connor wiping a tear away. “Haha! You fell for it!”

There’s none of that.

Connor — Travis — chuckles again and offer an apologetic smile. “Sorry? I’m not the person you’re looking for.”

Jason takes a closer look at Travis. Travis has Connor’s hair color, a brown color similar to that of a tree’s bark. Eyes that are a slightly lighter shade than the hair. Face structure. Height. The curve of the nose. Their nervous tics. Even the voice. They’re all the same.

The only difference is that Travis smiles more, even in the presence of his superiors, but Connor would smile a lot too when he’s with him.

There’s no conceivable difference.

And if it weren’t for the honesty Jason can see in Travis’s still apologetic eyes, he would call bull.

“You’re not Connor.”

Travis shakes his head.

Jason watches his face for any gives but there is none and shit. He needs to talk with Annabeth and Chiron about this new discovery. He’s 100% certain Travis looks like Connor and if they aren’t the same person then they’re twins.

Maybe they’re what he and Thalia are. Same mother, but different God persona father.

“I’m sorry, Travis, for bothering you. I thought you were somebody else,” Jason apologizes.

Travis thankfully accepts his apology with a hearty pat on the back. “Don’t sweat about it man. I totally did not pee my pants from you glaring at me and dragging me to your cabin. And I totally did not imagine I was going to die gruesomely by your hands alone in his scary cabin.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt you,” Jason says, affronted.

But Travis laughs freely and that definitely is Connor’s laugh. “Dude, you are a scary person. Do you know that?”

“I’ve been told I look like a teddy bear.”

“Who told you that?”

“My friend, Connor.”

“Your friend, my doppelgänger, is lying to you.”

Jason shakes his head. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Connor says what we want to hear.”

“Hey, what kind of guy is my doppelgänger? He sounds like a pushover,” Travis asks, and Jason is painfully aware of the way his crooked grin slants more. It always does that when Connor’s being playful. Do twins share behaviors despite never meeting? Or maybe this is Connor with his identity replaced with a new name. But four beads are on his necklace. According to his knowledge, the beads correspond to years spent on Camp Half Blood. They’re not the same person.

But

‘What kind of guy is Connor?’

Jason’s smile soften. “Connor is loyal. Strong. A model Roman soldier. He’s someone who takes initiative.

“Jason, I can definitely do it! Give me the bomb and I’ll set it up.” “No. There’s 30 monsters standing between you and the site. You will die.” “Nobody else is volunteering and we need you to continue being our leader. Just let me do this, Superman.”

Someone who takes too much initiative. He’s on the front of every battle. He volunteers for crazy stunts no one wants to do. He follows orders to a tee.

Why didn’t you fight back?

He does whatever is asked of him.

Don’t let him talk down to you.

He never complains.

You’re Roman.

He never talks back.

You don’t have to prove it.

He lets people step over him.

You are one of us, Connor.

And I hate that about him.

[sparrow-flies-south]

Ten Things Chapter 8

Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairings: Anxceit, Royality Intrulogical Summary: Ten Things I Hate About You AU When Roman Prince learns that Patton Foster isn’t allowed to date until his older brother, Virgil, is, Roman is crushed. Roman’s twin brother Remus, however, comes up with a plan: find someone who is willing to date Virgil. And who better to ask than Janus Verona, who according to rumours is willing to do anything for the right price? Taglist (ask to be added): @glitchybina @ellietempest @imlikeaghostzombiejesus @anxiety-ismy-name

Notes: And I’m back! Thanks all of you for your patience with my break, I feel a lot more enthusiastic about this after some time away.

AO3 Link - Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven

Roman had evidently learned some measure of subtlety in the last couple of days, because this time he asked to meet in a secluded part of the school where no one was likely to see them.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Janus asked, leaning against the wall.

Roman was grinning widely, and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. It was rather sickening to watch.

“Patton and I are dating,” he said.

“Really?” Janus asked.

Roman nodded. “Yeah. At lunch on Monday I-”

“This is certainly news to me. The two of you aren’t obvious at all.”

Roman scowled. “We aren’t that bad, Lies and Dolls.”

“You loudly pronounced your love to him this morning. Is there a point to this?”

“Okay, first of all: How do you even know that? And second of all the point is that the scheme worked.”

Which meant that there was no use for it any more. The thought was not a comforting one.

“I don’t give refunds,” Janus said. Roman looked confused. “For the date tonight.”

“Yeah, I figured. You should probably go anyway, cancelling would be a dick move. Then just… I don’t know, let him down gently or something?”

Well, that had always been the plan. There was no need for him to be mean about it. Even so, there was only so nice you could be. Virgil would still be upset, though he would try to hide it.

And Janus would stop getting paid.

“I could,” Janus said, slowly, a plan forming in his head. “But that won’t work out in your best interest.”

Roman narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Imagine your boyfriend broke up with you, right after Remus suddenly starting seeing someone. An act that was conditional on you dating.”

“I wouldn’t suspect this!” Roman protested.

No, Janus thought, he probably wouldn’t. “Perhaps not, but Virgil is the suspicious type, wouldn’t you agree? And what happens if he decides to tell Patton about his suspicions?”

“Well, then what are you suggesting?”

Janus smiled internally. “Simple: we keep up the pretence. Give it a few weeks, and then I’ll find a reason to end things, and Virgil and Patton will be none the wiser.”

Roman looked torn. “I don’t know, won’t stringing him along just make it worse when you end it?”

“Worse than him knowing it was fake the entire time?”

Roman didn’t reply.

“If you wanted your conscious clear you would come clean to them,” Janus continued. “You just don’t want to think about what we’re doing. So don’t look. Let me handle everything; all you need to worry about is the money.”

He was so close now, Janus could feel it. All he needed was to give Roman the final push.

“No one needs to get hurt. Patton doesn’t need to get hurt.”

He could pinpoint the moment Roman decided; his shoulders slumped, facial expression turned defeated.

“Fine,” Roman said. “Do what you want.”

“Oh, Roman,” Janus said as he began to walk away. “I always do.”

 ***

“Maybe I should cancel,” Virgil said.

He was rummaging through his drawers for his old black hoodie. Patton was perched on his bed, watching. Janus had refused to dress anything less than perfect at school, so he’d gone home to get changed. Virgil supposed he should probably pick Janus up, then, but Janus had insisted on meeting at Virgil’s house.

“You’re not allowed to cancel,” Patton said.

The morning after the fight, Patton had smiled at Virgil at breakfast, and then began to talk about school, not mentioning Roman, and Virgil had gone along with it.

They continued to not mention Roman for the rest of the day, and the day after. And Virgil had been too busy thinking about his date to even attempt to bring it up.

“This was a terrible idea. He’s going to figure out a weirdo and then hate me forever.”

“He won’t hate you.”

Virgil snorted. “How do you know? He’s Janus, who knows how he thinks?”

“You really care about how this goes, don’t you?” Patton asked softly.

“I mean, yeah.” Virgil tugged at the hem of his t-shirt. “It’s a date. Doesn’t everyone care about how dates go?”

“Probably. But most people aren’t going out with Janus Verona.”

Virgil frowned. “You don’t like him?”

“Isn’t that what brothers do?” Patton asked, slightly bitterly.

Virgil grimaced. “Look, Patton-”

“Anyway!” said Patton, his voice too light. “You have a date to get ready for.”

“I don’t think there’s much more getting ready than this,” Virgil pointed out. “Patton-“

The doorbell rang before Virgil could say more. Patton leaped off the bed excitedly.

“That’s him!”

“Patton,” Virgil repeated, but Patton just shook his head.

“You’re going to miss you’re date. Go.”

“We’ll talk later,” Virgil said.

“Well of course! I want to hear all about it.”

That wasn’t what Virgil meant, but he didn’t bother arguing. He let Patton usher him out of his room, and to the front door.

Janus was dressed in sweatpants and a faded band t-shirt. It was so different from his usual, perfect appearance, that Virgil couldn’t help staring.

“Surprised?” Janus asked.

“Kind of, yeah,” Virgil admitted. “I didn’t think you could dress less extra.”

“No one will ever believe you,” Janus said, and Virgil laughed.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where we’re going?” Janus asked once they were in Virgil’s car.

“It’s a surprise.”

“What if I were to bribe you?”

Virgil glanced over at Janus. “What would you bribe me with?”

“How about a kiss?”

Virgil’s heart stuttered in a way that probably meant he was about to have a heart attack, but for once he wasn’t worried. “You know,” he said, trying to be light, “If you keep flirting I might crash the car.”

Janus hmmed. “And I would so hate to miss our date. Very well, what should we talk about instead?”

Virgil considered. “How many of the rumours about you are true?”

He’d been wondering it for a while. Pretty much since they first spoke, and Janus had acted… well, not terrible.

“Very few,” Janus said. “How many of the rumours about you are true?”

“There are rumours about me?”

“You lurk at the back of classrooms and never talk to anyone. Occasionally you act rather menacing to certain individuals. Of course there are rumours about you.”

Virgil spent his time at school trying to not attract attention. Apparently, that had worked. He grimaced at the thought.

“I only act ‘menacing’ when I have to.”

Like when someone tried to take advantage of Patton. Or when someone invited Patton to a part and then broke his heart.

“I wasn’t judging,” Janus said. “I find fear can be a very good protection. What rumours were you wondering about?”

The change of subject was welcome, and Virgil wondered if Janus had done it deliberately, if he’d somehow picked up on how uncomfortable Virgil was.

“Did you really blackmail the principal?”

“Oh, you heard that,” Janus sounded pleased. “I actually made that one up myself.”

“Why?”

“Like I said, fear can be a very good protection. Any others?”

Virgil considered this. He’d never actually payed much attention to the rumours before he’d spoken to Janus. Virgil knew enough to keep away from him, and it always seemed impossible that someone like Virgil would catch his attention.

But that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard about them, and most of the things he heard came from a single source.

“Luc Edwards,” Virgil said at last.

“What about him?” Janus asked.

“He says you’re a monster.”

“Yes, I know,” Janus said. “It’s hardly a new development.”

“What happened between you two?”

Janus was quiet for a while. Long enough that Virgil began to panic, thinking he’d over stepped a line. He should probably apologise now, before Janus told him to shut up.

“I revealed something Luc wanted kept secret,” Janus answered.

“That’s kind of a cryptic answer,” Virgil pointed out.

“Maybe so.”

Virgil considered whether he should keep digging, when he spotted a large sign. He pulled off the road and into the parking lot.

“Paintballing?” Janus asked.

Virgil chewed his lip. “Yeah. Is that a problem? Because we could always do something else.”

“Not at all,” Janus said. “I was just trying to figure out if I should go easy on you.”

Virgil grinned. “Oh, it is on.”

 ***

When people said to beware the quiet ones, they were talking specifically about Virgil Foster and paintballing. It wasn’t that Virgil was faster than Janus, or even that he had better aim. No, Virgil was sneaky.

His tactics were to find somewhere to hide (usually on top of something he probably wasn’t meant to climb on), wait for Janus to go by, and then ambush him and run off before Janus had even realised what had happened.

“How are you so good at this?” Janus complained to thin air.

Someone sniggered behind him, and Janus spun around to see Virgil perched on some bales of hay that had been piled up. While Janus was covered in paint, Virgil appeared mostly clean.

“Pure talent,” Virgil said. “Are you ready to concede defeat yet?”

“Oh, I never concede defeat,” Janus said, and he fired his gun.

Virgil shrieked as a paintball hit him in the chest, finally, and ducked back behind cover. Janus charged forwards. He turned the corner and fired without looking at when he knew Virgil was hiding. It was only when he came to a stop that he realised no one was there.

Something hit Janus from behind. He spun around, and there was Virgil, grinning at him. His gun was still pointed at Janus’ chest.

“Well,” Janus said. “It appears you have me at your mercy.”

“Really?” Virgil said, stepping closer. “Because I feel like you’re planning on shooting me.”

“There is nothing I’d like more,” Janus said, crossing the distance between them.

Virgil lowered his gun as Janus came forwards, so they were standing almost chest to chest. Without quite meaning to, Janus laid his hand against Virgil’s cheek. This close, he could hear Virgil’s breath hitch.

“Do it,” Virgil said, and Janus pressed his lips to Virgil’s.

Virgil’s lips parted immediately, deepening the kiss. Janus let the paintball gun drop from his hand so that he could bring it up to rest on Virgil’s shoulder. Far too soon, Virgil gently pulled away.

Janus could only watch, dazed, as Virgil’s look shifted to one of mischief.

Something splashed against Janus’ chest. Virgil had hit him with a paintball.

Laughing, Virgil darted away. Janus didn’t bother with his gun, just chased after him instead. He tackled Virgil into a pile of hay that Virgil had hidden in earlier in the game. Virgil laughed and struggled out of Janus’ grip, knocking Janus onto his back. He flopped down next to him, so they were lying shoulder to shoulder.

“Tell me something true,” Virgil said.

“You’re amazing,” Janus said without thinking.

Virgil began to turn red. “Stop,” he said, smacking Janus lightly on the arm.

“You’re the one that wanted to hear it,” Janus pointed out.

“I said true, not flattering.”

“Can’t something be both?”

Janus leaned in for another kiss, which Virgil received eagerly. “You’re amazing,” he repeated, and the strange thing was he meant it.

“You’re not bad,” Virgil said, and then laughed at Janus’ expression.

A buzzer sounded, letting them know that their time was up. Janus got to his feet and held out a hand to help Virgil.

“No, but seriously,” Virgil said as they walked back to the entrance. “You’re amazing too.”

It was only later, when Janus had said goodbye to Virgil and was on his way back home, that he remembered that none of it was real.

[lildevyl]

The Hounds, Chapter One: Regrets

A/N:  Well, I did some cleaning and found a box full of notebooks that used to write some of other fanfics.  So, I think I might start posting them on here.  Don’t worry, I’ll tag them all so if your not a fan of certain fandoms then you don’t have to read them!  If you like them, make sure to punch that Like/Reblog Button and please give me your feedback in comments!  Constructive Criticism is welcome because it will help  me become a better writer.

Summary:   Seth Rollins deeply regrets breaking up the Shield and joining the Authority.   He wants to write this wrong, by doing anything to rebuild the bridge he destroyed and reunite with his "family," The Shield.   By making a deal with the Devil.

=========================================================

Chapter: One:  Regrets

Seth Rollins was a man of action.  He firmly believed and lived by the belief that actions spoke louder than words.  He never really talked that much, unlike his persona on camera.  He let his actions speak for him, both in and out of the ring.  He worked his ass off to get to where he is today, the World Heavyweight Champion.  Seth was also a man with very little things that he ever regretted doing in life.  He always planned five or more steps ahead, weighing his options, figuring out what the consequences might be, before he acted or reacted.

But sometimes, Seth had made mistakes, had made the wrong decisions, and at times, he even listened to some people that he never would have in the first place.  And when that happened, Seth deeply regretted it.  Sometimes, he was able to patch things up with the others, but there were few times.  Where that bridge was burned to the ground beyond repair.  When that happens, Seth at times would beat himself up.  Taking things out on others without meaning too. 

The pressure of what he did, kept building, and building, and building, to the breaking point and then the damn broke.  The cap of the bottle that he kept all his feelings and emotions, that he never wanted anyone to see, finally popped off.  The glass broke, the armor had finally cracked and everyone could see the chink in the armor now.

Seth couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror anymore because the man, who stared back at him.  He didn't even recognize him anymore.  Let alone knew who it was that was staring back at him.  How much had he change and not for the better?  How low did he sink?  Was it worth it?  Was it worth it Seth?  Was it worth it burning that bridge that you three had worked so hard on to make and did everything together?  Was it worth it to break up your family?

Family.  That's what they were, a family.  A dysfunctional family, but a family nonetheless.  All of them taking the wrestling world by storm with little to no regrets.  Meeting up with one another, in the Indy Circuit.  Taking Championships and making names for themselves and they even had so many fans following them before they even knew who they were on a National and International level!  Tag team Champions, Heavyweight Championship, World Championship, World Heavyweight Championship, Pure Wrestling Championship, Cruiserweight Championship, Junior Weight Championship, and Television Championship, from ROH, UPW, CZW, different states main wrestling promotions and even New Japan.  That’s what the Shield was all about.  Checking off names on their list, taking Championships as they went and leaving everyone behind in their dust.

They were the Hounds.  That was what the fans had called them when they first tagged together, and that was what they called themselves afterwards.  They were The Hounds of Wrestling.  Hunting down the gold and claiming it for themselves and leaving no room for anyone to take the gold off of them.  When they came to WWE, it was like a fresh of breath air.  New victims (competitors), new championships for them to claim and have around their waist, like a brand new trophy.  But most importantly of all, a new battle ground for them to make a name for themselves and have everyone on a National level know their name, inside and out.

The Shield.  That was the name Hunter and Stephanie came up with for them and it sounded great!  The Shield, the name fit, for who they were.  Protecting their own, protecting those who had earned their trust, maybe they could even start a side business in the wrestling business.  After all, wrestlers do have enemies and who better to protect a champion and learn all about them then a fellow wrestler?  Seth, Roman, and Dean had their sights set on so many wrestlers to help make them famous and to make a name for themselves (sorry Taker. It was just business).  Never climb the ladder when you can bulldoze your way to the top of the line for championship gold.  Tag Team, United States, Intercontinental and even the World Heavyweight Championship was in their grasp.

But then Seth Rollins did the most stupidest thing he ever did in his life (and career), and that was saying something!  He listened to the Authority!  The Authority!  He listened to them, on what they were saying and at the time it sounded so good!  Championship gold.  Their name in lights.   Main event status!  It sounded too good to be true but Seth was too eager to say yes!   He wanted it all!  All of their hard work had finally paid off!  The Shield was finally going to get the glory they so rightfully deserved!

Yeah right.  The only thing the Authority had in mind was Seth.  Seth being their little "golden boy."  Seth being the "new face of the WWE, the new face for the Authority."  And Seth was too blind to see the lies, to see the consequences that had cost him everything.  Yeah, Seth was the World Heavyweight Champion, and everybody knew his name now.  But at what price?

He couldn’t even look at the Authority with the same gleam in his eyes.  It wasn’t even there anymore.  It was dull, emotionless, painful, but he could put on a good show.  That's all it was, a show.  He couldn’t even look at Roman and Dean without seeing the hurt, pain, betrayal and hatred in their eyes at him   He couldn’t even look at them without the pain, longing, hurt, and hatred towards himself for what he did.  He betrayed them.  He stabbed them in the back.   He broke the Shield.  No, that wasn’t quite right.  What Seth did, he broke up their pack.  They were the Hounds and he betrayed them.

=========================================================

(Raw)

On Raw July 13, 2015, before Battleground.  Seth Rollins did what he did to Kane, all because of the pent up anger, self-hatred, self-loathing, and all the regrets, and frustration  It had built up too much and Seth just finally snapped!  He took it all out on Kane.

The anger at the Authority, the self-hatred for what he did to his family and of what he had become.  The monster he turned in to.  The regrets of ever betraying his brothers and joining the Authority in the first place!  The frustration of not recognizing the man staring back at him every time Seth looked at himself in the mirror.  It all came out.  It all exploded inside of him and all he saw was himself. Weak, ignorant, stupid, gullible, eager, Corporate's little puppet!  That was what Seth Rollins saw and that was what Seth Rollins was destroying that night.  He was destroying the image of himself.

=========================================================

(Smackdown)

On Smackdown, Seth Rollins was pacing in his locker room.  He couldn’t believe what he just did on Raw!  Oh, my god.  How could he have done that to Kane?  Kane?!  What kind of a person did Seth turn in too?  A self-loathing, regretful, hateful, the Authority and Corporate’s new face of wrestling, yes man.  That’s what he had become.  He became Corporate’s new toy.   Their new trophy to show off on display, claiming that they are the top dogs and are the number one people in the WWE.

Yeah, right.  If they were the number one people in this company then Seth Rollins (Tyler Black) would lose to AJ Styles, Jay Lethal, and Jay Briscoe in a fatal four way match at Honor Before Dishonor.  Oh, wait.  That already happened.  Wow, how low did Seth sink?  He attack Kane?   Kane, the Director of Operations?  Kane, the Big Red Machine?  Kane, the Devil’s Favorite Demon?  The one that no matter what kept coming back after he and his brother, The Undertaker, destroyed each other?

Oh.  My.  God.  Seth, what did you do?  You sold your soul to the Corporate Devil and now you're taking that decision of making the deal, out on others:  That's what you did!  You betrayed your brothers!  You destroyed your family! Stabbed them in the back, just so you could be World Heavyweight Champion again.  And now you took out on the only one that might have been able to help you.  To save you from yourself and from what the Authority has done to you! That’s what you did!

Seth stopped pacing his locker room and looked into the mirror.  He hated what he saw.  His inner argument had stopped.  That little voice in his head was right.  He, Seth Rollins, had sold out.  He sold out his family, his brothers, his pack.  And for what?  For the World Heavyweight Championship that he might not even come out on top of?

Seth made a decision right then and there.  When he returned to his hotel room, he would call Kane and apologize.  And when Kane was cleared to come back to full fill his Director of Operations position.  Seth would talk to Kane and see if he could get some advice.  Who better to know what Seth might be going through or had lived through then Kane?  He had to have done some things that he might not have been proud of.  Maybe Kane had done some things that he even regretted doing, especially with all those feuds he had with his brother the Undertaker.

With that in mind Seth left his locker room to go face his opponent.  He just hoped that Kane would at least let him explain for what he did on Raw.  Seth regretted it, once he realized what it was that he did to Kane.  Kane didn’t deserve that and Kane certainly didn’t deserve to be Seth’s punching bag.

[inactiive-shit]

Electricity

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Masterlist

Warnings: references to past issues, intrusive thoughts, Remus-normal stuff

Pairings: Platonic Intruality, background romantic Royality

Words: 2,224

Summary: Remus is like the clock that still has cogs. He does work. It is just a different kind of working than others are used to. Sometimes, he must be wound, sometimes his gears malfunction and he must be reset. Sometimes people ignore his face for the ones printed in pretty, glowing numbers.

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

Remus is vibrating.

That’s not some weird metaphor for sex, he’s not alluding to anything that isn’t exactly what he means.

What he means is: his body is running about a million gigawatts through every single atom. How else would you explain the flailing arms, bouncing legs, loud screeching noise that is coming out of his mouth, or the white streak in his hair that he swears wasn’t there yesterday? No, there is no other explanation. Remus is being electrocuted enough to kill an elephant ten times over and he still has the unfortunate luck to not only be living through it but aware of it as well.

Which, really, depending on which Gods he’s currently worshipping, is deserved. Zeus would probably smite him, given half a chance. But that isn’t Remus’s problem until it actually happens, and this isn’t that.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This was one thousand - I’ll raise you two - I’ll raise you three thousand percent electricity made and controlled by Remus’s own brain because sometimes even his body is against him. He can’t always control the bullshit that comes out of his mouth, and sometimes he feels disconnected from his arms when they flail around and accidentally land a gnarly black eye, and do you really think he would keep bouncing a hole through the floor with his leg if he had the choice to just stop for a minute?

But he doesn’t, because things often don’t work out for Remus. It’s just what he’s come to expect. Stupid because he can’t do easy things, nonsensical because he can do hard ones. Confusing because he reads with music on, lying because he can hear your watch ticking from across the room and cannot do simple math with a distraction like that. Uncaring being so impulsive, wrong for trying to be considerate. Always, always, Remus is never enough.

Remus is like the clock that still has cogs. He does work. It is just a different kind of working than others are used to. Sometimes, he must be wound, sometimes his gears malfunction and he must be reset. Sometimes people ignore his face for the ones printed in pretty, glowing numbers.

He doesn’t know who the problem really belongs to, whether he is running too fast for everyone else’s day, so that he has twenty-eight hours for their twenty-four, or if they simply don’t know how to read the time on an analog clock, with it’s spinning hands and whirring parts. He figures there’s not much to figure out about all that, not really. At the end of the day, he is the one out-numbered, he is the one impulsive, he is the one with oxymorons that run like code through his system that works for him and no one else.

Remus is not the problem, he is their problem.

But right now, more specifically, he is Patton’s problem. Roman had left him alone in his house, assuring him that he’d be back in half an hour. Due to some crappy traffic, crashes, making a few other stops, and having his other friends require his help, Remus was still sitting - bouncing off the walls in his house alone when Roman’s fiance Patton got back.

In the twenty minutes proceeding, it’s all been downhill.

“Remus, please stop that,” Patton says, mouth twisted into a politely downturned smile most likely because it’s not the first time he’s said it. This is also not the first thing Remus has done that made Patton ask him to please stop. It doesn’t feel like as much of a win as it usually does with Patton’s genuine if nervous smile when he’d first seen Remus today.

Remus launches the bouncy ball at the wall again, snatching it out of the air before it can shoot away to break one of their overly expensive vases. He grins at Patton, lips pulling a little too wide, and does it one more time, then pockets the ball.

“So so so,” Remus sings, flipping himself upside down on the couch and staring at Patton. “What’s up with you, A-Pat-thy? Get it? Like apathy but-”

“But with my name, yeah,” Patton says. There’s almost a smile on his face, which is not the kind of reaction Remus’s nicknames usually get but he’s not objecting. “Wait here,” Patton says and leaves the living room. Remus takes the ball out of his pocket and puts it in his mouth instead. There’s not much reason to it, just rough and round and in mouth. It has no taste but it feels like stretchy sand, which Remus will make the second he gets the supplies he needs.

“Let me ask you,” Patton says, returning with one hand held behind his back, “how fondue you find puns?” He presents Remus with fondue-covered bread. Remus jumps off the couch, clapping his hands.

“Oh, punderful!” he exclaims, accepting the bread for the olive branch it is. Remus may be a million things that other people have accused him of, but he’s never been dense - as much as Roman would have liked him to notice less. He knows a peace offering when he sees one.

“That’s just too cheesy!” Patton says, really laughing.

“You better be bread-y because there’s more where that came from,” Remus says, pointing at Patton with his bread. He cackles.

“Well, well, well, you better just Skittle on out of here, because puns are my business and you are about to go bake-rupt,” Patton says. He makes finger guns at Remus and Remus collapses back onto the couch, clutching his wounds gravely.

“Oh no, the Sheriff of Punnery has yeasted me again.” Patton wrinkles his nose. “On bested?” Remus asks. He refrains from saying his buns were just too powerful because that can carry connotations and this is his brother’s fiance; he doesn’t want to make things too weird when he actually kind of does want Patton to not-hate him.

“It’s passable,” Patton says. “But I think I out-punned you this round.” They both laugh at the last, unexpected pun of their duel, and Remus has to concede defeat here. He nods acceptingly.

“I must agree. My brother has picked a worthy adversary.” Remus’s leg starts bouncing again now that he’s sitting down, and the electricity is coming back full force so that the air around his skin is crackling with energy he can’t touch. It’s arcing through his veins like molten rocks, leaving behind a desire to jump and scream and move, but his leg bounces and he picks at his nails and chews his lips and tries not to be any more obnoxious than he has to be.

“I have some spaghetti I was going to heat up for dinner,” Patton says. “It’s nothing special, and if I’d known you were coming I would have made something better, but we can split it.”

“That sounds pasta-tively delicious,” Remus says. “I can’t remember the last time I had spaghetti.” Patton laughs and goes back to the kitchen - which, from Remus’s limited understanding of their life, is where Patton lives. He can’t say for sure, but he’s pretty sure Patton is some kind of human-sized brownie that enjoys cooking. Is it technically bestiality that Roman is going to marry him?

Remus is still musing over Patton’s perilous status as human and rubbing the carpet bare with the ball of his foot when Patton returns with two plates of spaghetti. He sits on the couch next to Remus, which is strange. Not many people sit next to Remus if they can help it. He doesn’t say anything though. As much as he’d like to make a crude innuendo or pun (as much as they’re clawing up his throat to be voiced), he will not mess this up. They’ve only just decided to be brothers again, and he won’t fuck up like last time.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks, jolting Remus. He nods hurriedly.

“It tastes better than any gourmet rat I’ve ever had,” he says, shoving another handful in his mouth. Patton’s face twists up again, but Remus can’t and won’t just not talk. “You know, there are a lot less rats in dumpsters than you’d expect to find. And there’s a lot of stuff that’s totally functional that people just throw away. It’s crazy. The world would quit working without trashmen. They can make or break an entire neighborhood. Once, when Roman and I were kids, there was a huge storm on garbage night, ended up with trash all up and down the streets. I don’t know who cleaned it up, but it wasn’t us.” Remus keeps talking until he’s forced to stop to breathe at which point Patton interjects.

“I noticed that you move around a lot.” Remus immediately stops all movement before it picks back up and the intensity increases. “Which is fine,” Patton continues hurriedly, “but I was just wondering if you had heard of something called pressure stimming? It helps me when I start to get restless. I just thought of it because fidgeting that much makes me tired.”

“I have never not ever heard of such a thing,” Remus says, speaking quickly. He flutters a hand through the air and it looks kind of like a drunk hummingbird. Wouldn’t that be an interesting sight? Remus adds it to his to-do list. “What does it entail?”

“You just apply pressure to yourself, like sitting on your legs or something. Or you can do it with another person on a larger scale.”

Remus doesn’t say doing it, huh? How forward of you despite that being the loudest thought in his head for approximately five seconds. “You mean punching people.” Remus nods wisely. Punching is a good way to calm down.

“No!” Patton cries. “Nothing violent! Like cuddling.”

“Yeah,” Remus says slowly, “I have no idea what you mean.” He lifts a shoulder nonchalantly and shoves another handful of spaghetti into his mouth. But then his plate is lifted out of his lap and he looks up into Patton’s eyes, much closer now than he had been a few seconds ago.

“What’re you doing?” Remus whines, watching his plate leave him with all the regret he can summon.

“Can we cuddle?” Patton asks. “Like, platonically?”

“Uhm, sure?” Remus says. Patton pushes him so that he’s laying down flat on the couch. Remus turns his head to look at the wall and wonders what on earth his brother’s fiance is about to do. If something goes bad here, if Patton does something Remus didn’t ask for, Roman will still believe Patton over him.

Remus can’t lose his brother again. Not so soon after getting him back.

“What are you,” Remus starts and begins to sit up, but then Patton is flopping carefully on top of him. Remus’s back is pressed firmly into the couch. Patton makes a comforting weight on his chest that almost lets him drown out the stupid voice in his head yelling chew his hair and pull the threads so his shirt comes undone and he’s in eye-poking range.

“Take a deep breath,” Patton says. Remus does as he’s told without thinking about it first - not always a good thing to do - and immediately feels like he’s settled exactly where he’s supposed to be, with the couch firm under him and Patton solid above. He’s content.

He hasn’t felt like that in a long, long time.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks.

“Yeah,” Remus says. He reaches up hesitantly to rub his eyes, almost afraid that if he moves this apparition will evaporate (it wouldn’t be the first time.) “It’s...nice.”

“I’m glad,” Patton says. He pauses for a moment and Remus wonders what thing he’s not saying, what Remus is doing that is wrong and bad and loathed-

“You’re not fidgeting as much,” he says quietly, which is definitely not what Remus had been expecting. “Do you feel calmer?”

“I-uh.” Remus chokes and he flutters a hand in the air before trapping it at his side. He’s surprised to realize that he doesn’t really feel that electricity burning through his synapses, telling him to pick his hand back up and fling it around like a badminton racquet when the shuttlecock has gone out of range. How strange.

Remus’s eyes flutter shut before he can stop it and he sighs heavily, giving himself fully over to the comfort of the moment. “Yeah. I feel calmer.” His fingers trace patterns against his pants and his leg shifts. Patton moves slightly and Remus holds his breath, hoping that he hasn’t done anything to make Patton mad at him, but he only adjusts himself to Remus’s new position and stays where he is.

Patton hums on top of him, and while the otherwise silent house is a bit too much for Remus, this noise isn’t entirely unpleasant. He finds himself slipping away, feeling so tired and okay and really, actually safe here that he shuts off before he can stop it. His last solid thought is wondering if Patton is like a lightning rod, attracting the electricity out of Remus so that Remus can finally relax. His brother really did fall in love with someone good. Despite everything, Remus is glad that he’ll have that.

He falls asleep without electricity snapping against his skin. It is a singularly amazing experience.

[deadanddeactivated]

Intrusive Concern

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Deceit, Orange/Wrath, others mentioned Pairings: Remus & Virgil Warnings: It’s from Remus’ POV so there’s lots of Remus-y thoughts Summary: Remus is a 'Dark Side'.  He knows that, he's accepted that, but he never wanted it.

And now Virgil isn't one, and Remus can't let Deceit ruin that.

AO3

--

Remus is a 'Dark Side'.  He knows that, he's accepted that, but he never wanted it.

"I'm not evil."  He used to mutter to himself.  Back when Thomas was young and the split was fresh.

"Of course not."  Roman used to scoff.  "You're half of me, and there's no way I can be evil."  Back before Thomas had focused on Roman alone.  Before Remus was shoved to the back of his mind to be ignored and forgotten and denied.

"Of course you are."  Wrath had smirked.  "But that's fine, we can still make Thomas see you."  Back when he was the first Side Remus had seen in years.  Back when Roman had long since stopped seeking him out.

Remus had been desperate then.  Desperate to be seen and heard and acknowledged.  So he'd taken Wrath's hand and he'd joined the 'Dark Sides' (as Roman would would one day dub them, as Wrath alone would embrace). And he hated it.

He doesn't mutter to himself anymore.  Remus has accepted his place on the 'Dark Sides' and he gets it now.  'Being evil' wasn't his call to make - it was Thomas'.  Thomas thinks he’s dark and so he is.  There's no changing that, not when Thomas doesn't so much as react to thinking about jumping out of a moving car, let alone wonder where the thought came from.

The others like to claim they’re in the same boat as Remus.  Or Deceit likes to go on about how this is 'totally his choice and what he wants' while Wrath waxes lyrical about how darkness was something thrust upon him.

It's all a bunch of butthole.  

They aren't like him.  They aren't half of a whole, easily split into 'good' and 'bad' no matter how inaccurate the terms.  No, they aren't like that, they're whole.  Whole and complete and not missing a part of himself and-

Remus feels a wave of energy as his thoughts slip into Thomas' and sighs.  Usually he tries to be a little more creative with his influence, but it can't be helped now.  Maybe later he'll have Thomas think about pushing Joan in front of a car, he does have a reputation to keep.  What would Wrath do if he discovered how little Remus cared for the whole 'brooding, evil, edgelord' vibe?  Especially after…

Ah, but Remus' thoughts are getting ahead of him.  He isn't up to that part yet.  No, he's thinking about Deceit and Wrath and how they don't have to be ‘Dark Sides’.  They're whole aspects of Thomas, they cover a lot more than what they're named after.  If they only played their cards right, Remus is sure they wouldn't be about of the unwanted.  Thomas would see them in a whole new light (ha).

Fear was just proof of that.

Sorry, Anxiety.  Well actually Virgil.  Remus has such trouble keeping track of what that side is going by these days.  Maybe he should just mix all the names, cover all his bases at once.  What would that even be? 

Virgity?  Anear?  Fexigil?

Ha.  The first two sound almost like dirty words.  He'll have to start using one of those whenever he sees Virgil.

Not that he ever sees Virgil.  Even back when he was Fear, he avoided Remus like the plague.  

That had hurt once.  Back before he pressed Deceit for why and got a happily spoken answer, "Wrath totally hasn't talked you up as a super negative influence on Thomas.  Virg definitely isn't scared of you.  Why would he be?  He's Fear."  

Remus supposes he'll be pulled away from people forever.  Roman was first, pulled away by Thomas and the wanted sides, and now Wrath had pulled him away from Virgil.  How long until someone pulled him away from Deceit?

He visited once, after Virgil officially shed his identity as Fear but before he'd really become one of them.  He just popped up one afternoon as the newly dubbed Anxiety (that's what he was going by then, right?) paced his room, now floating somewhere between the wanted and the unwanted sides.  Remus really only wanted to give him his congratulations, to tell Virgil how happy jealous he was.  It did not go well.  It never does.

"Well, well, well it really worked.  Maybe you should be creativity, hm?"  He joked.  Virgil had hissed as he turned to face Remus who just kept grinning just keep grinning.  The vaguely lit side had already been tense but Remus could see it get worse, so scared even as he glared and held his ground.  "You managed to recreate yourself after all.  Oh, do you think we could really swap?  We can clearly change."  Remus continued.  He never liked silence.

"Leave me alone Duke."  Virgil managed through clenched teeth.  He knew Remus name, he didn't have to use that title.  Why did everyone always use that title?  Why was he always lesser?  "I'm not like you, I don't want any part of your schemes."

"No, you're not."  Remus agreed.  You're whole, he wanted to say, not like me.  No matter how much I change, I'll always be a half.  Always be the Dark to Roman's Light.

Instead, he perked up.  "But hey, do you think the others think that?"  It was meant to be an innocent question.  A conversation starter.

Instead, the bags under Virgil's eyes got darker.  The same way more and more of Fear's eyes would start to dart around when Remus was near. 

"They don't know."  Virgil claimed, voice layered and wrong.  Something shifted in Thomas as Virgil's paranoia spiked.  "They can't know!"

Remus didn't visit Virgil again.

He sticks to the back of Thomas' mind.  Somehow, he finds himself hating it even more now.  Which is ridiculous, because things aren't different without Virgil.  Not for him, they'd never been friends.

And yet, Remus starts avoiding Wrath as the side simmers away. Which is, admittedly, pathetically easy once Wrath locks himself away in his room.  Not that that will last.  The second Thomas gives him the chance, he'll boil over and even Remus doesn't want to see that kind of destruction.  Well actually it might be interesting… he'll have to think about it.

Watching as Deceit grows bolder without Virgil around to hold him back is harder because suddenly Thomas sees him, knows him, and god Remus wants that so bad it's not fair.  But harder still is listening to Deceit becoming more and more desperate to convince himself Virgil isn't really gone.

"He hasn't abandoned us!  He's just, building up to some grand scheme.  We'll see!"  He used to scream.  Back when Virgil first left them.  Those defenses had quickly morphed into claims of, "They've manipulated him.  We just need to snap him out of it and he'll come back!"  Sometimes Remus wonders if Deceit knows how much he lies to himself.  Sometimes he wonders if Virgil knew.

Remus stays out of it.  He listens and he gives Deceit empty words or he redirects the conversation but he stays in the back of Thomas' mind.  Oh he thinks plenty about the ways he could step in.  Dramatic displays that will lead to Virgil liking him and Thomas seeing him and Roman letting him join in again.  But he doesn't act on any of it.

Then he overhears Deceit saying something and that changes.

"If Thomas wants to be more honest with himself," he starts, spitting the word 'honest' like it's poison, how would a snake even poison itself, or would someone else be poisoning it, would someone have to force feed a snake poison to do that, "then all his sides should be honest."

"Qh, plotting in the dark again.  That's bad for your eyes.  Or at least one of them.  Would the human one or the snake one be worse off?  We should test this.  And also their reactions to acid."  Remus decides, grinning when Deceit glares.

"Do keep distracting me Remus."  He said.  "It's not like I'm coming up with the perfect plan to get Virgil back or anything unimportant like that."

"Oh?"  Remus prompts.  "Does it involve rope?" He asks, conquering a rope in his hands.

“No!”  Deceit snaps, too frustrated to remember to lie.  He gets like that when he’s frustrated, or excited, or startled.  It never lasts long.  “Thomas is not obsessed with being honest, yes?”

“No?”  Remus frowns like he’s not used to the way Deceit talks.  He does, but Deceit likes to think he’s confusing people and Remus is more than happy to play along.  Especially now.

“Exactly!”  Deceit says.  Idoly, barely away he’s doing it, Remus starts to tie and untie the rope.  “Well, how do you think he’ll feel when he hears that Virgil’s been lying to him from the start?  He’ll hate it, they all will.  And Virgil will remember how horrible they are and finally come back.”  For just a moment, Remus freezes in his motions.  Deceit’s too excited to notice.

“So you’re going to pop up and reveal him?”  Remus asks, humming to himself.  “That doesn’t seem very grand of you.  I thought you were better than that De.”  He tsked.

“Well I hadn’t tried dropping rather obvious hints to get them to ask.  That would work!  They aren’t all oblivious idiots that ignore my every hint.”  Deceit hisses.

“Don’t look at me like that.  I’m not Thomas’ intelligence.”  Remus claims, raising his hands in a surrender position only to realize he’s gotten them quite tangled in all his fidgeting.  With a glare, Deceit waves his hand and the ropes become a snake which easily untangles itself.  “Oh kinky.”  Remus says.  “Snakes would make for a very interesting BDSM night, you know.”

“Oh I most certainly do what to know.  I just love talking to you sometimes.”  Deceit huffs and then cringes as he thinks of it anyway.  “Obviously I won’t be dramatic as ever when I don’t reveal Virgil because at this point my only option is not to just tell them.  They’ll most definitely believe me, but that matters because Virgil will stay incredibly calm.”  He says, getting back to the matter at snake-tied hand. 

“As long as you’re dramatic.”  Remus says.  “Do let me know if you need any ideas.”  He grins.

“Never.”  Deceit grins back.  With a wave, Remus leaves for his room.

With the door shut firmly and safely behind him, Remus let the frown take over his face.  What would Thomas do when Deceit revealed Virgil?  What would the other sides do?  Even Virgil’s reaction is a worry.  Remus can think of several outcomes, none of them good.  Not for Thomas and not for them either.

“I can’t let that happen.”  Remus decides.  Virgil’s gotten out, he’s broken the pattern.  There is no changing Remus, Wrath will never want to change, and Deceit’s too dependant on Wrath to try.  But Virgil got out.  Deceit can’t ruin that.  Sure, Virgil left them behind but so did everyone else Remus can’t fault him for it.  

So Remus decides to get creative, and he decides to do something.

Subtly isn’t exactly his birthday suit, but Remus thinks he did a pretty good job.  It wasn’t particularly fun - acting full on ‘bad guy’, bending the truth like that - but it worked.  Better than Remus expected actually.  Thomas had actually, truly seen him.  And sure he wasn’t about to listen to Remus, but that’s fine.  He’s used to that.  It’s enough that Thomas saw him, enough that the others don’t fear him anymore.  Maybe he should send Logan a fruit basket.  Oh a book basket!  Of books he can eat!  Candy books!  Books on candy?  Replacement teeth?

Ah, but that wasn’t the point.  The point was that it worked!  Virgil got the message.  If Remus is honest, and he usually is, he hadn’t expected Virgil to just tell Thomas himself.  His thoughts were more along the lines of an epic showdown between Virgil and Deceit where Virgil ensured De would keep his secret, and De realized that Virg was really gone forever, that things had changed.

But oh well, no epic show down.  Disappointing because Remus always loved seeing Virgil go all out, but probably for the best.  He’s not sure De could handle that.  There were certainly some almost-sides that hadn’t.

At least Virgil’s methods worked.  Sure Thomas knew, but it was on Virgil’s terms.  That had to mean something.  At the very least Virgil’s room hadn’t reappeared down the hall.

Did Remus mention he’d been seen?  And that that was incredible?  Because Remus had been seen and it was incredible.

All in all, a wonderful day, Remus hums to himself as he skips back towards the back of Thomas’ mind.

“I see your plan went perfectly.”  Deceit spits as Remus passes, glaring.  “Not that it came at the cost of mine.”  He’s clearly annoyed, but he doesn’t seem to think it was intentional.  Otherwise they’d be having an epic show down and Remus isn’t sure he could handle doing that to the only friend he has left.

“Oh it did indeed.”  Remus grins.  “Thomas finally aknowledged me.  In no time at all he’ll realized I’m the better creative half.”

“Of course he will.”  Deceit huffs but he doesn’t say anything else as Remus ducks into his room.

As the door shuts safely behind him, he turns and frowns.  Someone’s sitting on his bed, someone who really shouldn’t be back here.

“Virgil?”  The side in question looks up then quickly looks away again, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hi.”  He greets.

“Should you be back here?  Aren’t you worried you’ll catch darkness?”  Remus wonders.

“I’m not staying.”  Virgil says.

“Well obviously.”  Remus agrees, though he’s admittedly a little relieved.  Of course it was a bit worrying to find Virgil in the back of Thomas’ mind right after he told Thomas the truth.  “Why are you back at all?”

“Well…”  Virgil hesitated a moment before sighing.  “I want to um, say, thanks.  For the warning.”  He manages.

“What warning?”  Remus grins, winking and tapping his nose rather obviously.  Virgil stares for a moment before shaking his head with a smile and a chuckle.  Like he’s fond.  That’s new.  And nice.

“There was uh, there was something else too.”  Virgil says.  “I’m… I’m sorry I thought you were some big villian like, well you know.  You’re easily the best of u-... this.”  He apologizes, stumbling a bit over his words.  But Remus gets it.  He also thinks it’s much more cutesy heart to heart than either of them can really handle.

“I wouldn’t say that.”  He claims, intent to change the topic.

“Yeah?  What would you say?”

“Giant radioactive octopus, except it’s tentacles are knives and also it’s holding knives!”  Remus announces, earning another one of those head shakes.  It’s definitely more amused than annoyed.  

“Of course you would.”  Virgil says, standing.  “Well, that’s all I had to say.  Bye Remus.”  His name, Remus thinks, that’s his name.

“Unless I see you first.  Because I’ll hide.”  Remus grins, hoping Virgil can’t tell how much all this means to him as the newly wanted side lowers down.  

Virgil’s never going back to them, Remus knows that even if Deceit doesn’t.  But maybe, just maybe, they could join him.

[team-free-squiggle]

"Wings" analogical?😸😺

Wings? On my left brain bois? It’s more likely than you think :p 

Thank you so much for the prompt, you darling anon!

~~

Verse: human AU where the bois have wings

Prompt: above

Characters: Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders

Pairings: (teen!)analogical

Warnings: Flying, fear of heights

~~

It was a lovely day, outside. People were flying overhead, loving the feel of the wind in their wings and the sun in their faces. 

Logan sat inside, trembling. The final bell had just rung, meaning everyone was on their way out, to go back home or to their friends. Logan hated going anywhere, because it was so much faster to fly. 

He had always had a fear of heights, which was ironic, because everyone had wings. That’s why everything was built sky-high. He could have potentially walked, if it wasn’t for the fact that his High School was floating in the clouds. Literally. 

The logical 17 year old was fine, most days. He would guide gently down to the ground and walk home, before flying up to his house. 

But today was different. His anxiety, his fear, had worsened today. Logan sighed. He knew he had to at least leave the building, so he grabbed his stuff and walked out the front door. There he froze.

Maybe he froze because of the heights. Yes, a logical reason for him to freeze. Or maybe it was because he saw his crush, Virgil, laughing in the distance with his friends Roman and Patton. Logan wouldn’t be surprised. He had always wanted to appear normal, to see if he had even the slightest chance with Virgil. He wanted to show off how well he could fly, because Logan knew he could fly well. He just hated the heights involved.

Logan stood staring at Virgil for a little bit. The way the golden sunlight caught his brown hair, making it look like red and gold and shimmering purple (although Logan suspected that last color was from the actual purple dye in Virgil’s hair). His warm brown eyes glittered with happiness, an emotion Logan was always glad to see on Virgil’s usually carefully guarded face. Logan blushed.

Should he fly home, like everyone else did? Should he show off for Virgil? Logan imagined what it would be like, for a moment. To be in the air, to fly better than all the rest, to have Virgil’s eyes on only him. He smiled. But then the dream continued, with Logan looking down. He panicked, sending him falling and unable to right himself before hitting the ground. 

So, rather than embarrass himself in front of his crush, Logan took his usual path. His anxiety lessened as he got closer and closer to the ground, glad when he reached the point where a fall wouldn’t kill him. He landed softly, and began walking away. 

Unbeknownst to Logan, Virgil had noticed. Virgil wasn’t really paying attention to Patton and Roman anymore, too focused on the nerd Virgil had a huge crush on. 

Patton caught him staring, and smiled. He elbowed Roman, who stopped talking. Roman smiled too, knowing just how much Virgil cared about Logan. 

“You should go talk to him.” Roman said, Patton agreeing with an enthusiastic shake of the head.

“Yeah! Virge, I’d be surprised if he doesn’t like you too!” Virgil blushed.

“Guys, I don’t even think he’s aware I exist.” Virgil sighed. Roman smirked.

“You clearly haven’t seen him staring at you every day in class then, you emo nightmare.” Virgil gaped at Roman, who giggled. “It’s true!” 

“You best be right about that, Princey, or else I’m taking it out on your hair.” Virgil growled playfully.

Roman gasped, dramatically pressing a hand to his forehead. “Please no! Not the hair! Anything but the hair!” The three teens laughed, before Virgil left and dove towards the ground the way Logan had. 

It didn’t take long for the emo to spot the nerd, seeing as he was the only one walking on the ground. Virgil flew up to Logan shyly, setting himself on the ground and walking next to Logan.

“Hey, Logan.” Virgil tried. No response. So he tapped on Logan’s shoulder. The nerd flinched, before his face turned into one of surprise. He pulled out the earbuds that Virgil hadn’t noticed before.

“Oh, hey, uh, Virgil. What brings you down here?” Virgil blushed, surprised that his crush even knew his name.

“I just, ah,..” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, somewhat embarrassed. “I wanted to talk to you?” Virgil blushed.

Logan blushed too, which Virgil thought made him look cuter than ever. 

“I, um, what about?” Logan kept walking, inviting Virgil to walk with him. Virgil did.

“Oh, um, I have no clue. Look, I’ll just come out and say it.” Virgil sighed. Logan stopped walking, giving Virgil his full attention.

“Logan, you are the prettiest man I have ever seen in my life. I have a huge crush on you, and would like to get to know you better so I might date you, if that is alright with you of course.” Virgil wanted to die now. He wanted to sink right into the ground. His anxiety, his fear of rejection had let him tell Logan this, but now it was back in full force.

Logan was blushing. “You really mean it?” The logical boy asked. Virgil nodded, throat tight as he waited for an answer.

“That, is the best thing I have ever heard.” Logan smiled, a shy but bright smile. Virgil never wanted to stop seeing Logan smiling, now that he had. 

“I, well as you may have guessed, have a crush on you too.” Logan rubbed the back of his neck as he smiled. Virgil blushed, but happily that he wasn’t alone in his anxiety and awkwardness.

“I will say, though, I don’t nearly know enough about you. I would like to know more. Can we, can I take you somewhere we can hang out, without anyone else seeing us?” Logan asked, still adorably shy. Virgil’s wings curled in excitement.

“Sure, but I have to call my dads to let them know I’m hanging out with a friend for a bit. That a problem?” Virgil asked. Logan smiled.

“Not at all, I have to call my moms for the same reason.” The took out their cell phones, made the calls, and got permission from both parties.

“You good?” Virgil asked once Logan had put his phone away. 

“Yeah, you?” Virgil nodded, making Logan grab Virgil’s hand and run. Virgil lifted himself up in the air, used more to flying than running. 

Logan led Virgil through a thick bit of forest nearby, running/flying over to a beach. The blue water - the ocean - spread as far as the eyes can see, making both boys smile. 

Logan dropped Virgil’s hand, and his schoolbag. Virgil touched back down to the ground, dropping his own bag next to Logan’s. 

“This is one of my favorite places, mainly because most people never find it with the forest overhead.” Logan explained.

“Yeah, I’ve never been here. It’s beautiful here, especially from the ground level.” Virgil smiled.

Logan nodded, before his smile faltered. “I assume you’re wondering why I spend so much time on the ground, instead of with my head in the clouds? Literally?”

Virgil snorted, before he became serious. “I am curious, I’m not gonna lie. But I also respect your boundaries. I know you have wings - I can see them - and I know you can fly because you get to school. So why ever you don’t fly that often, is none of my business.” 

Logan smiled. No one besides his family had ever treated him with such kindness, such normalcy before. Logan decided he wanted to tell Virgil why this is one of his favorite spots. 

“I choose not to fly. Or, rather, my anxiety chooses for me.” Logan laughed without humor.

“You don’t have to tell me, Logan, if-” Virgil was cut off from the logical teen himself.

“I want to, Virge. I, ironically, am afraid of heights. To a very large degree. But, also ironically, I love flying. That’s why this is one of my favorite spots to come to. Flying over water lessens my anxiety. I don’t know why, but it does. So it’s a great place for me to be myself, without my anxiety hindering me.” Logan explained.

“It’s kinda logical when you say it that way. Like, the water isn’t as likely to hurt you as land, so maybe that’s why your fear is lessened.” Virgil suggested. Logan smiled, glad that Virgil was taking this so well. 

Then Virgil moved, grabbing Logan’s hands and holding them gently, but firmly. “But, seriously, thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me.”  Logan smiled.

“My pleasure, Virgil. Now. Care to join me?” Logan smirked. He twisted his hands free from Virgil’s grasp, running to the water and straight up leaping into the air.

Logan’s dark blue angel wings spread out effortlessly, sending him up into the air. Even from so far below, Virgil could still hear the bell-like peals of laughter coming from his logical crush. 

Virgil’s own purple angel wings spread, launching him into the air as well. Virgil smiled, knowing that he would never have guessed that Logan has a fear of heights if he hadn’t told Virgil. 

Everything just came so naturally to Logan, especially with his flying. And as he and Virgil soared over the sea together, they were just happy.

And when Virgil and Logan held hands and kissed, all soft and sweet and shy as could be? Still flying over the bright blue sea?

Well, that’s when the two teens were the happiest they felt they could ever, ever be.

~~

Taglist below cut

(Sanders Sides)

@astraastro

@madly-handsome

@amber1594

@lie-lie-birdy

@thebaagelboy

@justanotherpurplebutterfly

@ravenclawunicorn1

@ako1209

@princessbelix

@water13girl

@romanasanders

@deathshadowrules

@virgils-jacket

@fandomsofrandom

@cochroachkappa-blog

@zoeyheys

@chipminkle

@6tick6tock6

@maizieandbirds

@panic-at-theeverywhere

@not-my-patton

@cookieturtleart123

@confinesofpersonalknowledge

@generalfandomfabulousness

@thegirlofwolvesandfangs

@toujours-fidele

@light-it-on-fire

@ghostmaster83

@bubblycricket

@theresneverenoughfandoms

(All)

@birdybabybird

@awesomelissawho

@funsizedgremlin

@surviving-an-ocean-of-fandoms

@teacupfulofstarshine

@bitchwannatryme

[fromtheringapron]

Reviewing Google Audience Reviews of WWE Raw

One day, I searched Monday Night Raw on Google for reasons even unbeknownst to me. What is it out of boredom? A sliver of hope that I’d discover Raw had been canceled and replaced with a rebooted Prime Time Wrestling? I don’t know, but I did stumble upon some treasure in my aimless journey: Google Audience Reviews of Raw! This is apparently a new feature to Google. It allows people like you and I to give our baseless, uninformed opinions on any TV show at any time. Isn’t the Internet great?

But, man, if that wasn’t good enough, the real treasure are the reviews themselves. Such an intriguing look into the jaded, ignorant, infuriating, hilarious, and naive group of folks who make up WWE’s fanbase. The thing about the Internet, for better or worse, is that it gives a platform for all sorts of people to voice their opinion, even on a silly wrestling show. However, I’d like to think that also means it gives me the platform to give my opinion on their opinion. There are countless Raw reviews in this new section of Google, but here are a few that have really caught my eye:

Review #27: The AEW Truther

Okay, I’ll start out by sussing out some bullshit: All Elite Wrestling has a lot of promise, but we need to stop with the narrative that they’re going to be breathing down the WWE’s neck right out of the gate. They haven’t even put on their first show and don’t have a TV deal. In addition, outside of the diehard Internet fans and wrestling journalists, the casual fan who tunes into Raw isn’t going to give a fuck about AEW, mainly because they haven’t heard of it. So, no, “us Pro Wrestling fans” aren’t just going to turn to that. Again, it’s got potential and the excitement over it is valid, but I can’t help but feel the ones hyping it up the most will be the first to voice their disappointment when it doesn’t match even a fraction of what they expected.

With all of that said, I absolutely agree with this fan on the egregiousness of WWE putting an actual fascist dickhead and a convicted rapist into their Hall of Fame, especially when there’s inexplicably more rage geared toward the likes of Koko B. Ware and Torrie Wilson getting inducted, two people who were company employees for several years. I’m usually never the one to be up in arms over who gets inducted in the Hall of Fame because it’s a fake hall for a fake sport at the end of the day, but I do earnestly believe the focus should be on the workers who clocked in the hours.

Review #352: The Benoit Truther

Look, even though many will disagree, it’s okay for you to think Daniel Bryan sucks. Everyone has their own unique set of faves and least faves, and yours is no less valid than anyone else’s. Consensus in the fan community is boring, anyway.

Well, within reason anyway, because I’d like to think that the probability of Chris Benoit rotting in Hell right now is something we can all agree on. And, honestly, still listing Benoit as the greatest of all time feels wrong on a deep, moral level. The dude did some great things in his career, yes, but that’s besides the point. That doesn’t cancel out that he murdered his wife and son. Is defending the name of someone who will always be associated with a slaughtered family a hill you really want to fight on?

I don’t want to make it seem a comment like this is totally uncommon. It’s not much different from the various Youtube comments that linger on to this day about how Benoit should be inducted into the Hall of Fame. It still infuriates me though, largely because it feeds into the cesspool of Benoit apologia that’s only swelled since that fateful weekend in 2007. It’s the kind of language that words Benoit as ultimately a tragic figure whose poor brain was so damaged that his crimes were practically unavoidable, an explanation that wouldn’t be afforded to him if he weren’t so widely regarded by smarky wrestling bros. And that’s a bunch of shit.

The first half of the review isn’t so bad, which is why I didn’t include it. Maybe this fan just isn’t aware of what they’re saying, and I get that, but intentions can only go so far with me. The scariest part though? 78 people found the review helpful. The most of any review I’ve seen so far.  Fuckin’ balls.

Review #658: The Anti-Bullying Crusader

Okay, so I kinda love this. It’s such a nice reminder in a time where kayfabe is long dead and the WWE roster, regardless of heel/face alignment, will post pics with each other out in the town on social media that there are still fans who eat all of this shit up. I obviously know nothing about this person, but the review conjures up the image of an ornery senior citizen sitting ringside ready to whack those dastardly heels with a cane.

The bullying argument is hilarious. We all know WWE’s anti-bullying campaign Be A Star is hypocritical, disingenuous bullshit, largely birthed out of Linda McMahon’s failed run in politics. Like, how many of their storylines involve and normalize bullying? How many times have guys like The Rock and John Cena engaged in homophobic and misogynistic taunting on-screen over the years? There’s nothing wrong with informing your younger viewers on why bullying in real life is wrong, but you can’t deny the WWE has certainly trivialized the message. 

And it’s even more ridiculous when someone stops watching because of all the fake, scripted bullying on the show. Honestly, my friend, what are you expecting out of a wrestling product then? Bobby Roode vs. Heath Slater in a Handshake Contest? Also, this fan has been watching since they were five years old, no doubt remembering a more innocent time where Steve Austin would give the Stunner to someone who completely didn’t deserve that. 

I also love the last line. After bashing Raw for its bully-enabling platform, they at least concede that the ladies are killing it right now. Such an encouraging feminist stance!

Review #229: Everyone Had Fun and Nobody Got Hurt

Um, what? I do get what this fan is saying in the sense that, yes, wrestling is just play fighting, but “their policy of no violence”? Do I need to bring up that Roode/Slater handshake battle for the ages? And the wrestlers may sell fake injuries on TV all the time, but they can sustain injuries that are real as hell and carry some severe long-term repercussions. I feel like I’m being way too harsh, but come on now. If you’ve been watching since 1999, you’ve probably seen plenty of guys take unnecessary, dangerous bumps that shorten their careers. Watching even a small bit of Mick Foley’s work can probably tell you that.

With that said, I do love the refreshing stance in loving wrestling because it’s scripted. People usually hate on wrestling for that reason alone, largely because the business has historically gone to great lengths to make it seem real. It’s great to have someone who basically says, “You know, this is scripted bullshit and I’m okay with it.” And honestly, girl, I feel the same way. We need more people like us.

Review #44: Garden Variety Lapsed Fan #15,712

This certainly is a take. I can’t comment on what it’s like in other fandoms, but so many wrestling fans love to engage in the narrative that WWE stopped being good a long while ago and the current product is the worst it’s ever been but because they’re such a diehard fans they’ll stick around until it gets good again and willingly suffer through all of it due to the innate goodness in their hearts or some shit. The only difference in each of these arguments is that the date of the tipping point always changes. There are fans right now who’ll tell you WWE circa 2019 is the worst it’s ever been, but this was also true back when I first started traversing the Internet back in 2004 or 2005 and fans then were talking how that period was the worst it had ever been.

With that in mind, I find this review a bit refreshing in the face of Attitude Era truthers, who’ll repeatedly tell you wrestling, and seemingly all of pop culture, stopped being good sometime in the early 2000s. But as we near closer and closer to 20 years since that era ended, the more likely we are to see younger fans who have no real nostalgia for it. It won’t be long until we hear more and more talk about the salad days of Roman Reigns, Braun Strowman, and others. This fan says WWE stopped being good in late 2016/early 2017, which obviously wasn’t that long ago. I’m sure some fan daydreaming about the days of the Monday Night Wars would find this completely baffling.

It begs the question: when exactly was the WWE good? Has it ever been good? I don’t think any one answer is the sole correct one. None of these perspectives are invalid by any means. Every era of wrestling has had its pros and cons, and everyone has their own set of standards on what they consider a quality wrestling product. And, to be real, I don’t want to excuse the WWE of their shitty, at times irredeemable, booking and creative decisions. Fans have been driven away for numerous, valid reasons over the years.

But there’s that whole notion that nothing can ever bring back those early feelings of puppy love, and that’s just as true with the way wrestling first captivates you. Perhaps the constant frustration with present day WWE is partly the inability to rekindle what first hooked you in and never being able to recapture that feeling because, well, it’s simply not possible.

Review #788: Our Savior

We are not worthy of this review. A true diamond in the rough. So many good bits here. The prediction that Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose will compete in a “no holes barred” match, which sounds like something out of a Sean Cody wrestling parody. The invention of the “Tang Tang Championship” featuring the likes of “Pop Scott Dulson and his tag team partner." The referring of Baron Corbin as not only “Barry Korgan,” but also as “Brian Corbin.” The passage that merely says “All winding.” The passage that merely says “Bobby Lashley.” That it’s not even a review of Raw, the TV show, but more a comment on the existential nihilism we feel in the Trump era.

I’ve never seen a review that makes no sense but also says so much. I love the complete refusal of punctuation marks. Who needs those archaic things, anyway? It just makes it all one, continuous thought, a stream of consciousness that could make even James Joyce blush. I also dig the experimentation with spacing. After all, why do we need to just one space? Why not several? It’s important to give our thoughts the space they need and this fan understands that. Plus, it makes for poetic reading.

The review ends on an ominous note, with the fan’s last message being “My name Matthewhisee.” Is this meant to be a threat? A coded message of some sort? Matthewhisee, if that is your name, please let us know more. The world needs your insight. Oh, and to the 7 people who found this review helpful, you are the vanguards of the resistance. Bless you all.

[lacrimosathedark]

I have a “call out post” for hellosandersfanders, since they’ve been so goddamn “kind” going around and “correcting” people~  I actually have them blocked so honestly it’s more of a vent and an informational post for people who are yet to block them. I’m also not tagging anyone so as to not bother them, but I use their full usernames you’ll still know what I’m talking about.

If you want a TL;DR, I essentially repeat this multiple times: PEOPLE ARE ALLOWED TO ENJOY THINGS. LET OTHERS ENJOY THINGS. YOU DON’T HAVE TO LIKE IT BUT DON’T BE A DICK ABOUT IT.

I’ll start off with the preface that most of their “call-outs” aren’t tagged appropriately. Specifically, they tag thomas sanders as well as the original basic ships. So these could just pop up when you’re looking for some Patton and Logan snuggles or some Roman and Virgil banter or anything else. Which is really fucking shitty, especially when they gripe about people tagging incorrectly. You’ll see.

In their bio and later in a post they talk about how they are saying what everyone else is too scared to say and denying that they’re a hate blog. Actually, this is their bio: “THIS IS NOT A HATE BLOG. This is a blog that calls out blogs and people that need to be called out. I'm taking it upon myself to make sure that everyone's blog experience is trouble free by setting bloggers straight.” But when you go after people, not even critiquing but full on criticizing and attacking them, that’s not a call-out, that’s hate. And here’s another thing. You can be the smartest dick in the room, but if you’re still a dick no one wants to listen to you. 

Their first post is “Call out posts to fanders who draw fusions that include Deceit: that counts as a Deceit ship and it won’t hurt you to tag it as such. Stop being disrespectful and tag your stuff appropriately.”  Saying a fusion counts as a ship isn’t necessarily the case, for one. And then says it’s disrespectful to not tag them as a Deceit ship. I know a lot of the time reblogs don’t get appropriately tagged, but if you go back to the original work, all of them are tagged for Deceit in some way, and often have said fusion in the tags (Loceit, Moceit, Princeit, Anxceit). I have never seen a fusion where the original artist didn’t tag the fusion components. And it’s well known that some people don’t like Deceit or are triggered by him in some way, so most fanders make an active effort to tag him. So that’s bullshit point one.

The next rude post they criticized cattonsanders for not tagging food and eating warnings for their compilation of the Sanders Sides characters not eating properly. But here’s the thing, while it wasn’t tagged, they said right in the post what it was, and the first frames are literally a title card saying “nobody in sanders sides knows how to eat”. And they didn’t say “hey, can you try to tag food and eating in the future?”, they said “ this is cute but you should’ve put a tag warning for food and/or eating. next time be mindful of other people.” like they have the right to scold and demand. 

Next was them commenting on people commenting on a gif: “is it really necessary to add your comments on gifsets? why couldn’t you add it on the tags?” Why shouldn’t people talk in reblogs? You aren’t obligated to be part of the conversation or say anything, you can even go back to the original post without commentary and people enjoying themselves and reblog the original post. What is so goddamn tedious about seeing people talking and having fun over content they mutually enjoy? Fuck off with your fun-sucking bullshit.

They have made a handful of comments on randomslasher/LJ’s posts as well as a call-out so I’ll summarize: They think “LJ is everywhere” is and overdone joke and finds it “grating” that people still enjoy it, they think LJ is a hypocrite for understanding people don’t like Deceit while also sharing Deceit content, they say LJ doesn’t stand for anything and is a people-pleaser, and they said people shouldn’t “worship” them because they don’t stand for anything. So, to hit all of those points, as follows; You aren’t required to like a joke but as long as it doesn’t harm anyone just let people enjoy things. You don’t have to like something for it to be good. Next, people are allowed to like Deceit. The same way people can like Moriarty or the Joker or Deadpool or any character of poor or ambiguous morality. You can like a character that’s not a great person. Being aware that he upsets people just means you tag the content appropriately, not that you have to stop liking or sharing it because it makes other people uncomfortable. LJ isn’t a hypocrite for still sharing Deceit content if they like Deceit so long as they tag appropriately, jegus fuck. And I don’t know much about LJ, but do they really have to “stand for something”? It’s their blog, not yours, and it’s for fun, it doesn’t have to have a deeper purpose. And people don’t worship LJ, but they are admired for their content and personality. But they, and many other bigger blogs in this fandom, are constantly reminding their followers that they too are just people and just Fanders. It’s not fair to dislike them just for being well-liked. That’s just petty. They then whined when LJ blocked them, essentially calling them a coward. But I’ve seen LJ discuss things with people of less than like minds, and they aren’t perfect but they’re pretty respectful. They blocked you because you’re a whiny bitch, not because you disagree with them.

Next they went after princelogical. They said Marin is just imitating Logan in how he “speaks” and it’s “annoying and fake”. That rubs me the wrong way because I have been told I type like Logan talks at times, but y’know what? I’ve been told before ever hearing the name Thomas Sanders that my writing seems cold and distant and intelligent and precise. That is how I learned to write and express myself. It’s possible, even likely, that Marin is similar, that he is similar to Logan in that way and were prior to Logan existing. And people who mimic or pretend to be the characters that they criticize, so fucking what? People aren’t allowed to explore the characters or themselves, or practice writing or getting into character like that? They also say: “He’s also very in your face about being christian, which is very offensive to people of other religion like myself.” News flash, buddy, they say right in their bio that they’re Christian. Don’t like it, don’t follow him. And here’s a thing, I hate organized religion with a burning passion. But his religiousness never does more than poke at a nerve. And he uses it as a way to spread positivity instead of hate like a lot of Christians do nowadays. And hey, that someone is personally another religion and shares it on their personal blog is not an offense to someone of a different religion, be fucking mature.

They next attacked organizeddiscord, and I don’t really know Sam so I’m gonna argue more with their points, if I make a wrong assumption about her I apologise. For context, I don’t know if she does this so imma put the first part of their comment for you to judge rather than piece it apart: “Does nothing but complain about her content not being reblogged then constantly makes posts that guilt trip people into reblogging her content, starts unnecessary drama,  and  acts mean and horrible towards Deceit fans. I don’t like Deceit too but I never act the way she does.” After that they go on to say how she is “forcing” the Virgil/Thomas ship on the fandom and how it’s disrespectful to Thomas. Look, I hate that ship too, it weirds me out, but no one is forced to read any of what she posts about it (blocked tags and tumblr savior exist for a reason) and anyone is allowed to create anything they want, that’s not forcing it on anyone. And I don’t see how it’s disrespectful to Thomas. Sanders Sides Thomas is a characters, Shorts Thomas is a character, they aren’t real. Thomas knows abut ships, he has said he thinks they’re cute. He makes jokes about the concept of sleep essentially being his wild boyfriend, and there was a joke about him sharing his bed with his anxiety, which is essentially Shorts verse version of Virgil. And guess what? You don’t have to like it for her to be able to enjoy it. She’s allowed to enjoy it. They later said she was plagiarizing when she took a text post that has been circling around, and also sourced it, and made it a Sanders Sides essentially fake quote. And they demanded she take it down. Buddy...that’s not how things work. It’s not plagiarism if you say it’s not yours. And she did the right thing in sourcing it too. But this happens all the time, are you going to attack every “fake quotes” thing ever, even just in this fandom? Because honey even you don’t have the time for that.

They then go after theonlyjelly-iwillput-inmybelly and boy did I feel like a cat with their hairs on end when I saw them be a dick to Cole. They don’t like Cole’s shitposty humor. It’s not for everyone but a lot of people think he’s funny. And some of his crazy shenanigans come from medications or even from just being bilingual and keeping words right. The “childish talk” I find funny, and it’s not like it’s baby talk, and it can also be rather insightful. Plus even if you think he sounds stupid, here’s the thing: most people sound smarter in their native language. Cole isn’t from an English-speaking country. He is allowed to not use every word like it came out of your goddamn English textbook or some stupid novel or whatever. And the bear thing is because his username and icon are a reference to Crofter’s whose mascot is a bear. If you aren’t gonna bitch at Thomas for making so many Crofter’s jokes, then leave Cole the fuck alone for it.

They then made a call-out for what-even-is-thiss and...sadly I agree with them on this one, though I hate how rudely they worded it, so I’m just gonna copy what they said. ““Roman” if that’s even his real name, has no regards to other people’s feelings and just says whatever the hell enters that brain of his. He is so bad that other blogs have called him out. And yet he acts as if nothing has happened. No remorse or anything.” I will say one thing though; Roman, to my recollection, is a trans guy and chose his name. He’s allowed to choose any name he fucking wants. And even if that’s not his real name? It’s the fucking internet didn’t you guardian teach you not to give out personal information on the internet?

They then called out anxietys-room for not being helpful and for passing it off to followers to give advice. Here’s the thing; they aren’t professionals. They are normal people who want to help people struggling and can only do so much. And I’ve seen a number of times them pushing help lines for people who desperately need that. How shitty do you have to be to attack something so well-intentioned?

They then yelled at insanelycoolish for not putting their story under a “Keep Reading”, which they used later for their taglist. It’s a fair thing to say, long posts you don’t care to read are obnoxious. However, they didn’t ask if Finn could fix it or do something else next time. They said this: “would it kill you both to add all of these under a read more?” “you both” presumably is referring to the-pastel-peach, whom Finn was conversing with because she enjoyed his fic. But she can’t do anything, it’s not her post. Ugh I’m so sick of this dude...

This is all that’s on their account for now, but let’s circle back to their bio. No one needs to be called out for having a different sense of humor than you or liking things you don’t like. You aren’t making the fandom trouble-free, you’re causing trouble and pain and anger by attacking our friends. Maybe that’s your real intent. But either way, you have made yourself our enemy.

You have no right to consider yourself a Fander, so I hope you don’t. Thomas preaches caring and acceptance, and asking nicely for things you need. He would be ashamed of you.