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#sanders sides writing
prodigal-explorer · 1 month
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to celebrate together - a sanders sides fanfiction
this is a cute fluffy fic (for the most part) about human versions of the sides discussing easter, ramadan, and passover, three very prominent holidays from three different religions during the springtime!
(cws -> brief mention of anti-semetism, brief mention of anti-semetic hate crimes, honestly there are brief moments of insensitivity towards all three religions mentioned (christianity/catholicism, islam, and jewish) but they are genuine moments of confusion and not in bad faith! this fic is about learning and growing and respecting other religions, so there is a bit of a learning curve.)
word count: 2.9k
(also, i know i usually write a lot of unsympathetic patton which may deter some people. it will comfort these people to know that patton is not unsympathetic in this fic! he's actually a cool guy! so don't worry about that.)
Everyone in the house knew that Easter was one of Patton’s favorite holidays by now. They had only been living together for a few months, but it was obvious from the new way Patton carried himself in the springtime. He bought a lot of Easter-themed furniture, so by the time March 1st rolled around, the house was covered head to toe in eggs, bunnies, baskets, chicks, and crosses. Lots of crosses. 
“Why are there a bunch of plus signs everywhere?” Roman had dared to ask one day, “Logan, is this one of your math projects?” 
“You seriously don’t know what a cross is?” Patton asked, his eyes wide with shock, “Oh, that’s right. You’re balsamic.” 
“Uh…Islamic,” Roman corrected awkwardly, “Me and Remus just say we’re Muslim. And I know what a cross is, I just didn’t know that it was one of those. They really do look like plus signs with a big tail. What are they all for?” 
“Well, they’re Easter decorations!” Patton explained readily, “Since Easter is the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus, we have crosses here to commemorate all he sacrificed for his people.” 
“Wow,” Roman said, a smile forming on his face, “I guess Jesus must have been pretty brave.” 
“He’s not just brave, Roman,” Patton said, “He died for us. The least we can do is celebrate him.” 
“Yeah, that seems fair,” Roman said, still gazing around the colorful, decked out area with a gentle, somewhat cautious curiosity that was generally unlike him. He seemed to sense that this was sensitive territory. “So…why do you guys celebrate Easter the way you do? With the bunnies and the eggs? Did Jesus really like sunny side up or something? Did he have a pet bunny?” 
“Come on,” Patton said, “I want to tell everyone about this!” 
Roman grinned and followed Patton into the living room, where the others were sitting and chatting. Logan was on the recliner, working on a grocery list, while Janus and Remus were on the ground, playing Go-Fish. Virgil was spread across the couch, scrolling through his phone. 
“Guys, Patton’s gonna teach us about Easter!” Roman said, “Like, why they use the eggs and stuff.” 
“It’s because of Jesus,” Logan droned tiredly, staring up at Patton, “Is this really necessary?” 
“Of course it’s necessary, Logan!” Patton chastised, “It’s the most important event of springtime!” 
Virgil tilted his head. “But what about Passover?” 
“Pass-what?” Patton said, clearly confused, “No, we’re talking about Easter. What’s passover?” 
“I like Layat Al-Qadr best,” Remus shrugged, “It’s the only night of the year where I can get Roman to shut up.” 
“Hey!” Roman protested, “Oh, I have an idea! We’ll have a contest. Each of us will talk about what we think is the most important event of springtime, and then we’ll hold a vote!” 
“I suppose we can do that,” Janus said, “Logan and I don’t celebrate any of these things, so we will be neutral voters. We don’t have any emotional attachment to any of the options.” 
“Perfect!” Patton said, “And we’ll start with Easter, because Easter is-”
“Fat chance,” Virgil said, “Everyone already knows everything about Easter. It’s the only holiday that Americans give a shit about. It’s all over the supermarkets, it gets all the attention and respect. You don’t even know what Passover is, and do you even know that Ramadan exists?” 
“Of course I know what ramen is, I had some for dinner last night,” Patton said. 
The room was silent for a second. 
“Virgil has a point,” Logan said, but when Patton pouted, Logan continued, “But we can still hear Patton out. He may say something we don’t know about yet. Besides, if we’re going to keep this vote objective, we need to hear out every option with equal respect and attention. Can we do that?” 
“Yeah, sorry, Pat,” Virgil said softly.
“Sure,” Remus said, “Tell us about how Jesus got nailed on a cross.” 
“Why would I tell you about that if you already know that part?” Patton asked with a disgusted expression. 
“Cuz it’s the coolest part,” Remus replied with a toothy grin. 
“Well…you’re not entirely wrong,” Patton said, growing excited as he started again to speak, “Easter is the holiday that celebrates the resurrection of Jesus! It’s celebrated every springtime, after the first full moon of spring. Jesus was arrested by Jewish leaders, and he was sentenced to death on the cross for trying to lead his people.” 
“Interesting,” Janus mumbled, narrowing his eyes a bit, “Jewish leaders. That was an interesting detail to mention. Why does that matter to you, Pat?” 
“Anyway,” Patton said icily before continuing the story, “A man named Joseph asked these leaders to take Jesus down from the cross after he died, in order to bury him properly. They allowed it, and Joseph buried Jesus in a stone tomb. But three days later, when people came to put spices on Jesus’ body, they found that he was gone!” 
“So Jesus wasn’t actually dead??” Roman asked, clearly shocked by that twist in the story. 
“Well, of course he’s not dead,” Patton said, “That’s the entire point of Easter, buddy! Jesus was resurrected. Easter is a holiday that represents rebirth. There’s always hope, and Jesus will always be there for us. Even during the darkest times, and even in the face of death.” 
“Jesus is badass,” Remus remarked, “But that still doesn’t explain why there are eggs, though.” 
“Oh! Another part of Easter is something called Lent,” Patton said, “In the 40 days leading up to Easter Sunday, Christians and Catholics celebrate Lent, which is a time of prayer and resisting temptation from sin. People sometimes give up things that they consider to be sinful during Lent. It’s a mindful thing. Right now, I’m giving up alcohol. And back in the medieval times, eggs weren’t allowed during Lent, so on Easter Sunday, eggs were used to signify that Lent has passed on by. Also, eggs…they represent rebirth in a way.” 
“Don’t they just represent birth?” Logan asked. 
“Well, I guess, but…come on, Logan! You like the egg salad I make every easter!”
“Your egg salad is quite good.” 
“That’s what I thought.” 
“Easter is pretty cool,” Virgil said, “That’s really cool, actually.” 
“So you think it’s better than your day?” Patton asked hopefully. 
Virgil laughed. “Good one. Easter sounds awesome and all, but nothing beats Passover.” 
“What’s that one?” Roman asked eagerly, “Why’s it called Passover? Do you play basketball or something?” 
“Okay, where the heck did basketball come from?” Janus asked. 
“I mean…you pass over the ball. In basketball,” Roman replied. 
“No basketball,” Virgil chuckled, “It’s actually called Passover for a bit of a complicated reason. I’ll start from the beginning. This story starts in Egypt. The pharaoh, who is basically the leader of Egypt, didn’t like Jewish people, and he didn’t want too many Jewish people living in Egypt. So he enslaved all the Jews who currently lived there, and ordered that all Jewish babies who are birthed in Egypt get killed.” 
Roman’s eyes widened, and he started to feel a bit sick. 
“But why?” he demanded, “The Jewish babies didn’t even do anything!” 
“You’d be surprised what people do to people who are different,” Virgil replied in a mutter, “Anyway, one Jewish woman decided that she wouldn’t let her baby die. She hid her baby in a basket and put him into the river, to float away to somewhere safer. The pharaoh's daughter found the baby, and decided to take him in. His name was Moses.” 
“Oh! Moses!” Roman cried out in recognition, “Like the movie, like the movie The Prince Of Egypt!” 
Virgil smiled slightly and nodded. 
“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah, like that movie. That’s a good movie if you guys want to learn more about Moses.” 
“And listen to some amazing songs by Stephen Schwartz!” Roman added. 
“Roman, let’s let Virgil finish, okay?” Logan said, and Roman reluctantly nodded, turning his attention back to Virgil. 
“Anyway, Moses grew up, and found out that he was Jewish, and he came from a Jewish family. He saw how horribly his people were being treated, and when he killed a slave master, he ran away to the desert,” Virgil continued, “There, he found a burning bush, and the bush talked to him. The bush basically said that he was God, and he was going to help Moses set the Jewish people free. But when Moses came back and told the pharaoh this, the pharaoh refused, over and over. And every time the pharaoh refused, God sent down a different plague, or curse, to Egypt.” 
“But that’s not fair,” Patton protested, “The rest of the people didn’t even do anything.” 
“Well, I don’t disagree,” Virgil said, “But God wasn’t feeling very forgiving after having his people enslaved for years. He knew that there was no other way to convince the pharaoh.” 
“Yeah, if you’re gonna get mad at anyone, get mad at the pharaoh,” Janus said, “He was the stubborn son of a bitch who wouldn’t set free the slaves. He put his people in danger by doing that just because he wanted more free labor.” 
“There were a lot of plagues because the pharaoh kept saying no,” Virgil explained, “And the tenth plague was a curse called the angel of death, a curse that would kill the first-born child of every home. In order to protect the innocent families, God told Moses to tell anyone who would listen to paint over their door with lamb’s blood. If the door was painted over, then the curse would pass over them, and nobody would die. Passover, see?” 
Roman nodded, his eyes widening as he was enraptured in the story. “Passover,” he repeated. 
“The Israelites listened to Moses, but a lot of others in Egypt didn’t, including the Pharaoh,” Virgil said, a bit sadly, “It sucked. They all had to learn the hard way. If they had just listened to Moses, nobody would have died. If the pharaoh had just let the Israelites go the first time, then none of the plagues would have had to happen. But stricken with grief after his firstborn son died, the pharaoh finally let the Israelites go, and they were freed from slavery.” 
“So that’s the story of Passover,” Logan said, “How is it celebrated?” 
“Well, it’s celebrated for eight days,” Virgil explained, “Seven if you’re in Israel. But here in America, it’s eight. On the first night of Passover, Jewish families have a Passover seder, which is a big dinner where we pray and sing, and we tell stories from a book called the Haggadah. All families celebrate a little differently, but for the most part, we do that stuff. I remember when I was little, my mom would always give me a sip of her wine.”
“Damn, just a sip?” Remus asked with a little laugh, “Shoulda given you a whole cup. Imagine a drunk little Virgil stumbling around.” 
“That would have been cool,” Virgil admitted, “Me and my cousins would drink grape juice and pretend to be drunk. After all the serious stuff was over, of course. A big part of Passover is discussing current events. Unfortunately, most places in the world aren’t very Jew-friendly. Even here in America, there are a lot of hate crimes. Actually…” 
Roman noticed with horror that Virgil was getting teary-eyed. 
“Virgil?” Logan asked quietly, “What’s wrong?” 
“I’m sorry,” Virgil said, trying to wipe away his tears before they fell, “This is hard to talk about. The synagogue that my family went to when I was a kid before I moved here, it- a few years ago- it- it got burnt down.” 
“Burnt down,” Janus realized, “As in…someone did it. On purpose.” 
Virgil nodded, his eyes completely downcast. He was crying, but his face was hardened, almost angry. But not quite. He seemed too sad to be angry. 
“All the drawings the kids made. All the food that people donated. All the copies of the Torah,” he whispered, “It was all gone in one night. My parents still can’t talk about it without crying. I guess I can’t either.” 
“I’ve never heard of anyone burning down a religious building like that,” Patton said softly, “That’s horrible.” 
“Yeah? That’s cuz they don’t burn down your stuff,” Janus said quietly, putting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, Virgil. You…don’t deserve that. Nobody deserves that. No matter what.” 
“Don’t let me stop you from continuing the competition,” Virgil said, “Remus, I wanna hear about yours. What is this one day that can get Roman to shut up?” 
“Do we really have to bring that joke back?” Roman asked, too amused to be sore. 
“Well, the night I was talking about, Layat Al-Qadr, is just one night of Ramadan,” Remus started to explain, “Ramadan’s actually about a month long.” 
“A whole month?” Logan asked, “Wow. That’s a lot longer than Easter and Passover.” 
“Not if you count Lent,” Patton pointed out. 
“Layat Al-Qadr is the 27th day of Ramadan,” Roman continued, “And you pray the whole entire night, pretty much. We ask Allah to forgive us for the mistakes we made, and we hope that he says yes.” 
“How do you know if he says yes?” Logan asked, tilting his head slightly. 
Roman shrugged. “You don’t. That’s why you have to believe.” 
“That sounds kinda boring, praying for the whole night,” Janus admitted, “Is that seriously the only thing you do?” 
“I was worried it would be boring too,” Roman admitted, “But it’s actually really cool. You’d be surprised how therapeutic it is. It feels nice, talking to someone who you know will always listen. Reflecting on all the stuff you did, and figuring out how to do better without worrying about anyone getting mad at you or hating you.” 
“And we also have iftar,” Remus said, “It’s like a giant meal, and we get to spend time with family while breaking our fast.” 
“Wait, wait- you fast?” Virgil asked, “For an entire month?” 
“It’s not so bad,” Remus shrugged, “Especially because we have iftar, and we usually eat a little bit in the morning. Breaking the fast together as a family during iftar is cool, because, like, everybody’s breaking it at the same time. So it’s like- we all are hungry together, and then we all become satisfied together. It’s pretty cool.” 
“We also have five prayers that we say every day,” Roman added, “Along with an extra one at night. The prayers are the really important part because it’s so traditional. It’s been done for so many years before us, it’s like…passing down a torch. We don’t want to forget about it. So we do it to honor the people before us, so that hopefully, the people after us have something in common with us when they celebrate Ramadan.” 
“Well, when you explain it like that, it sounds really cool,” Virgil admitted. 
“I used to think prayer was weird, and kinda culty,” Janus mumbled, clearly a bit ashamed, “But…it actually sounds awesome. Mindful, you know?” 
“Wait, where does Ramadan come from anyway?” Patton asked, “Like the fasting and the praying. Who started it?” 
“It was started by the Prophet Muhammad,” Roman said eagerly, “He’s this really cool guy who told us what Allah wanted for the Muslim people. And Ramadan is the month on the Muslim calendar where Muhammad found the Quran, which is our holy book. It’s sort of like Patton’s bible and Virgil’s Torah.” 
“Oh, gotcha,” Patton said. 
“To be more specific, it’s the ninth month of our calendar,” Remus said, “But also, it depends on the moon. It’s like a thing. To try and spot the Ramadan moon. Roman and I did it a few times when we were younger.” 
“It’s hard to do it now,” Roman said, “There’s so much artificial light in this city. But once it’s high enough in the sky, we can see it great. It’s so cool, feeling like you discovered something.” 
“And we fast because Muhammad told us to, basically,” Remus said, “It’s one of the five pillars of Islam, fasting during Ramadan. And like Roman said, the Muslim people have done it for thousands and thousands of years. So it feels really awesome to continue it today. Even if it leaves us a little hungry and cranky sometimes.” 
“You guys should come to iftar sometime,” Roman said, “A bunch of our Muslim friends and us all come together and eat and talk and laugh, and just enjoy each other’s company.” 
“It sounds amazing,” Virgil said, “Kinda like Passover seder.” 
Remus nudged Virgil gently, smiling over at him. 
“Hey, yeah!” he said. 
“And Easter Sunday!” Patton piped up. 
“Maybe all our events have more in common than we think,” Roman said, “I mean, all of them have cool stories, and big dinners, and just…that festive attitude. That feeling of carrying on a tradition that’s so much bigger than yourself.” 
“Do we even need a vote, then?” Logan asked, “I don’t know what to vote for. All of those events sound lovely.” 
“I agree,” Janus said, “Maybe we can vote on something else. Like what movie to watch tonight?” 
“I vote The Prince Of Egypt!” Roman cried out, “Virgil made me think about it, and now all the songs are in my head!” 
“Oh! I’ll make some egg salad for dinner!” Patton said, “It’s the 21st century, we’re allowed to eat eggs during Lent now!” 
“Maybe I’ll bring in the leftover date cookies from yesterday’s iftar,” Remus said. 
“Yes, those are so good!” Roman agreed, “And I wrapped them in foil, so they should still taste fresh!” 
Virgil smiled and closed his eyes, wiping away his residual tears gently as he listened to his friends ramble and scramble to celebrate together. Maybe tonight, this strange amalgamation of Easter, Ramadan, and Passover, the mutual respect and admiration for these three holidays, was their most important event of the springtime.
--
(i hope you all enjoyed this fic!! during times like these especially, it is so important to remember that every religion is beautiful and valid, and every religious holiday ought to be respected! now, i am not catholic, christian, muslim, or jewish. i wrote about these holidays after doing extensive research from multiple sources for each, but if i got anything wrong, please please let me know and i will correct it to the best of my ability. i promise i want to learn and grow, just like these guys, so if something is inaccurate, please tell me if you feel so inclined, and i will take what you say into account!!)
(have an amazing spring, no matter what you celebrate!!)
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moonlit-flowerfield · 2 years
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Today is World Deaf Day, so I wanted to write. Thanks to @typically-untypical for helping me with the plot with no context.
LET ME KNOW IF YOU ARE DEAF AND I WAS INACCURATE IN MY DEPICTION. I WANT TO BE A GOOD WRITER, NOT A DICK.
Pairing: Intrulogical (Remus x Logan)
Context: Remus, for once, doesn't acknowledge Logan when he speaks. After a lot more work, they end up in a conversation where Remus explains something very surprising.
"Remus? You're up this early?" Logan asked, blinking at the creative side in what normally was his seat. Not that it bugged him- it was just shocking.
What was more shocking was Remus didn't respond. "Hello? Remus?"
No headphones... So he isn't listening to music. Strange.
Logan set his mug down on the table behind him, making a little bit more of a commotion than he liked. "Remus."
Still no response. Logan frowned, starting to make food. He noticed Remus seemed to notice the smell but still didn't acknowledge any words he spoke.
After around five minutes of attempting to just speak to get attention, he huffed in frustration and slammed a plastic plate of food down on the table in front of Remus. Which seemed to get the others attention as he jumped and looked at Logan dumbfoundedly.
"I see I now have your attention." Logan growled. No verbal response, but Remus seemed confused. "Don't try and pull that dumb act. You aren't Roman."
Still no verbal response, but Remus did have an answer. Just in the form of what seemed to be frantic handwaving. Logan wasn't familiar with ASL or other forms of sign language, however he did catch the sign for "sorry" and "deaf".
"I... Supposed it's okay. But what about deafness?" He sighed.
Remus squinted, then pulled his phone out and tapped on an app he never really used.
I'm deaf, sorry. Can you look at me and speak slowly? Or just text me.
Logan was surprised to hear a text to speech app in use. But more so, he was surprised to hear it say Remus was deaf. Before he could respond, Roman and Janus came down the the stairs, tapping Remus' shoulder and signing things to him. Logan swore he caught "careful" but only because Roman was also mouthing the words. He watched Remus sign thank you, then get handed little things before the snake and prince went off different directions.
"Wh-" Logan was confused, but watched Remus put the small things in his ear, clicking a button then sighing.
"And now I have some hearing." Remus grumbled, his voice vaguely different than normal. The Duke turned to the teacher. "Sorry. My stupid hearing aids broke yesterday after a training session with Ro, so Jan and he had to fix them. They might be cranky since they spent all night together."
"You're deaf? How have I know known this?" Logan asked, frowning a little. "I was to assume we were close."
"We are!" Remus assured. "I promise! Heck, Patton doesn't know either! Oly reason Jan and Virgin know is because they are- were... Dark Sides. Roman knows because he's my brother." Remus sighed. "I didn't know how to bring it up. I would've told ya sooner if I was good at personal shit."
Logan moved closer. "I see. So those 'earbuds' you always wear..."
"My hearing aids." Remus confirmed. "Normally I'm on top of the bullshit for them but training makes it harder." He pulled Logan into his lap, chuckling a little when the Logical Side blushed a little. "Besides. The rare times I don't wear them, you all are talking directly to me so I can read your lips. Or your texting."
Logan cleared his throat. "Ah." He had many other questions, though he was sure most were rude. Well, rude for normal people.
"Go on, interrogate me, teach." Remus laughed.
Logan sighed. "Do... You know how this occurred?"
Remus hummed, a dopey smile on his face. "Pretty sure I've been this way since the split. Romans a little deaf, but nothing bad enough to need a hearing aid or assistance. It's why he's so loud though!"
Logan nodded. "I see. And, I'm sure you've not thought of this... Or whatever. But can you not self-actualize yourself to... Not be deaf?"
Remus blinked. "I have tried. Not that I mind it, but it's not possible." He shrugged. "It's like Janus being half snake. It's just who I am." Remus squinted. "You need your glasses to see and Thomas doesn't need glasses, so you don't get to really say shit about self-actualization about making yourself '1000% healthy', by the way."
Logan blushed again. "I'm aware. It was more of a research question!" He said. "Though, I'm aware how ablest that sounded. Apologies."
Remus smiled. "I'm not mad. Just saying."
Logan sighed. "I'm... Not well aquatinted with this disability. I need to study up on it." He said, moreso to himself. "As well as I should study ASL and other sign languages should something happened again."
Remus' eyes lit up and he kissed Logan. "You are the fucking best dork nerd boyfriend ever!"
Logan blushed harder once again. "I'm only trying to bring more equality to the table."
And yet, there was something new to this relationship. A door to more personal topics had been opened, and both were happy to be able to trust their partner with those things... Even if they were going to stay in that proverbial closet longer.
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lefaystrent · 1 month
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"I want to tell you something."
Thomas speaks the words into the quiet of the kitchen. He stares down at the pot of water sitting on the stove. The burner has been lit, and the heat rises. Soon, the water will boil.
"And it's- it's something that I've thought for a long time now. Years. But I've never said anything."
The smallest of bubbles rise to the surface. Over his shoulder, Thomas can see Patton sitting at the bar.
"It's okay. Take your time," he says. His nose scrunches up as he smiles. His glasses reflect a scattering of kitchen light.
Thomas snorts. "I think years is enough time." He breaks a bundle of pasta in half, letting them fall gently into the steaming water. He adjusts the temperature, then shifts on his feet. "I've just...never said anything," he repeats.
"You don't have to say anything at all." Janus sits at the bar instead. He wears a frown, and he's leaned over the surface with his chin in a propped palm, but the patience in his gaze belays his bored demeanor. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I certainly won't force you."
Want to? No.
Thomas shakes his head and stirs the pot. "I think I need to."
"Do you?" Logan sits at the bar. His arms are folded over his tie, but it's not an intimidating pose. It's careful. Considerate. "I'd like you to take a moment to 'check yourself before you wreck yourself', as they say. Is that how you use that phrase?"
Thomas rolls his eyes, and yet he's smiling. This is a heavy topic, but it's not constricting. He stirs the noodles easily and they begin to fold together like they were made to. "I'm okay. I don't need to think about it more. I'm not anxious, not really."
"Yeah?" And now it's Virgil sitting at the bar. He stops as if he had been caught in the middle of playing with the string of his hoodie. Then he smooths down the front of his clothes. No ruffles here. He nods. "Good. That's good. That's good, right?"
Thomas still smiles. "Yes, that's good." The pasta softens as it swirls around the water. Round and round it goes. When will it stop? Nobody knows.
"Well don't just keep me in suspense!" Remus slams his hand down on the bar. And then he does it again and again, maybe just to hear the smack, smack, smack. He's not grinning maniacally or anything. Just a quirk of his mustache. A glint in his eyes. A cocked brow. "You know I love a good tease... but this is playing too coy!"
Thomas heaves a huge sigh. "I guess I just..." He trails off. He knocks the spoon against the pot's rim to shake off the water. He sets it aside. "I just don't want this to change anything."
The warmth of the burner blankets his face. The stove vent thrums above his head, and distantly Thomas hears the air conditioner click on. A light sheen of perspiration beads across his face, but its not wholly unpleasant.
Would it be bad? If this did change anything?
Roman sits at the bar. His shoulders are low, like all the breath has left him. He watches Thomas calmly with sad eyes. "What have you got to lose?"
In the pot, the pasta swirls and swirls until it's ready.
"I love you," Thomas finally says, and he turns to look over his shoulder to find that it's himself who sits there.
The other him beams proudly. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"
Satisfied, Thomas flicks off the stove burner and drains the water in the sink. He stirs together noodles, hamburger meat, and red sauce, until its in perfect measures, just the way he likes it.
After making himself a plate, Thomas sits at the dining table. He is alone with himself, and he's alright with that.
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nectorbruise · 8 months
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I don’t actually want Logan to become the orange side…I however do want him to be used like a puppet. Ford Pines possessed by Bill Cipher part two. Pretty please
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goldnskyart · 5 months
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We’re simply meant to be~
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Prinxiety Jack and Sally>>>
I just wanted to redraw the one I made last year but I decided to do the kiss scene too and it accidentally turned out better-
Close ups and last years under the cut
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the way Roman started off as a proper prince; regal accent, poetic catchphrases and all. and then that accent started disappearing as he started speaking more and more like just a normal guy, disguising his pain with cringy jokes, trying desperately to get everyone's attention, no longer self-assured and prideful, because he's no longer Thomas's hero.
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transacewithapan · 3 months
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When someone recognizes your old and cringey writing:
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P A N I K
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loganslowdown4 · 3 months
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Roman: You’re going to do fine with this big presentation, Specs.
Logan: *stressed out* You’re only saying that because you love me. Love has made you dumb.
Roman: On the contrary, I think being in love with you has made me smarter than ever. Remember last week when I boiled that egg?
Logan: That was big. I was really proud of you.
@loginceweek2024
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emoprincey · 7 months
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The thing is that all the sides have the ability to shapeshift, Janus is just the only one who makes use of it. So I think it would be really funny if one of the sides decided to shapeshift and impersonate Janus.
Next time Janus impersonates Logan, then Logan should show up disguised at him, and Janus would be so offended he'd end up insisting that he is the real Janus.
Or someone shows up disguised as him while Janus is being himself just to cause extra confusion. The possibilities are limitless.
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kieraelieson · 1 month
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An idea.
Logan and Virgil live in two apartments, side by side. They have never met, other than maybe an awkward wave or a nod in passing.
The apartments used to be one house. Roman and Remus died as children in that house, and haunted it as ghosts afterwards. They are somehow stuck separated ever since the update to two apartments.
Now Roman haunts Virgil and Remus haunts Logan. As ghosts, they have a power of being able to summon anything they can fit inside their fist that has at any point in time existed in the house. They have small fists though, as children.
Roman likes to leave Virgil little Werther’s candies around. Remus likes to swap out Logan’s goldfish with one from the past.
Janus is a Reigen-Arataka-style exorcist, and Patton is his boyfriend and assistant who is very taken in by the flash and glitter and believes it fully. At some point they are hired, and then re-hired and re-hired, to get the twins away. The twins find this hilarious.
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delimeful · 5 months
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WIBAR Intermission: Visiting Home (1/3)
G/T July Day 17: Home
this intermission has 3 parts, taking place during different points in the WIBAR timeline. this chapter takes place before LMMR/Act 2 of WIBAR! baby time :)
shoutout to nyn for inspiring the last scene with Roman at the end! 
warnings: negative assumptions, mentions of blood/hunting/injury, mild fear/nervousness, other than that it's all fluff (literally)
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Despite the tension buzzing at the back of his skull, Virgil found that being planetside again was surprisingly… nice.
He would have preferred that it was an uninhabited area— or at least, that it wasn’t one of the only places in the universe that had aliens he really, really couldn’t afford to terrify— but he couldn’t deny that feeling the ground under his feet and the sunlight on his skin was soothing, a balm he hadn’t known he’d needed.
It wasn’t the same as Earth, not really, but Patton’s home planet was close enough to familiar that he found tension seeping from his overwrought muscles despite himself.
He shook some of the dazed contentment off, flicking a glance over his shoulder and reminding himself that if any of the locals saw him, it could spell Capital-D Disaster.
His little excursion into one of the less populated natural areas near the little port town was entirely unplanned, and all the riskier for it, but they simply hadn’t had any better options.
Patton had been putting off visiting his family for longer than anyone would have liked— first with the excuse of healing from his injuries, and then with the financial strain that had come from his crewmates dedicating the bulk of their time to searching for him, rather than doing their usual delivery and transport jobs.
(The strain of providing for an entire new off-the-books crewmate, too, Virgil knew. He tried to avoid taking up too much, resource-wise, but there was only so little he could eat before his symptoms went from barely-tolerable to unmanageable.
The adrenaline crash and resulting sprains after he’d intervened in the raiders’ attack had been a painful reminder that most days, his body felt like it was barely holding together at the seams.)
Finally, they’d managed to weave together a cover story believable enough that the trip was set in motion, with the caveat that Patton would go planetside to visit, and Virgil would stay on the ship, up in orbit, firmly out of range of discovery.
Patton hated the idea of lying to his loved ones, wanted more than anything to introduce Virgil and prove he wasn’t the monster the galaxy thought he was, but even his stubborn optimism hadn’t held up under the combined forces of the other 3/4ths of the crew.
It was too dangerous for word to get out about Virgil, especially after the close call they’d already had, narrowly averted thanks to Remyy. Between Logan’s points on the historical government response to rumors of rogue humans, Roman’s assertions that bounty hunters of all kinds would begin targeting them, and Virgil’s own intense discomfort with the idea of his existence being revealed to others when he’d only just gotten free, Patton had conceded, if a bit morosely.
So, things had proceeded according to plan… right up until Patton’s clutchmates commed in, requesting that they bring the Mindscape down so that they could fill Patton’s quarters and kitchen with a variety of gifts and supplies to remind him of home after he left.
Patton hadn’t been informed. A surprise, they’d said, meant to show their love and care for their sibling in a way that would linger as long as possible.
It was a cultural custom, apparently, and Patton’s hard headed tendencies must have run in the family, because they’d refused to take no for an answer without a good reason.
Unfortunately for the reason in question, informing them that there was another crew member onboard who couldn’t be seen by anyone else would only defeat the purpose of staying off planet in the first place.
And so, after very intense sweep of the ship to hide away any trace of Virgil’s presence, he’d swept his old cloak around his shoulders, followed Logan offboard, and let himself be guided to what seemed to be an unoccupied area of the coastal jungle that surrounded the local populace.
Logan had requested he stay in the general area until he returned from corralling the busybody relatives, and then rushed back to the ship where Roman waited, looking more harried than Virgil had ever seen him.
It was an awkward, stressful situation, sure. But he still couldn’t help but marvel a little at the thick, dark fronds of the trees and the almost powdery texture of the grey-white sand beneath his feet.
He hadn’t gotten very many chances to actually appreciate the wonder of being in space, on alien planets, with how much of his stay so far had either been locked in cages aboard ships or on the run, too busy trying to survive to take in the scenery.
Running his fingers over the corkscrew-patterned bark of one of the nearby tree trunks, Virgil didn’t notice the slight rustling of a nearby brush.
Marren had thought the alien an intruder at first, had skidded to a halt and narrowly avoided toppling out of the underbrush right in front of them.
Behind her, Robbyn and Denel tumbled against her back with the beginnings of peeped complaints at the interruption of their game.
“Ssst!” Marren made a whistle that was more air than sound, her baby feathers ruffling up in pre-emptive upset. “Quiet, there’s a stranger!”
Unlike any other game, her playmates immediately went silent, eyes growing round and nervous. They all knew better than to catch the attention of a maybe-dangerous unfamiliar alien.
Especially now. One of the older kids had told horror stories about smugglers when the grown-ups weren’t listening, insisting that straying fledglings would get all their feathers shredded off and fed to the horrible monsters at the bottom of the Spacesea, where starlight and ships alike couldn’t reach.
They’d gotten in big trouble for the tall tales, but the story had already been taken up by the waves and couldn’t be squashed, especially with the fearful but dedicated belief of younger fledglings.
“Is it a monster?” Denel asked, already looking more fluff than form.
Marren… couldn’t really tell.
They were huge, even bigger than the Draellex spacefarer who had come to do a presentation for her class last season, but most of their features were also obscured by the long, deep grey cloak that they were swathed in.
“They’ve got hands,” she reported instead, because the stranger was touching various plants and rocks with nubby, strangely smooth fingers. “No claws, though.”
“Maybe a trader ship came early?” Robbyn offered thoughtfully. Their downy soft pink feathers were the least fluffed up between the three of them, their gaze focused on the alien with an intense curiosity.
“We woulda seen it, right?” Marren replied dubiously, before going quiet for a moment as the hooded head of the stranger turned and paused as though listening.
She didn’t continue until they turned back to their slow inspection of the wildlife, letting out a tiny peep-peep-peep of relief. “The only ship that came down is Uptel Patton’s, and he’s only got two playmates.”
She’d only met one of her Uptel’s friends in person, and only when she was a baby baby, way before her first molt, so she barely remembered it, but there were plenty of pictures in her Elder Uptel Farrun’s home. Patton’s parents were always happy to talk about their spacefarer son, and Marren always got a fun trinket from her Uptel when he visited.
Well. Almost always.
He’d seemed very distracted when she’d seen him this morning, enough that he’d barely noticed her amongst the many relatives that had swarmed to greet him after his longer than usual absence.
Something bad had happened to him, Marren had been told, which had made his parents’ home feel all sad-grief-loss whenever she visited, but he was all better now.
She wasn’t so sure. Everyone around him had felt like relief-joy-kinship at the sight of him, sure, but her Uptel had never flinched away from preening before.
“Maybe he got a new one?” Denel asked, still half-hidden behind Robbyn but not quite as frightened.
Marren made a considering chirp, and then began shuffling under the wiry branches as quietly as possible, seeking out a closer bush.
“Where are you going?” both of her playmates asked in very different tones.
“Gonna look closer,” she replied, and then froze as the answer carried farther than she meant it to.
The stranger turned sharper this time, and searched the clearing with tiny back-and-forth movements of their head.
“Patton?” they called after a moment, and Marren almost startled back in shock: the alien had spoken Uptel Patton’s actual name, not the Common version, and sounded uncannily close to an actual Ampen.
If it weren’t for how impossibly big the stranger was, she might have thought it was a simple prank, a couple of older kids stacked on top of each other under a form-disguising cloak.
Her gaze trailed down and finally focused on the familiar glow coming from the shadowed neckline of the cloak. She would know that glow anywhere!
“They’ve gotta special charm!” she crowed, and pushed past the branches to dart out into the open, intent on inspecting her Uptel’s newest friend.
Patton’s friend stumbled back hard with a sharp inhale, and Marren abruptly remembered that it wasn’t polite to startle people, especially strangers, and slowed to a stop. She angled her head up to try and peer into the shadows of the hood, squinting her eyes almost closed in as innocent and friendly a look as possible.
“I’m Marren,” she introduced herself, using the little bit of Common that her Uptel had taught her. “The stars greet you and so do I!”
That kind of greeting was more for actually being up in space with all the stars, but she figured it was the thought that counted.
Patton’s friend muttered something in an unfamiliar language, their tone soft, and then lowered themself to a seated position, much slower than they’d moved before. “My name is Virgil. It’s… nice to sea you?”
Marren let out a peal of chirping laughter, nearly knocking herself off balance with the force of her amusement.
That was definitely one of Uptel Patton’s friends, alright. He was the only bondrelative she had who put silly word jokes in his greetings like that.
“Can I sea you?” she shot back brightly, and when that didn’t seem to make it through, she pretended to move an invisible hood down from her own head.
Friend Virgil went all stiff for a moment, before speaking again. “I don’t think… uh, that’s not a good idea. I’m… I’m shy.”
Marren was distracted for a moment by puzzling through the words; it was an odd combination of Common and Ampen words, some of them a little smushed together until they almost seemed like a new word entirely.
Once the meaning behind the answer registered, though, she made a long, protesting whistle. “I’m not gonna be mean to you! Denel’s shy, too, you guys can get along!”
“Denel?” Friend Virgil echoed, again pronouncing the name eerily accurately, and Marren heard a little peep of alarm from behind her.
Antennae twitching with frustration, she turned and gave the bushes her best irritated stare, fluffing up indignantly. “They’re Patton’s friend! They’ve gotta be nice to me, I’m his favorite telit! Stop acting so new-hatched!”
“You’re his only little cousin,” Robbyn was speaking to her as they hopped into view, but their wide eyes were locked on Friend Virgil like they’d just found a shiny new stone. “Can they talk?”
“Kinda,” Marren chirped back, since it seemed like Friend Virgil knew more of the spacefarer tongue than their native one. “I know enough space words to translate! Probably.”
“You’re going to hurt your throat,” Robbyn cautioned in their best know-it-all voice. Marren was saved from having to answer by the thud of Denel tripping his own way out of the bush.
With his underlayer all fluffed out like that, it was no wonder that he accidentally rolled a few feather-lengths along the ground, squawking in high-pitched, babyish alarm as he tumbled.
Friend Virgil leaned forward so quickly that even Marren peeped in surprise, but all they did was set a humongous cupped hand next to Denel to keep him from toppling any further. Denel pulled all his limbs in with a panicked squeak as he bumped into the helping hand, and turned his head to peer up at Friend Virgil nervously.
“Safe and sound,” Friend Virgil crooned, in the sort of lullaby sing-song tone that was usually used to soothe hatchlings. “Okay, good, okay?”
It took Denel a stunned moment to respond, but when he chirped affirmative, the waver in his whistle had faded to almost nothing. He slowly uncurled, and even reached out for balance as he got back upright, looking absolutely awestruck.
He was way more aether-sensitive than most fledglings, Marren recalled, which meant that Friend Virgil must have been radiating some deeply trustworthy energy. As always, she had been totally right! Of course Patton’s friend was nice!
Marren wasted no time in spinning back around and darting up to Friend Virgil’s legs, giving them her best pleading expression.
“See? We can all be friends, you’re big-nice and nobody will be mean to you! Please please please?”
Virgil was not good with kids.
Specifically, he wasn’t good at saying no to kids.
Back home, they’d always picked up on it the moment they saw him, like sharks catching the scent of blood in the water, except the sharks were twelve year olds and the blood was Virgil’s inability to tell them not to draw on him in sharpie.
He’d finally found something that humans and aliens had in common, it seemed, because Marren– the apparent leader of the little group– had immediately figured out exactly how to use the Ampen version of puppy dog eyes against him. It was like nature had designed them as adorable feathery pom-pom creatures as a tactic designed to target him, specifically.
He hadn’t stood a chance.
As such, he found himself seated in the middle of the small clearing, his hood lowered and face exposed for anyone to see, being used as an actual, literal human jungle gym by a bunch of chirping alien fuzzballs.
The playtime racket must have been attracting more, because it felt like every time he looked up, three or four entirely new bundles of fluff had appeared, racing around his feet or climbing up the side of his cloak, chattering between themselves in strings of tweets and whistles.
The namecall they used for him wasn’t quite accurate, sounding more like ‘frrr-kul’ with a rolling trill followed by a chirp that only occasionally resembled the latter half of his name. They seemed to have a much harder time than Patton making the non-bird sort of syllables, which made sense, seeing as they were itty bitty babies.
“Frrrr-kul!” one of them called gleefully, summoning him over to the other side of the clearing for the newest round of whatever it was they were playing.
Virgil wasn’t ashamed to admit that something in his chest squeezed a bit as another fledgling turned dizzying little loop-de-loops in front of him, presumably leading him over to the new spot. For once, the heart palpitations he was experiencing around strange aliens were almost entirely cuteness-induced.
Almost, because there was still a solid chunk of his brain panicking viciously about how tiny and soft and fragile they all were, hence him moving at the pace of a seasick slug.
Marren had put forward a half-hearted complaint about how slow he was moving, to no avail. As it turned out, the only thing more compelling to him than a kid’s heartfelt request was the fear of accidentally hurting one of them.
It had taken him at least fifteen minutes just to stop flinching every time one of them fell or flung themself off of his knee or shoulder or— for one very stealthy candidate— his head, only to tumble lightly back to the ground unharmed, the impact entirely cushioned by their fluff.
He’d caught the first five or six on sheer instinct, which had only prompted even more to partake in the fun new ‘game’, until he gave up and accepted his fate as a living launch pad. Thankfully for his stress levels and long-term heart health, they had moved onto another game quickly enough.
He was slightly less thankful that every game so far had included him being scampered over, without exception, but he should have figured as much just from being friends with Patton, honestly.
His latest role seemed to be a very ill patient, as one of Marren’s friends walked around—and on— him carefully, calling out chirped instructions and sending the rest of the participants scrambling into the nearby brush. Within a few moments, they’d return with leaves, twigs, and other forest detritus, which would then be painstakingly applied to the top of his hand, or his chin, or wherever else the ‘doctor’ gestured to. Half the time, the makeshift bandages would flutter off the moment Virgil shifted even a little, prompting chitters of delight as the kids hurried to re-apply them.
Still better than any healthcare he’d gotten on Earth, honestly.
Seeing as his current job was to lay in place morosely like that guy from the Operation board game, he eventually closed his eyes and let himself relax a little, trying to hide an irrepressible closed-lip smile.
A few rounds later, he heard a chorus of what sounded like Patton’s favorite greeting chirp, but in a range of much higher pitches. He cracked his eyes open, expecting another gaggle of fledglings had showed up, and instead found that Logan was standing at the edge of the clearing, arms all dropped limply to his sides in shock.
Virgil went tense, only managing to repress his flinch because a good portion of his brain was still dedicated to monitoring where all the babies were around him, and currently at least ten were clinging onto his person. “Okay, listen. This was not my idea.”
Logan carefully tucked his hands behind his back in what Virgil first mistook for a polite gesture, only to emerge with what was unmistakably the portable camera he used whenever he was collecting video data for later.
“...Really?”
Whirr-click. Logan didn’t even bother looking apologetic as he began recording Virgil’s pint-sized tormentors. “If Patton didn’t get a memento of this, he would never forgive me, facetiously speaking.”
Rolling his eyes, Virgil slowly shifted up to his elbows, a startling amount of leaves fluttering down from his hair. A tentative hand feeling around in his hair revealed a fluffy stowaway, who peeped in displeasure as Virgil carefully disentangled them.
Talk about having a bird’s nest for hair. That was probably a sign that he needed a trim, but for now he could only laugh to himself, using two fingers to try and soothe the ruffled feathers of the fledgling that had apparently seen his head as prime real estate.
“You’re… very good with them,” Logan commented, shuffling closer with uncharacteristic tentativeness. “Is it normal to take on a parental role for children that aren’t under your care on Earth?”
Virgil snorted, and then leaned forward a little to help keep one of the more tenacious fledglings clinging to him from losing their grip. “It depends on the person, but honestly? A lot of humans are total suckers for anything cute making baby sounds, human or not. Sometimes to the point that the keener wildlife will take advantage of it and lead us to babies that are injured or out of reach because they know that odds are, a human will help.”
“Truly? Non-domesticated species, as well?” Logan replied, visibly distracted from his slow approach by the implications. “Cooperative dynamics between sapient species and local fauna are present on many planets, but for almost all studied Deathworlds, such a thing is unheard of. The risk is higher in harsher environments, where a much more competitive nature is required for survival.”
“Yeah, for real. I used to work as an assistant… uh. An assistant animal-healer, and people were always bringing in abandoned babies they’d found. Sometimes they were actually in need of help, but sometimes they definitely weren’t,” Virgil huffed a little at the memories, holding still as a fledgling took a running leap to jump from one of his knees to the other. “It was well-intentioned, though. Lots of people hate to see a baby left alone and jump to conclusions, since you’d never do that with a human infant.”
Logan’s hands twitched, and Virgil carefully shrugged one shoulder, giving him permission to record the information.
“Just make sure you don’t write stuff about babies or kids down where anyone could get to it,” he cautioned, chewing on the edge of his lip. “I trust you, but I don’t trust, y’know… the rest of space. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Correct,” Logan confirmed, having heard that exact catchphrase from Virgil probably about twelve times a week. “Am I alright to approach?”
“What?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, of course, just be careful. I mean, you’re definitely safer for them to be around than me.”
There was a relieved angle to Logan’s ears as he stepped forward, nimbly avoiding a few of the fledglings chasing each other back and forth like feathered tumbleweeds. “I disagree. They seem quite safe in your hands,” he said. “I have no doubt that Patton would be ecstatic to know that you’ve managed to make some friends amongst his kin despite our need for secrecy.”
Right. His cover had been blown five minutes in by the Ampen equivalent of a bunch of grade-schoolers. Crap.
“Let your mind remain at ease,” Logan added, either correctly reading the panic on his face or just guessing from the not-inconsiderable experience he had with Virgil. “With Ampens this young, I’m certain that your positive impression as a playmate will be the bulk of what they mention to their families. I’ve already heard a few of them refer to you as ‘Patton’s shy friend,’ so I imagine most will come up with the rest of the answer on their own assumptions.”
"'Patton's shy friend'?" Virgil felt his ears redden as his face heated up, and there was a chorus of delighted whistle-squeals from the nearest fledglings.
“You change colors just like Uptel Patton!” Marren shouted excitedly, and, well.
There were at least four different species of alien he knew of that shifted colors in all sorts of ways, from a gradual chameleon shift to the rapid flush of an octopus. This was one trait that wasn’t likely to make anyone think ‘Human’.
“Do another color!” A small harmony of encouraging peeps and eager gazes.
“Uh…,” Virgil cast a helpless look of his own Logan’s way. “I mean, I can probably do purple if I hold my breath for long enough?”
“Alright,” Logan cut in urgently,“I think it’s time that Virgil get back to the ship, actually, you’ll have to play with him again the next time we come to visit. Yes, yes, everyone off now…”
Miraculously, they’d managed to get through the entire impromptu visit without either of Patton’s flockmates seeing any errant belongings, broken cabinets, or any other indications of the highly illegal and infamous Deathworlder they definitely had onboard.
Roman let out an exhausted snort, trying not to shift impatiently as he stood by the boarding platform and waited for Logan to return with Virgil. If Patton was there, he would have given him a disappointed look for being so blatantly untrusting, but he wasn’t, and it had been a long day, so Roman could be on edge if he wanted to, okay?!
Thankfully, Logan chose that moment to step out from the shade of the forested area, exchanging an assessing look with Roman before deeming the path clear and beckoning Virgil to follow him on board.
The Human padded after Logan, footsteps eerily quiet as always, and… huh. He looked a lot less stressed than he’d seemed when they’d all but shoved him off the ship a few hours ago. Roman tried not to feel immensely suspicious about it, but he glanced down to check his hands for blood anyhow.
He was mostly sure that the Human didn’t actually have any murderous designs, especially not on anyone from Patton’s hometown, but they’d set him loose in a random forest with little to no guidance. Roman couldn’t rule out the idea that Virgil had entertained himself by hunting down some of the local fauna or something.
There was nothing, though, and so he forced his eyes away and checked in briefly with Logan instead. See? He could be cordial when he wanted to! He was a beacon of toleration, okay?
The claim fell a little flat even in his own mind, but he was promptly distracted by the tiniest hint of a whistle. He straightened up, alarm shooting through him as he swiveled his head this way and that, searching for any surprise witnesses.
His gaze fell on the Human as Virgil passed him to board the ship, and Roman stiffened at the sight of three fluffy bundles perched in the swoop of the Human’s hood. “Stop right there!”
Virgil went still, shoulders hunching upward like a bristle and eyes bizarrely wide, and Roman let his tail scrape from side to side for a moment as he glowered, only growing more certain of his guilt.
“I knew it, those are fledglings! Let them go this instant,” he started, planning to end with a suitable threat to ensure the safety of the smallest and most vulnerable of Patton’s kin, only for the Human to somehow go even more stiff and frozen.
“Oh my god, where?” He hunched over slightly, eyes flickering down to scan over his front and arms. “Are they okay?”
Roman pulled up short, admittedly disoriented at the show of clear and abrupt concern. One of the fledglings cheeped in dismay, and Virgil’s head tilted, following the sound.
“Guys, that’s not safe,” he groaned, and then repeated it in Ampen tongue. “Not safe. Not good, not safe, okay?”
His hand twitched up like he was going to reach for them, but then he hesitated for a moment, before slowly turning around so that his hood faced Roman. “Can you help them out? I know they’ve got all the feathers and stuff to keep them safe, but I still don’t want… I don’t want to jostle the hood and knock them out or something.”
“I… yes,” Roman said, feeling like he’d just been hit by a paralyzer shot. He reached out and scooped the fledglings out of their makeshift nest, watching as Virgil’s shoulders grew more and more taut. The Human didn’t trust him, but he held still anyways. “You’ve got, ah. Leaves and twigs. In your head pocket.”
“I bet I do,” he muttered, before taking a few slightly too-fast steps away once he’d checked that his fuzzy passengers had been evacuated. With soft, cautious movements, he patted down the rest of himself, including his other pockets and even the folds of his overcloak. “I think I’m good.”
“That was very dangerous,” Roman scolded, looking down at the trio with disapproval.
Virgil shuffled slightly, looking at him more directly than he usually did. After a moment, he spoke. “They’re fine, right? It’s not their fault, they just think it’s a game.They’re… they’re only babies.”
This was what worry looked like on a Human, Roman realized with a jolt, and managed to choke down his initial offense at the very idea that he would hurt them. He’d assumed the same at first glance, hadn’t he? Virgil had never seen him with kits before, and didn't know very much about him. Roman hadn’t exactly been sharing information or encouraging any bonding, and it wasn’t like the Mindscape had provided very many opportunities for interacting with younglings thus far.
Stars, he hoped there hadn’t been any kids on the smuggler ship. The very idea made him sick.
“Of course they’re fine,” he replied a bit shortly, cradling them a little closer. “Kits will be kits. They didn’t mean any harm, like you said.”
“Oh. Okay, that’s good,” Virgil said, some of that odd tension falling away. He looked back down at the kids. “Uh. Bye, little guys. Stay safe.”
He mimicked a farewell trill with uncanny accuracy, and the fledglings all echoed it with varying levels of mournfulness. Virgil waved as he edged his way up the ship’s ramp backwards, like he thought the kids would ambush him the moment he took his eyes off of them.
Seeing as these three had somehow snuck past a Human’s senses, Roman almost couldn’t blame him.
“When I next see Patton, I’m going to tell him to have a serious talk with you all about being too adventurous, you hear me? Crewmates are not for climbing,” Roman lectured as he carried them back to the main path. He paused to think about how hypocritical that lesson would be coming from Patton, who took any excuse to perch on Virgil. “Oh, for stars’ sake.”
Well, whatever. This was just a one-off. What were the odds they would ever be bringing the Human back here, anyhow?
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prodigal-explorer · 6 months
Text
here are some of my favorite sanders sides rp responses i’ve written lately!! enjoy perusing, some are angsty, some are sweet, some are in between! (also cw for violence, implied s/a, relationship abuse/violence, and implied ableism)
Roman shook his head. He took a very, very long time to speak, his mind hazy and busy as he scrambled to figure out how to say what he needed to say in English. It was already hard enough to speak in English when his mind was perfectly clear, but in this state, all the words, even the simplest ones were escaping him.
"C'est- mauvais. Tu ne veux pas savoir. Vraiment."
He narrowed his tear-filled eyes, frustrated, so angry with himself for not being able to communicate the right way. He felt trapped and lost, like a child. Like a child too young to say what they want, so all they could do is...
Cry.
Roman cried.
He felt so exposed, never having cried in America yet. He wanted to come across as this adult, this blossoming, mature feat of majesty and poise. And now, he was falling apart, blood dripping between his legs, in front of his boyfriend's little brother.
"Je veux ma maman..." he whispered. He wanted his mother. He barely knew his mother.
What he meant to say was that he wanted a mother.
That whole evening in Roman's head had been a blur. Ever since the trial ended, Roman had started to forget the details of what happened that night. It turned fuzzy, and that was how Roman liked it. He didn't want to remember the pain, the suffering, the betrayal he experienced. But now that he saw all the blood and substance on that carpet, dried up and crusted, and smelling like death, he couldn't forget it anymore. It all came flooding back to him like a tsunami. Tears formed in his eyes.
"It's all still there," he whispered, "I was so close to forgetting it for real. It's not fair. It's- it's not fair!"
In a fit of sudden anger, Roman grabbed the nearest lamp, sitting on top of a side table, and he threw it at the carpet. It shattered, the pieces splaying all over the place.
"It's not fair!" Roman shouted, kicking the side table until it fell over, starting to wreck everything in the room. Pictures, pillows, chairs, tables, all of it was coming down. It was only when he got to that dreadful carpet, the place where his body was destroyed, where he stopped, falling onto his knees and sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. "This is where he-...he...he was trying to teach Janus a lesson. He said I was his favorite."
And Roman was honestly amazing at his job. He had a lot of spills, and struggled a lot with things like remembering orders and handling the busy environment, but he rarely got an order wrong because he always sang them to himself while he made them, and he was nice to customers, often going above and beyond to make them happy. He was paid just as much as the other employees, but his paycheck had a few dollars less because of how often he gave people free things. As hard as his managers tried to explain the concept of “we don’t have infinite cake pops so you can’t give one to every little kid”, it never really stuck with Roman. He just thought kids needed cake pops.
“I’m not treating you like Roman!” Virgil sputtered defensively, “What on Earth makes you say that?”
Roman, who was quietly listening in from the hallway, faltered a bit in silent confusion. What was so bad about being treated like him?
“Stop that,” Virgil said, his tone icy and terrifying. He was never angry. Ever. So this was a first for Logan and for Roman who was watching. Virgil had the patience of a saint and the temper of a rabbit. He didn’t get angry easily. So this was very new territory that not even Virgil knew how to navigate. “You’re acting immature, and I know you’re more mature than this, Logan. Why can’t you see that I’m just trying to help you? You’re still a child, whether you like it or not. Whether you feel like one or not. Just because Roman is the way he isn’t doesn’t mean that you’re the smartest guy in the world, so stop acting like it.”
"It doesn't matter," Roman repeated, "You can watch Dogs 101 and eat cookies with me. Yeah, we can all spend nighttime together, just like we're supposed to do."
Roman grinned and bounced on his toes. Virgil seemed just as hesitant, worried about getting too close to Logan after the huge mistake he had made. But Roman was already off, singing and laughing as he got everything ready in the living room. Virgil lingered. "You don't have to," he whispered, "If you don't want to. Roman will understand." No he wouldn't. And they both knew it.
Roman squirmed where he was sitting, biting his lip so as not to cry. If he cried, he would be a baby. But he just had no idea how to express what he really wanted to say to Logan. He was starting to realize how Logan, and really, how the rest of the world percieved him. It was all hitting him at once, and it was hurting. Really, really bad.
He had always felt smaller than he was. But it wasn't until now when he realized just what that would mean.
A free spirit such as him didn't seem to be the type to approach music with such scientific detail, but Roman had such a love for music that that was just what ended up happening when his mind was so wound up in it. One can't help but be accurate in something when it's a piece of them. Nobody is inaccurate when they breathe. Nobody is inacurate when they blink.
A few times, Roman found himself making eye contact with Logan. At first, in a cautious way, as if to silently gauge whether or not he was doing a good job. But as the song progressed, Roman grew more comfortable, and eventually, these little glances turned into something more playful, as if he and Logan had a secret that the audience didn't know, but were dying to find out, and the two were sitting on it like kings sharing a throne.
Roman took a deep breath, closed his eyes, light brown and always glimmering with wonder, and opened them again as he started to sing. His voice was fluttering, like a bird's cry in summer. The kind that gently wakes you up at seven am, but it's so pretty you can't bring yourself to be mad for very long. He did some soft vocalizing before getting into the words.
And my goodness, were these words horrible.
It was like Logan and everyone else had stumbled into a third grade book report presentation, except it rhymed and it was even more terrible. It was like if One Direction got immensely drunk and decided to write all their lyrics with Dr. Seuss' vocabulary.
"Oh, baby, you're like the sky
You go so high
You're my babyyyy"
How was everyone else tolerating this? How was everyone else cheering for this?? Was it pretty privilige?? Was it alcohol poisoning??
"I love the way you dance
With your feet and hands
You're my babyyyy"
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moonlit-flowerfield · 2 years
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How Reckless (Intruality) ═SOULMATE AU═ || Sanders Sides Big Bang 2022
By Artist_Hope; beta read by @edupunkn00b and @kaythegay2022; art by @dystopiagnome and @im-an-anxious-wreck
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
AO3 Link!!
Pairing(s): Intruality, Prinxiety, Loceit, Remile
AU: Soulmate, but extra
Chapter: 1/4
Chapter word count: 1052
Summary: In a world where soulmates are assigned through various methods, Patton Morgan gets stuck with the more annoying "wound soulmate" assignment. Anytime his Soulmate, a Remus Duke, gets hurt, he feels and receives a matching wound. And it's /very/ annoying since Remus doesn't seem to mind pain and gets hurt a lot.
Remus Duke, his brother, Roman Prince, and his best friend, Janus Drake, are all looking for their soulmates. When they get to St Louis, Missouri, they end up with the best luck, finding all three. And Remus (despite his attempts to change that) doesn't think Patton likes him. Probably because he's pretty upset about the years of pain he's endured from Remus.
✨✨TLDR: Remus visits St Louis, Missouri to find Patton, his soulmate who has dealt with over 4 years of pain from reckless Re, and has to find a way to make up for it :')✨✨
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『The Thomas Sanders Sides Big Bang - 2022』
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Patton winced as his arm flared up in a sharp slice of pain. Remus Duke had done something to his arm. This wasn't the first time. After all, his Soulmate carved his name and a greeting in his arm not long after they noticed the connection.
The Morgan had gotten used to the concept of this Remus Duke getting hurt often. However, it didn't mean he had to like it. It sucked that there wasn't any way to actually communicate other than carving an address or his cell number into his body. And despite his efforts, none of the other Remus Dukes he’d ever found (not that there were many) were as banged up as Patton was.
It had come to his knowledge that the 3 Remus Dukes with the Physical Danger connection in his town were all very careful to avoid hurting their soulmates. And just from talking to them, apparently the name Remus was rarely given to people who had the last name Duke. Something about being too mafia-like? He didn't understand it really.
Needless to say, they were not his soulmates. And his was getting him nowhere.
He looked at his arm, seeing a rather surface gash that went down most of his forearm. "Darn it, Remus..." He groaned, getting up from the garden and walking inside. He was very tempted to prick his finger on the rose bush near the door but figured it wasn't worth it. No sense in being petty.
He moved to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit, sighing and starting to clean the wound. It would have been much easier were-
"We're back, Pat."
Oh, thank the lords of well-timed conveniences. "In the bathroom." Patton cleaned the wound as he heard the two come closer. Glancing up in the mirror, he saw Virgil and Logan Nyx come in.
"Again? Doesn't your Soulmate know the meaning of the word caution?" Virgil asked. Patton just shrugged as Logan moved to get the bandage wraps. "One time. All you gotta do is let Logan hit you once, and he'll learn."
"No! Being petty isn't gonna do anything, Virgil..." Patton really hated having this conversation. "How was your Brothers’ Day?"
Logan shrugged. "It went well. The My Chemical Romance reunion signing was actually quite fun and Virgil was quite thrilled at the Bioluminescence Exhibit at the museum." He started to wrap the wound.
"I like the natural glowy colours!" Virgil added, kind of using a defensive tone. "They're calming." He sat on the bathroom counter, grumbling. "Anyway, Pat, you're gonna have to get hurt so he learns to be more careful eventually. For all you know, you'll never meet him. And you both might get too hurt for help if he doesn't learn."
Honestly, as much as Patton hated to admit it, Virgil had a point. Remus was certainly reckless enough to get both himself and Patton killed. It wasn't unheard of. "I'll do it later when my arm isn't threatening to bleed," he said, not promising anything. "For now, I just want to finish gardening and make dinner."
“I do find it worrisome that you don’t seem as concerned as you should be about the amount of pain you receive over 3 days, Patton,” Logan said, finishing up with the dressing of the wound. “Just in the time we’ve been your housemates, you have received about 10 different wounds within 3 days as the top number. That’s at least 6,085 times in the 5 years we have been housemates if my calculations are correct.”
“Why would you calculate that?” Patton muttered, moving out of the bathroom to go back outside and at least finish his tulip gardening.
“Because I worry. We’ve known you for 13 years. Your soulmate seems to have been this reckless since you were 16 and received the connection to him, which if my math is correct and we’re using 10 wounds for every 3-day stretch as our base, equals at the very least 12,170 wounds to present. It’s a wonder you both are not dead already,” Logan said.
“You also forget he can calculate a lot of tough math in his head fast,” Virgil reminded Patton. “Besides, you don’t know anything about your soulmate. He could be a drug addict, or a dealer, or… Or some sort of mafia member!” Virgil put a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “You really should see about getting some extra protection.”
He hated this feeling the two brothers gave him. They never meant to, but it always happened. It didn’t surprise him that it happened with a wound this bad—it happened with less. But it didn’t make it any less annoying. “Thank you for the concern, Virgil, Logan. But I trust Remus to not die, even if he does worry me with how often he gets hurt. I’m sure he isn’t that reckless."
Logan and Virgil sighed, going back inside and leaving him alone. And as thankful as Patton was for that, he was very upset at the information he was given. Over 12,000 wounds within the ten years he's been connected to Remus. Hell, he didn't even know if they were compatible. It made no sense to him that he could even be… Then again, thinking back? No one thought he and the Nyx twins would work as friends.
Patton was 13 when he met Logan and Virgil for the first time. The twin brothers were quite different from what Patton had grown used to seeing. Logan was quiet and reserved—if he wasn't talking about his studies, and Virgil was timid, hardly ever seen talking unless it was through an app or his brother. It surprised everyone when the three became the best of friends. On Patton's actual 16th birthday, they were the first to help him with the carved words in his arm, not even three hours after he hit his face on a door because he didn't pay attention.
Despite all the pain and wounds he received, Logan and Virgil were always there for him and Patton was so thankful for that. They never left his side unless they had to. He had been given a place to stay, rent-free. And they were consistently willing to help him when things went wrong. They refused to let him suffer.
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randomnerd737 · 5 months
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headcannon: Logan has a hard time summoning items in the mind palace. this is because being able to just summon items out of thin air defies all, well, him. to combat this, Logan has a closet in his room full of random items he found. Patton left a stuffed animal in his room and never came to retrieve it? it's Logan's now. Roman pranked him by covering his walls in saran wrap? he keeps that shit and never has to use Tupperware ever again. Remus boobytrapped his room? he now has a large stockpile of throwing knives, arrows, spikes, ect.
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tsfander · 7 months
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“Want to guess the ending if it ever does?”
shading practice! also i’ll accept the title “that one artist who draws logan with flames all the time”
•open for better quality!! please repost 🫶🏻
Come and join our server, fellow fanders! https://discord.gg/3HJkMeRX
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analoceits · 7 months
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what if the orange side isnt some underlying entity "showing himself", like the other dark sides?
what if orange is forming before our eyes?
we all know about king creativity, right? thomas started hating some parts of creativity, some parts that became intrusive thoughts. creativity and intrusive thoughts just couldnt be one side. so they split.
and logan. logan is logic, yes, but hes also anger now. hes anger at thomas for not getting the respectable job and hes anger for pattons silly little fits and hes anger at every single imperfect part of thomas.
and thomas just can not get angry every time he tries to be logical, the mindscape knows that. so.. theres one answer. they split.
they call one of them logan. the one in blue and the one with the tie. he looks similiar, but.. hes sweet and eerily polite and he never yells falsehood. he cant quip with virgil the same way. hes always a little too off.
and the other - daedalus. daedalus is scary and loud and orange. hes angry tears and too-sharp teeth but hes the only one that says falsehood. hes the only one to make jokes that leave virgil laughing so hard he cant breath and if janus needs to talk shit, well.. 'logan' never asks. hes always a little too familiar.
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