#sympathetic logan

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

How Romantic

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

Read on Ao3

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

Pairings: none, so gen

Word Count: 4777

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

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

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

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

Got it?

Great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well. You get the idea.

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

Ah. So it is starting after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, that’s it.

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

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

Oh, Remus.

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

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

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

A more complete Creativity might’ve called it Romantic.

***

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

“Look, all I’m saying is that—“

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

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

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

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

“Sarcasm, Patton. That was sarcasm.”

“And see! That’s another thing—“

“Oh, for the love of Archimedes…”

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

Right, okay.

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

It had…developed from there.

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

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

“How is it a weird thing to ask?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sarcastic! I was being sarcastic!’

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

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

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

Remus shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

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

“It’s a simple issue, Thomas.”

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

There’s a pause.

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

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

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

“That’s because you guys are no fun.”

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

Logan adjusts his glasses. “I suppose so.”

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

“Perhaps he is working on another video idea.”

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

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

“Janus? Remus? What about you two?”

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

“Janus!”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Remus? You okay, buddy?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, it was…”

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Janny? What about you?”

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

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

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

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

A beat.

“…shit.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Roman.”

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

“On it!”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

“Are you checking for your pulse or something?”

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

“Oh, that’s probably not good.”

”We should go.”

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

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

Oh, Roman, buddy, where are you?

***

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

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

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

His chest feels tight.

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

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

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

“Remus? Remus!”

“Whoa, what the hell is this place?”

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

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

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

Another sob leaves his throat.

“I want my brother back!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan? What do we do?”

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

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

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

“What about this seems particularly romantic to you?”

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

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

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

“And Princey’s the exceptional figure?”

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

A breeze ruffles through the leaves.

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

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

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

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

“Get back!”

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

—is Roman.

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

“…Re?”

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

“What’s going on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman just shrugs. “Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Are…we done now?”

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

Roman shrugs.

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

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

‘What?”

“Do it!”

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

‘Hey,” he whispers, “what’s wrong?”

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

‘What do you mean?”

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

“Of course that’s okay, Ro.”

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

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

“Won’t they be mad?”

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

“…I’m sorry I left again, Re.”

“Pshh. Water under the Kraken.”

***

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

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

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

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

Roman blinks. “Wait, really?”

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

“…that’s one way to put it.”

“Do you, uh talk about it?”

“Not really.”

‘Okay.”

“Wait, you’re sure?”

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

“Thanks, Thomas.”

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

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

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

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[babsvibes]

Going to start spreading my “Harley is the best side character in Louise’s grade” propoganda. The facts:

Enjoys animals and stickers - cute

Down to steal a bounce house - a wild card

Fatal flaw is that she’s too excited - too bubbly for this world

Bad at sports - relatable

An icon - iconic

[fandoms-bandoms-andmentalissues]

Alone? Not Anymore

Logan is belittled, ignored, and discarded by the light sides, but until Janus and Remus help him find a new side of himself he didn’t think there was anything he could do about it. They help him make a very difficult choice suddenly very easy.

[dropout-if]

Hi, could you please tell us more about Logan?

Here you go🫂

Out of all the ROs and flings, Logan is probably the reddest of flags for reasons I can't disclose^^

Logan is J's older brother by four years (he turns 28 later in the story). Though J doesn't really remember much about their mom and is barely affected by her passing, Logan is the complete opposite.

He dropped out of high school when he was sixteen and is currently doing odd jobs while he finds something more stable, as per J's insistence.

Logan tends to just go along with what J says. He really trusts their judgement and depend on their little sibling.

That being said😭 Logan loves pulling the most ridiculous shit just to annoy J. The two are still really close though.

MC and Logan know of each other but they've never really met. Because of reasons I can't disclose.

In terms of personality, Logan is really intense. He rarely takes things seriously or thinks of the consequences of his actions, and he loves taking risks. He's also not the brightest tool in the shed fjjajfs

I'd say Logan's mbti is ESTP^^

[whqreforstevengrant]

Sander Sides Highschool AU

i’m gonna link the post with all the info here, so just come back to this later in the day of August 29th. I just wanted to put this massive glowup in my art out there.

yes this is a redraw of my original AU.

[michelangelo-error]

Patton Sanders Sides' Head-canons

~

Patton loves whenever the other sides play with his hair! When Virgil is ever feeling a little antsy he would let him make small messy braids🥰

Add on to the first- After he would leave the braids in, wanting to cherish the master piece a bit longer

When patton puts an object down he tends to give it a gentle pat

One of Patton's love languages is touch, one day the other sides started noticing the small touches he does. Poke on a cheek, shoulder nudges, and fixing a wild hair strand

Whenever, Roman or Remus needed to practice their makeup skills they knew they could rely on Patton to be such a good sport. Even if it ended with some horrific creations especially from Remus😭 (But anything for those Kiddos)

During Janus' more stressed filled nights, Patton would drag him to the living (Luring him in with his favorite wine, making Hot chocolate for himself) then throwing on a Disney film.

[greenninjagal-blog]

The Rumor Mill Game (pt5)

Long time, no see. :) If you’ve forgotten what’s going on, you can find the previous chapter [here!] Or if you’re new to this, find the start [here!]

Summary: Office coworkers Logan and Remus have created the rumor that they are married and have a son, except that Logan kinda yelled that he didn’t have a son in front of a bunch of people.

Virgil is well....Virgil is going to change that. And he definitely has the blackmail to do it.

Word Count: 8346

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Okay. So. It wasn’t like when Logan and Remus showed up at the restaurant, Virgil expected Logan to want to adopt him. For one thing, Virgil had parents. For another, Logan had never once shown even a remote interest in having a hand in the responsibility of keeping another, living, breathing being alive.

Virgil knew that. He prompted Logan once about it-- because Virgil at his core was a fucking masochist who needed to have his heart ripped out and stomped on sometimes just to prove he knew what life was like. There had been some stupid math homework that he had guilted Logan into helping him with during Logan’s lunch break (like the man wanted to be doing calculus while out eating-- he was a fucking accountant; he already did this all day for his job), and the problem had involved dogs, so Virgil had made up some stupid idiotic story about once owning a dog just to see if maybe Logan might have like a hundred dogs at home and oh yeah, what difference is a child compared to that, right? At least, you know how to feed yourself and can be trusted outside without a leash, sure I’ll take you in, Virgil! Do you want to call me Dad?

Yeah. And somehow Virgil was still failing his creative writing class-- he didn’t understand it either.

Logan didn’t have dogs at home. Or cats. Virgil was pretty sure he didn’t even have dust bunnies. 

And Virgil of all people knew what type of burden children could be. You had to give them time and money and entertainment and if you didn’t then everyone would call you a terrible person! Once you had a kid, you really never had time to yourself to do things you liked to do because a kid was always in the way! How many times had Virgil’s mother reminded him that he was preventing her from enjoying her weekend after she spent all week working her tireless jobs and making him food and keeping the house? How many times had his father answered the door and started swearing because he forgot it was his week and he invited his girlfriend over and she didn’t know Virgil existed so Virgil was either going to spend the whole night in his room pretending to be a piece of furniture or his dad was going to have to cancel? 

Virgil was a commitment! He knew it! He was another mouth to feed, his growth spurts just kept happening--he’ll never forget the fury on his mother’s face when she found out he outgrew the shoes she got him for Christmas by late January-- not to mention school fees. School lunch? More like School sit-in-the-library-and-tell-the-librarians-he’s-just-not-hungry. His personal finance class was his own living nightmare because he got to listen to every other kid in the entire class complain about how dumb it is that everything cost money, like bread hadn't always cost at least three dollars. There was a girl named Sally who told the teacher that she’d just show her boobs to the checkout clerk to get it for free so that she could keep up with her fictional mani pedi appointment, after the teacher told her she couldn’t just call her dad and ask for more money.

Virgil scored a perfect A on that assignment, if anyone was wondering. The teacher pulled him back after class to ask him if he was interested in going to a seminar outside of class time for the Next Business Owners of America(™) since he was meticulous with his number crunching. Virgil would have loved to, if it hadn’t been three hours away, pay-for-your-own-food, and hey, how about you bring your parents along? I’d love to meet them and let them know what a great son they’re raising! 

Virgil had said he wasn’t interested. His teacher had insisted he’d take a flyer anyway, and now it was stuffed in the bottom of his backpack like a forty ton weight he was lugging around everywhere just to see if it really did get heavier as the day in question approached. 

((There was still a week left for reservations. There was still a week left for reservations and Virgil was still very certain that if he did go and he didn’t tell his parents, neither of them would notice he’d gone missing and they would never remember him again and then where would he be?))

So yeah, Virgil was a commitment. Any child was a commitment. Basically a blackhole of money. Any self respecting, successful adult could probably take one look at him and think setting a couple hundred dollar bills on fire is less expensive and more eco friendly than trying to take in a teenager. 

Logan probably had thought that, too. Virgil wouldn’t blame him for that. 

He just… expected it to hurt a little less. But well. Logan had always been straightforward and it doesn’t get more straightforward than “HE IS NOT AND WON'T EVER BE OUR CHILD”.

Virgil liked that Logan was straightforward. He didn’t have to guess through passive aggressive comments or backhanded compliments to figure out what was being said when Logan was talking.

And really it hadn’t even been anything new being said there. Virgil got to stand there and not cry and very calmly ask Logan and Remus to step outside because they were upsetting the other patrons. Yep totally. Just the other patrons. Not Virgil because Virgil had never been their kid and he had his own parents and there were other kids with less who needed more and he hadn’t been going to mention the flyer or seminar to Logan so it didn’t even feel like the kick to the teeth that it should have been.

But if Virgil’s manager was going to give him a paid break to go stand outside and with a free soda and some mango sticky rice the man made him specifically, then Virgil was going to take it and enjoy it and definitely not cry or text Janus about. In fact he took it and he sat out back and wondered how on earth Remus landed a guy like Logan. 

Because Logan was cool. He was smart, pleasant and polite and patient and other words that started with “P”. Virgil had seen Remus a handful of times-- just the few that he’d been desperate enough to get out of his mother’s house but didn’t have money for food-- but those times had been enough for Virgil to get a very super good fucking grasp on who Remus Prince was.

He was loud to Logan’s calm, eye-catching to Logan’s plainness, obnoxious to Logan’s civility. Even when Virgil had watched them walk in together, hands together, ring present it felt like someone grabbed the rug from under him and tugged.

Because-- and Virgil meant this from the bottom of his heart-- Remus was a fucking nightmare demon from hell. There were a lot of people who scared Virgil to no end, but Remus? Remus was on a whole other level. 

 Remus was The Adult(™) that Virgil avoided like the plague, that Virgil memorized the schedule for when he would be at the food kitchen for, that Virgil laid awake at night running scenarios about because Remus would be the only stupid asshole brave enough to blatantly ask The Question. 

Because Remus remembered Virgil’s face, remembered what he looked like, what he wore, and where he liked to sit away from everyone else. Remus remembered Virgil like he wanted to when not even Virgil’s parents wanted to remember him. 

Because there wasn’t a shadow dark enough for Virgil to hide in that would keep Remus from seeing him, and Virgil didn’t know a single thing that could keep him from asking hey, is everything okay at home?

No it’s not. Thanks for asking. And hey, I know you’re a mandatory reporter, so pretty please don’t call social services because Virgil cannot think of anything worse than being picked up out of everything he’d struggled to build here and plopped into the hands of someone who would insist they knew how to live his life better. 

He didn’t want a family that would see him as just another meal ticket: free money from the government to take in the kid who was too anxious to sleep at night sometimes. Even thinking about the bad families-- the die hard religious people who would call him a sin if they knew he was gay, the abusers that might see him as a free punching back that spit out money sometimes, the too-nice,-but too-many-other-kids-to-worry-about-him couple that might only take him in out of guilt and pity-- made Virgil’s heart beat so hard he could barely breathe.

But what was worse was thinking about the good families. You know, the ones that most of the kids at school went home to? A mother who would insist that he wear brighter colors and eat all his vegetables and join every after school program because it looked good on a resume? A father who would insist that he apply to Harvard and Yale and take summer internships across the country or do hard labor outside because it built character? The ones who would say to him hey, you don’t need that job anymore so just go ahead and quit and we’ll supply everything you could possibly want and you better hope you don’t disappoint us like your first set of parents because then we’ll have the power to take it all away!

Logan… Logan was a safe daydream, okay? He was just a quiet guy who came in for Thai sometimes and ate by himself, tipped nicely, and didn’t try to send his food back because it was “too orange”. He was reasonable and knew when to stop asking questions and he probably wouldn’t care if Virgil kept his job and or if he kept wearing black and didn’t try to apply to schools that would probably eat him alive. Logan smiled at him, and helped with Virgil’s homework, and maybe if Logan hadn’t wanted to be the center of Virgil’s very pitiful stupid, secret wishes, he shouldn’t have been the first person to tell Virgil “good job” since Virgil had been eight. 

“Fuck,” Virgil said, shoving another spoonful of mango rice into his mouth.

“Oh, please, do keep catastrophizing in my front seat,” Janus said in his stupid ass rich person tone. “I’m certain that will solve all your problems.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Virgil snapped back at him.

Janus stretched back in the driver's seat, hands above his head, folded neatly with those black biker gloves on still, and his shirt riding up his stomach in the way that makes Virgil kinda hate him. He had his eyes closed for the most part of it all; still content to sunbathe in the front seat as he had been doing for the better part of an hour now, but he opened the right just to side eye Virgil in that unbothered way of his that speaks to how amusing he found watching Virgil self destruct to be.

“Darling--” He said.

“Don’t,” Virgil jabbed his plastic spoon towards him threateningly. “Don’t start with me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Janus said. “Only merely ending what has been a truly delightful date with my very wonderful boyfriend who is certainly not-at-all distracted by a problem he has made up in his beautiful amazing brain.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ve known Logan since I was in diapers, Virgil,” Janus says. “He’s almost like a second father to me. You are worrying over nothing.”

“It’s not nothing!” Virgil said shrilly.

And that is when Janus finally dropped his arms back down and twisted to face Virgil completely. His eyes, which normally were filled with mischief and spite, were floating with a sincerity that made Virgil’s stomach do flips. The freckles on his face were just barely noticeable, the shine of his lipgloss still freshly applied and waiting to be ruined. His dark hair was highlighted with gold stripes, which Virgil knew from experience looked very dashing when hands were run though it.

“Virgil,” Janus said, soft and kind and knowing. “My own father wouldn’t hesitate if you asked him. And you know that there would be a room in my house painted purple with your own kitchen and fridge by three hours after you asked him.”

“Your father plays mind games,” Virgil said weakly.

“Are you still obsessed with the swear jar?” 

“I’m not obsessed!” Virgil shot back. “It freaks me out, okay? The whole swear jar being a place that you both put money so that you have funds to pay for something if you didn’t want him knowing you were paying for? That’s like John Kramer levels of jigsaw puzzles. I can’t handle that on a daily basis! My heart would just fucking stop!”

“My father does not have any intentions of testing your will to live,” Janus said flatly. “Or whatever it is that happens in the Saw movies. He runs a company that’s sole goal is to make lives easier and more affordable. When he turns fifty he plans on giving the whole company to me, and then I will wait exactly one week before selling half the shares to you for a dollar and then you can handle all the gross business stuff and I will handle the very funny human complaints.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually,” Janus said. “He has it written in his main diary that’s stashed behind the headboard that he’s going to give it to me when he’s sixty, but the secret one he doesn’t think I’ve found yet that is stashed in the false wall behind the washer says fifty. Also the second secret one in the false bottom puzzle box drawer in his office says fifty too.”

Virgil stared at him, waiting a whole beat, but Janus merely raised an eyebrow.

“You understand that’s not normal shit, right?” Virgil asked him. “You understand that your father and you are the most insane people I’ve met, right? Why does he have three diaries? Why are two of them secret? Why do you know there are two secret ones?” 

Janus frowned. “There’s three, but the third one is just all about how much he loves me and his billions of lists of things to get for me for my birthday every year. Sometimes I add ridiculous stuff to the list in his handwriting to see if he’ll get me it. That’s how I got my snake.”

“Unbelievable,” Virgil said, staring at him. Part of him was utterly terrified of Janus, of how casually he could say things like that, of how Virgil is pretty sure Janus had the means and the ability to hide his body if Janus decided one day Virgil was annoying him too much, but the larger part of him is just overwhelmed with an embarrassing amount of awe and love. 

Something about that must have shown on his face because Janus’s eyes melted like ice cream and his lips curled into a smile that could have coaxed flowers to bloom if their car was parked in a meadow instead of a parking garage. 

“I love you too,” Janus said. “Now will you please go into the building and blackmail Logan into being your pretend dad so I can have all my boyfriend’s attention during our dates?”

“Asshole,” Virgil said, leaning over the center console to catch him in a kiss.

Janus hummed enthusiastically, as if he’d been waiting for Virgil to do that all day. Virgil did his best to not roll his eyes.

Janus pulled back first, licking his lips as if to make sure the last of his cherry lip gloss had been cleaned up so that he could apply another coat once Virgil was out of his sight, and finding it satisfactory. “I’m going to eat the rest of your mango rice.”

Virgil handed him the little container, half eaten and not enjoyed quite as much as it should have been due to impending doom. Janus, who was rich enough to have his own plastic spoon, still used Virgil’s. Virgil grabbed the handle of the plastic bag for the other two carry out containers and pulled it into his lap.

“I’m going to get arrested.”

Janus waved a hand. “Get out of my car, Virgil. You can mope when you get back.”

“Pay my bail?”

Janus smiled at him, soft and sunny and causing all the sickening, disgusting butterflies in his stomach to flutter around. Virgil wasn’t sure why, considering he’d also watched Janus eat pavement at the skateboarding park once late at night, and then cry like a baby about it, and then demand that Virgil tell no one about it.

“Always,” Janus said, like he meant it, like he was making a promise, like he loved Virgil and wanted what was best for him even when Virgil didn’t have a single thing to give him in return.

He didn’t realize that he had a stupid smile on his face until he was ten feet from the car holding the bag of take out to his chest like some middle schooler who just got asked out by her crush. He swears at nothing, because of course Janus could draw this sort of reaction out of him over fucking bail money, what the hell. There was nothing romantic about bail money. There wasn’t anything romantic about Janus.

The same way there wasn’t anything nerve wracking about Patton Hart, or terrifying about Remus Prince, or fatherly about Logan Ackroyd.

He nearly tripped and face planted trying to walk into the lobby. His shoe caught on the tile floor and his balance went sideways and his heart jumped out of his throat into his mouth and nearly onto the floor with the mango rice he had just eaten.

There were about ten people wondering in the lobby, doing various tasks: three people in business suits discussing lunch plans, a janitor mopping up an area with cautious signs around it, two people waiting for one of the three elevators, two people at the front desk and a receptionist who was talking to a delivery man from a pizza place across town. And Virgil was pretty sure all of them saw him almost lay himself out on the floor.

It was fine. It was totally fine! If they asked what was wrong with him he would say something like Oh I haven’t possessed a human in at least a century or You guys didn’t see that rat? It was huge! or my plan was to lie my way up to the upper floors but I figured that I might as well give up and let you arrest me now. Do you want to call security or just hand me the phone and I’ll do it myself?

He hesitated on his feet for a moment, wondering if he could get away with going straight into the elevators even though he knows they require a keycard. Janus told him that much in their run throughs while preparing for this. But still the fluttering hopeful part of him was wishing that security risks weren’t a thing and he could just… walk upstairs.

Instead he steeled himself and headed in a direct line towards the receptionist’s desk. All he had to do was convince her to give him a visitor’s badge and let him go upstairs without calling either Logan or Remus who would definitely tell her they don’t have a son.

He was honestly already so lucky they hadn’t announced to the whole building via company-wide email that they didn’t have a child at all. Although the longer he hesitated the more of a chance there was that one or both of them were writing that email right now.

The receptionist nodded to him when he stalled his walk a few paces away from the desk, but continued her discussion with the delivery man. Instead the man and the woman lingering to the side had their eyes on him, watching with opening curious expressions that made Virgil want to hiss at them the way he hissed at the workers in the food bank-kitchen that he visited on weeks when his mother couldn’t be bothered to keep food in the house or his father had forgotten to leave him enough money to buy himself a pizza while he went out on another date.

You know. Before Remus had hissed right back at him and Virgil had realized oh shit, that guy remembered him and this was going to be a problem. 

“Watcha doing here, kid?” the guy at the desk asked, taking a sip of his coffee. He was closer than the woman, with a crooked tie and a salt-and-pepper beard that made him look old instead of distinguished or whatever he was trying for.

“I’m looking for my dads,” Virgil said and holy shit this was a bad decision. “Lo-Logan Ackroyd, and Remus P-Prince.” He swallowed nervously, digging his fingers into the boxes of take out and trying hard not to let his spine fold like a chocolate éclair. 

The man chokes, nearly spitting up his coffee all over his tie. “No way! You’re the kid?”

“Jeff!” The lady with the frizzy hair hissed.

“What!” Jeff exclaimed. “You heard what Logan said!” The man turned back to Virgil and Virgil forced himself not to take a step back or sprint for Janus’s car or melt into a puddle of human goo or start crying. “Man, that guy really is an unfeeling robot. How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

“Jeff!” The woman yelled. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; don’t mind him.”

“I’m seventeen?” Virgil said. “And it’s.. uh.” He swallowed, glancing at the receptionist who still looked to be deep in the conversation with the delivery man. “It’s-- it’s okay. I know what it sounded like yesterday. It wasn’t exactly… uh… Logan and Remus aren’t my parents!” 

The man and the woman were looking at him now, with twin gazes just short of being hungry. Virgil felt distinctly like he’d just jumped into a lake full of piranhas and kindly asked them not to eat him alive, please and thanks. He took a deep breath, trying to untense his shoulders.

What had Janus said? It was like tearing off a bandaid? 

“I’m adopted! But my parents, like the real ones, are still around. They just don’t have custody, you know? Logan and Remus do, because they are good people! Totally good people who probab--I mean definitely haven’t committed unspeakable crimes or anything of the like that could be proven in the court of law! But like yesterday, haha, I mean things haven’t always been easy because like, I’m kinda difficult and I don’t call them dad or anything because I have a dad already who is not Logan and I told Logan I didn’t want to call him dad and so he doesn’t really call me son and definitely not his son, you know? He really didn’t mean it like how it sounded because he’s cool and haha, yeah isn’t that like a horrible coincidence that it sounded bad? But he’s-- Logan I mean-- is really good! Really nice and helps me with my math homework. A really, uhm. He’s a good guy. You know?” 

The receptionist was looking at him now, too. And so was the delivery man, their conversation entirely forgotten.

Virgil swallowed like he was drowning, wishing that he could shut up because there was no way these all competent adults were going to buy that horrible, terrible story that wasn’t even really a story as much as just a bunch of gibberish tossed out with Logan’s name in it. It was like he hadn’t even practiced with Janus at all. He barely even got a foot in the door before he just started talking! Did these people even know Logan? Or did he just spit out a fake life story to some random people in the company lobby and would absolutely never be able to show his face here again? 

“On second thought, I’ll just go,” Virgil rasped out, and turned on his heel, preparing to bolt for the doors before security could be called for the random kid who just tried to buy his way into a company HQ building with cold Thai food and a fake story about fake parents who would never even want to consider being real parents. Would they charge him with espionage for that? Could they? Is there even bail for espionage accounts?!

“Oh no no no!” The woman exclaimed suddenly, putting her coffee directly on the receptionist counter. “Oh honey, I am so sorry! Of course Logan is a good da-fathe-- I mean a good guardian! Jeff and I didn’t mean to make you think we didn’t know that!”

“Did I say unfeeling?” The man said, laughing nervously and tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I meant unrelenting! An unrelenting robot who has nothing but… love… in his…uh heart. Hey, do you think that maybe you could not bring up this conversation to him? I like my job.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe. Like actually could fucking not. He was going to have to sit down because there was no way that should have worked at all. The woman and the man were doing a piss-poor job of having a subtle conversation under their breaths about which of them was going to get fired as if Virgil actually did have sway with Logan and Remus. The relief was so overwhelming it was terrifying.

Shit, is this what Janus felt every time he made up a lie? If so, Virgil might be able to understand it. He doubted straight ecstasy would come close to this feeling. 

The take out boxes creaked in his sweaty, clammy hands as the woman turned back towards Virgil with a too-bright, too-wide smile, that reminded him of his mother when she was on the phone with his teachers who called to let her know that he was failing the class: placating and fake and screaming that she completely believed him and was not even going to bother asking for the other parties side of the story.

“Why don’t we get you upstairs, honey?” she said. “Candy will get you your own personal badge and then you won’t even have to stop around here and talk to us silly old people. Candy?”

“Uh, yeah,” The receptionist said. “I’ll get it to Mr. Ackroyd by the end of the day tomorrow.”

The other woman smiled at him and started guiding him towards the elevators, her badge dangling in her hand. “I’m sure your dads are expecting you, right?”

“It’s a uh…surprise, actually,” Virgil stuttered. “Big surprise.”

“Oh that’s lovely! What a thoughtful son!”

Yep, Virgil thought, swallowing back the urge to vomit all over her knockoff Christian Louboutin pumps (and the fact that Virgil knew they’re knockoffs is equally nauseating, damnit Janus). The thought, though, just for that moment, gave Virgil something to focus on (Janus’s stupid face, the taste of his lipgloss, “I’ll pay your bail.”). He clung to his take out boxes, and stood at least three feet away from the woman, and tried not to feel like he just entered the elevator to hell when the doors slowly rolled shut.

The woman might be talking to him, chatting with her pleasant and polite voice that does nothing to actually put Virgil at ease. Janus probably would be in his fucking element right here, probably soften her up further with a few on-the-spot made up stories that make him out to be a humble yet high achieving son (only half lies: Janus was high achieving, but the day he acted humble about anything would be the day that Virgil did stand up comedy for the whole school during his lunch block). Still that sort of thing would make Logan and Remus look really good, right? 

Virgil should be saying something. He should tell her that he loves his parents and that they are the perfect family and Logan and Remus don’t have a 90% chance of responding “who?” when this woman tries to say he’s their son. He shouldn’t be standing ramrod still in the elevator, holding take out food so close to himself it might look as if he’s trying to wear it, or breathing so loud that people in the lobby could still hear him, what the fuck is wrong with him--

“Hey hun,” the woman said. “I don’t think I caught your name, now. What was that again?”

Virgil swallowed hard, forcing his tongue to unstick from the roof of his mouth. “Uh… Virgil. My name is Virgil.”

Why did that sound like he was making it up? That wasn’t even a lie! His name was Virgil! Unless it wasn’t? Would he have even known if Virgil wasn’t the name his parents-- real parents-- had given him?

“Virgil,” she repeated pleasantly. “That’s a wonderful name.”

“Yep, it’s mine. Totally mine. Why wouldn’t it be mine?” 

Her eyebrows creased in confusion and Virgil debated slamming his head against the reflective metal doors. Before he could get to the part where he follows through on that one, the elevator diiiiinged! And the floor settled to a stop. 

“Oh wonderful,” the woman said. “Now would you like to visit Remus first or Logan? Logan has his own office but Remus has a cubical nearby if you want.”

Virgil honestly hadn’t thought he would get this far. He’d been half convinced that Remus would just be… in the lobby, ready to discount his lies, or Logan would be in the parking lot ready to ask him who exactly he was because surely a random restaurant worker wasn’t worth remembering, or Janus would be telling him that he was an idiot and embarrassing and why are we even dating again? 

He opened his mouth but no words were coming out, certainly not ones that would make any of this better than the dumpster fire it was already.

“Jen,” A voice said from nearby. Virgil almost jumped right out of his skin, but it turned out just to be another worker in the office: dyed orange hair and an infinity scarf and hiding behind a stack of files almost as tall as they were. They were looking at Virgil though with a nervous expression as if they thought Virgil was the herald of the workplace firing squad or the next round of interns that would eventually take their job. “Uh, who is your… uhm…?”

“Quin,” the woman said warmly, as if she had been just as put off by Virgil’s lack of response as he himself had been. “This is Virgil. You know, Remus and Logan’s son that they talk about all the time? He brought them a surprise lunch! Isn’t that sweet?”

Ah fuck, they talk about having a son?! Did Logan and Remus actually have a son?! Did Janus just forget to tell him about that?! 

Janus, what the fuck?!

The new person’s eyes widened as they took in Virgil’s appearance, which was very much out of place in the entire building. He’d worn his jeans with the least amount of holes in them but his only pair of shoes at the moment were these converse and he’d scribbled black sharpie on them out of boredom in his history class last year. He didn’t exactly look anything like someone who lived with Logan might, considering Virgil had never seen Logan not wearing a business suit, but this was the best outfit he could come up with from his closet.

“Uh yeah, totally. Uhm.” The person said nervously and then leaned in close to the woman and whispered, as if Virgil wouldn’t be able to hear them at all, “Uh, didn’t Logan…uhm… say….?”

The woman laughed painfully in a way that made Virgil wonder what exactly they had all done when under the impression that Logan was an asshole who didn’t love his son (a son he didn’t have because Virgil was not his son and even if Virgil was he wouldn’t blame Logan for not wanting him).

 “Oh it was just a misunderstanding! Virgil told Jeff and I about it downstairs. We can have lunch together today and I’ll tell you all about it!”

Virgil frowned slightly, because well… he didn’t exactly mind that people would be talking about it-- that was part of the whole plan anyway, to have people talk about-- but something in him was insulted that it would be shared so blaise. Like, didn’t his homelife situation feel even an ounce personal or private? This woman was just going… to talk about him… and Logan… and Remus…and their private, totally real family business over lunch like she knew everything about it and had the right and authority to disclose that information?

For a second, Virgil was half tempted to tell her that he was also royalty of a distance country and that it was super secret because there were people who would kill to know his whereabouts and they could be anyone, ma’am, and they could be anywhere and now that you know they’ll definitely come after you too. Did you know the last person whom I told, went missing within ten hours and the police are still finding body parts of them around the city?… Anyway, have fun sleeping tonight. Fucker.

“Quin!” A familiar voice yelled from around the corner, causing the person in front of Virgil to leap into the air almost a whole foot. The files they were carrying nearly took flight, but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to worry about them when he was busy watching a rolling chair skid out from a cubicle and bring him face-to-face with Remus Prince.

If hearing Logan say Virgil would never been his son was bad on Virgil, it looked like it had been absolute hell on Remus: the guy didn’t really advertise mental stability on a regular day, but now there were bags under his eyes, what looked like an actual rats nest in his hair, and his shirt was on both backwards and stained that spoke either of having never known what a washing machine was or he killed someone in his cubicle. 

Whatever had gone down after Virgil (calmly, not crying, not hurt) asked them to leave must have been bad, if it got the guy who barely knew him to look like he’d been playing matador to eighteen wheelers on the highway.

Virgil knew the exact moment that Remus recognized (remembered, knew) him, too, even though his stupid monkey instinct brain had been shrieking that if he stood still Remus wouldn’t have been able to see him at all. 

“Virgil,” Remus said, running a hand through his hair as if to pluck out whatever creature was in it and offer it to him as a greeting. His eyes darted towards the other adults around him with curiosity, as he stood up and kicked his chair behind him back into a cubicle. “What…are ya doing here, kid?”

“Uh, lunch?” Virgil says, surprisingly calm for someone whose brain was nothing but static and swears and scream-sobbing.

Remus stared at the bag in Virgil’s hands, and then up at him and then back at the bag. Virgil wondered for a moment if he had mixed up the plastic bags in Janus’s cars, accidentally grabbing the bag of live, feral squirrels instead of the takeout.

 “Lunch,” Remus echoed. “For me?”

Virgil didn’t blame him for being suspicious. Virgil had never come close to acting comfortable in Remus’s presence and he knew it. Remus took whatever Virgil threw at him (hisses, sharp barbed words, the worst soda combinations Virgil could think of) and acted complete unphased, like Virgil was acting normal, like there was nothing wrong with him, like he enjoyed Virgil’s weird attempts at scaring him off.

Virgil took a deep breath and then set his jaw. “Yeah. You. And Logan. Like a family lunch. You. Me. Logan. I thought it would be nice. To talk. And stuff. As a family.”

“Family!” Another other woman from the cubicle behind Remus squealed. And then seemed to realize the attention had landed on her. “Oh sorry! Just pretend I’m not here!”

“Gladly,” Virgil said. He swore he saw Remus’s lips flicker into a wicked grin at the sound, but it was gone in another moment. Fast enough to give whiplash and remind Virgil why exactly Remus was nearly as terrifying as Patton Hart in terms of mind-fuckery shenanigans. 

“Anyway,” Virgil said, forcing himself to look at Remus in the eye and challenging him to cut in. “I know that Lo was beating himself up about everything that happened, even though I told him it was… fine and that we talked everything out last night. I was worried about what your coworkers might be saying, even though it's none of their business, and you guys are really fucking good parents.”

Remus smiled, and then he laughed, and part of Virgil thought that he was definitely calling Virgil’s bluff and security at the same time. But instead the man reached out and ruffled Virgil’s hair the same way his real father hadn’t done in ten years. It was so jarring and sudden that Virgil just stood there and took it and definitely did not have to swallow back the sudden urge to cry.

“You are absolutely going to get me killed by Logan,” Remus said, low enough that it was probably just meant for Virgil. “Hey, LOGAN! DARLING, LOVE OF MY LIFE--!” 

A door down the narrow hall swung over, nearly so sharp that it dented the inner wall and Logan stuck his head out “Remus, I swear to Newton you better have--Virgil?”

The man jerked forward, although he looked a bit more like he would have loved to slam the door closed again. His glasses had fingerprints on the lenses, and his shirt was the same shade as yesterday, although it did look like someone washed and ironed it, unlike Remus. Whatever morning he had, was certainly not going well, if the scowl that had been on his face was anything to go by.

Still Virgil waved at him, like his hands weren’t shaking, his knees weren’t about to give out, and his stomach wasn’t about to relocate to the office building’s tile floor because rent was cheaper.

“I--” Logan ran a hand through his tie, nervously, although Virgil had never seen Logan nervous. He was confident, honest, brutal; but that made his compliments feel like nobel prizes when they were given out and his scathing remarks hurt all that much more. ((You are not our son and never will be.)) “Virgil, what are you doing here?” 

Remus was grinning, though, winking at Virgil as if there was a secret he didn’t know about happening. “Didn’t know you, Lo? Our son brought us lunch.”

Logan leveled him with a glare that Virgil was an extreme fan of. Something he saw Logan give a rude customer at the restaurant once and had ever since been trying to replicate because it was the perfect blend of you’re embarrassing yourself and I’d burn down your house with you in it if I had a lighter on me right now. 

And Remus didn’t even look a bit put off by it. It must have been a married couple thing. Or a Remus thing. Or a Remus-was-married-and-got-that-look-enough-to-build-up-an-immunity thing

“What did you do?” Logan asked his husband.

“Logan!” The woman from the lobby scolded. “I can’t believe you! Your wonderful, sweet son walked all the way here to bring you lunch and you--”

“Yeah, our totally sweet son!” Remus chimed in. “He just came in here. All by himself!”

Logan ignored them both, turning his clinical gaze on Virgil the same way the counselors of his previous schools would when his teachers informed them that he was “purposely” failing their classes. Straight and cutting and you are not my son and never will be and--

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your work,” Virgil said in a small voice. “I can come back another time. Or never. I just… I thought… you guys came to visit me yesterday and we never really got lunch so I brought you Pad Thai with tofu. And uhm…” Please. I could make a good son. You don’t even know me yet.

The women around him all took a sharp intake of breath, the person with the orange hair absolutely whimpered as if he’d stabbed them. 

“I just… wanted to spend time with you,” Virgil said. “To, uhm, talk.”

“Holy fuck, you’re ruthless,” Remus murmured under his breath, and it nearly felt like praise. He wasn’t exactly sure what the fuck he was being praised for, but he must have done something right. 

Logan’s face ran through emotions too fast for Virgil to catch them and classify them. His lungs were pounding against his ribs, trying to expand past what a normal human can breathe for, but then Logan’s eyes melted a fraction, and Virgil thought he could walk on air.

“Of course,” Logan said. “I-- of course, Virgil. Why… why don’t you and Remus come in here and we’ll have lunch.” 

Virgil didn’t sprint towards him, but he could understand if everyone else in the office made the mistake of thinking he did. He heard Remus say something about kids that made it sound like he was feeding into that whole Virgil-is-his-son thing further. However all Virgil could think was Logan, and Logan’s Office Away From People, and I didn’t think I was going to get this far did the elevator break and did it crash to the ground killing me on impact?

Remus closed the door behind himself, trapping Virgil in the office with the two adults. It looked a lot like… well… an office. There weren’t any pictures of Remus or anyone on the walls. There weren’t even knick knacks on the desk. Impersonal, kinda cold, uncomfortable, as if Logan didn’t want any distractions from his 9 to 5 day shift or simply did not like anything-- which Virgil knew wasn’t true because the man was married and once went on a rant about space when Virgil was serving him. There was an Excel sheet pulled up on the computer which it seemed  that Logan had been correcting before he’d been disturbed by Virgil’s… mess.

((There was a chair in the corner with a suit jacket tossed over it. It didn’t match the one Logan was wearing today.))

The room was silent for a whole second while all three of them listened to the people outside go back to whatever their jobs were. 

Then.

“Did you,” Remus started slowly, a light in his eyes that made Virgil’s knees threaten to give out. “Did you just spread the rumor that Logan and I are good parents?! That’s so ballsy, kid!”

Virgil wasn’t sure how much of his smile looked like a grimace. He held out the boxes of food to Logan and Remus. “I am, uh, blackmailing you. Both of you.”

“Blackmailing,” Logan echoed, as Remus grabbed his shoulder and shook them both at a frequency that probably wasn’t safe for humans to be shaken at. “I think I need to sit down. This is not....”

“Oh my god,” Remus whispered. “Holy mother of Culthulu on a butt fucking stick! He’s playing The Game!” 

“Game?” Virgil repeated, trying to reign in all the terror welding in his throat that honestly he was surprised hadn’t straight up killed him already. “Uh no-- I don’t-- Look, it’s really simple! I just need Logan to pretend to be my dad for a day. Like shake hands with my teacher, tell him everything is a-okay at home, and then we don’t ever have to speak about it again! Or speak to each other again! Unless you need your coworkers to think you’re a decent person-- not saying that you aren’t! Because I know you both are! Obviously! Because I wouldn’t agree to a three hour car ride with murderers-- did I even say it was a three hour car ride? Oh fuck I’m sorry, this was stupid--”

“Is there a reason things are not… “a-okay” at home?” Logan said, just short of sounding strangled.

Luckily before Virgil could start sobbing Remus threw a hand over Logan’s mouth and leaned forward. “The kid wants you to play parent, Lolo! Stop thinking so much!”

Logan batted his hand away. “Why me? Why not Remus? Or your actual parents?” Logan asked. “Why… me?”

Virgil wilted back despite his best efforts, already feeling his face do that stupid thing where it heats up beyond humiliation and his entire soul craves spontaneous combustion. “Please don’t make me say it.”

But Logan and Remus apparently couldn’t read minds (fuckkkkk) and just continued to stare at him in baffled confusion. Virgil curled his hands into fists and forced himself to stare at the wall behind Logan’s head and state, out loud, for everyone to hear, “You’re cool.”

“Cool,” Logan echoed. “I’m cool. I’m so cool that you think that makes up for the fact that--”

“Look, my actual parents would be excited if they found out a serial killer grabbed me off the street,” Virgil blurted out. “Remus freaks me the fuck out-- no offense, or actually a lot of offense, please stop grinning at me like that-- and you’re cool, don’t ask me to do anything stupid, never told me I was stupid for not understanding calc-- fuck calc-- so yeah you’re at the top of my adults I trust list right now and I just need someone to be my parent for one day so I can go to this seminar that I really want to go to about business finances management. After that you can tell your coworkers whatever the fuck you guys want from me! Tell them I died! I don’t care! I just… please. Just for ten hours. I’ll find a way to pay for gas, food, and housing so you won’t have to spend a dime!”

“Absolutely not--”

“Please!” Virgil said.

“You’re not paying for it!” Logan said. He shoved his glasses up to his hairline and massaged the bridge of his nose and Virgil’s heart stopped in his chest, leaving him as frozen as a statue.

Remus leaned back against Logan’s desk, far too casual. “So….you’re going?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Virgil didn’t often subscribe to the idea that hope felt like a fluttery thing, but goddamnit did hope feel like a moth with a broken wing struggling to find some way through a glass window pane. He felt like he was going to be sick; he felt like he was going to pass out. 

Logan placed a hand on his desk to steady himself. “...where… is this event.”

“YES!” Virgil couldn’t help himself. Luckily, Remus and Logan didn’t look too bothered by his outburst. He dug the crumpled folded flyer from his pocket and smoothed it out for Logan to look at, which he accepted easily, already scanning the red, green, and blue writing with a critical eye. 

Virgil knew he was grinning stupidly-- like more stupid than when he watched Janus trip on the sidewalk or answer a question with an abundance of confidence just to be wrong-- but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and turned halfway, to find that Remus was picking through the takeout boxes, and watching him.

“Uh,” Virgil said, smile dropping. “Sorry. That I’ll be stealing your husband for a day. Is… is that okay? Do you guys need to talk about that?”

Remus snorted. “Yeah so, funny story: Logan and I aren’t actually--”

“--in need of discussing it,” Logan cut in, suddenly talking over Remus without looking up from the flyer, or his phone where he was googling something. “I seem to recall a conversation where…. What was it? Ah yes: Just because you let me put a ring on your hand does not mean that either of us controls the other.”

“Oh my god, were you guys actually going to have a divorce?” Virgil blurted out. “Oh shit, did I just make this worse?”

“No,” Remus and Logan said at the same time, in such an agreement that it startled both of them and Virgil raised his hands in a placating move.

“No, kid,” Remus said. “Logan and I just need to have a… conversation.”

“More than one,” Logan added.

“About what we want out of…this.”

“Yes. This.”

Virgil glanced between them. “You guys are acting weird and I don’t like it.”

“Virgil, I am concerned about the statement you made about your parents not caring if a serial killer killed you,” Logan said. “Please, elaborate.”

“It’s not important,” Virgil said automatically. “Really. I think whatever the two of you have going on is far more detail worthy--”

“I also would like you to know that I will not be starting any rumors about you having died, especially not to my coworkers. Remus?”

“The game is not fun when people are getting hurt,” Remus… agreed? Virgil wasn’t sure exactly what was going on. “So, for the foreseeable future you are going to be our son, which is technically providing a service, wouldn’t you agree, Lo?”

“Yes. Providing a service requires a payment. How does thirty dollars an hour sound?”

“What the fuck,” Virgil said. “Wait--”

“This event is an all day affair, which means both of us will be too tired to do any driving afterwards, so that means a hotel,” Logan continued. “Remus, I assumed that you would like to join? Excellent. I’ll have Patton approve your days off. Two bedrooms. Virgil, you mentioned you like to sleep in so I assume a check out around noon the following day, plus a three hour drive back here, would make a total of…. Around twenty seven hours. Which comes out to a total of eight hundred ten dollars. Does that sound adequate?”

Virgil looked at Remus. “I think I made a mistake.”

Remus laughed at him. “I think we should round it to an even thousand.”

“No!” Virgil shrieked. “That was not a solution!”

“Face it, kid. You just won yourself two sugar daddies in one go.” 

“Stop talking!” Virgil said. “You are not going to pay me to be your son on a trip that I am blackmailing you into going on!”

“Sure we are,” Remus said, talking through a mouth of food. “Gotta make up for all the birthdays we missed for our son.”

Virgil thought he was going to melt into the floor. But uh, it was nice? Kinda? Logan was definitely holding a piece of a smile on his normally stoic face and Remus was almost chill and they had been in this room together for a whole five minutes and nothing had exploded and neither of them had tried to kill him for pretending to be their son or otherwise revealed that they were insanely evil. 

So, yeah. When Virgil saw them in the restaurant he didn’t think he was going to actually get adopted, but well…Virgil was tentatively hopeful for how this might turn out.

(Part 6)

[prophxtslash]

this is a request from a03 so might as well post it here too ig 🥱 request: Can I request killer!reader x leon? Cute fluff, smut, anything? I love the dynamic sm. Maybe even a male reader :(

The fire crackles in the near distance, the orange casting a soft glow to the surrounding campground as you watch, your form pressed against a tree, the bark scraping against your fingertips. This setting is uncomfortable, different; the silence is almost too much, your ears already well adjusted to the screams and cries of your prey. But now, with the never ending night surrounding your immediate area, you’re uncertain what to do with yourself, where to go from here. 

And so, you watch, your eyes tracing the sparks that dance upwards, a slight impatience twitching underneath your skin. Where is he?

Your patience is rewarded, as your favorite emerges from the fog, his bangs hanging in his eyes as he drags himself over to one of the logs, kneeling behind before pressing a hand against the stump. His form is slumped, tired, and yet, he remains upright, one knee to the ground and the other bent as to be ready, as to be vigilant. 

It’s a trait that caught your eye, that piqued your interest. Most survivors are merely shells, merely bodies that have no other choice but to stay alive. Not your favorite though. No, this man is strong, protective – he keeps himself awake, keeps himself alive for others.

He’s alone this time, and as such, you peek out from the tree a ways, your gaze heavy upon his frame. You’re accustomed to this practice, accustomed to observing. It’s something you’re familiar with, something you almost find comfort in. 

And even so, you’ve never known what to do upon being discovered. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” Your boy calls out, his posture straightened and turned towards your direction, his jaw set. You freeze, your fingers clawing into the bark, as to ground you. Your mind races to think of an escape, to think of a way to to get away from here, back to the safety of a fellow killer’s realm. 

Your silence answers for you, as the man rises to his feet, fully facing towards your general area. “Are you new here?”

Immediately, the lie comes to your lips. “...yes.”

Your voice comes out slow, harsh; you can’t remember the last time you’ve talked since coming here. 

The man smiles, his features softening ever so slightly. “I know you must be confused, but it’s going to be alright.” He takes a step towards you, and in a panic, you backtrack, a loud crunch of leaves resonating from beneath your heel. He stops immediately, an understanding look present on his face.

“That’s ok, I won’t come closer. You can stay where you are. You must be scared to death right now.”

A lump forms in your throat, but you don’t know why. “...yeah.”

“My name is Leon.” He places his hand to his chest, the palm flat against his vest. “Can you tell me your name?”

Your heartbeat quickens. Leon. Your favorite’s name is Leon. Despite the giddiness of learning his name, you manage to relay your own, your true name. It feels foreign, wrong on your tongue; this name is a memory, a ghost of who you had been before.

Leon repeats it, your ears heightening in on the pronunciation. A strange feeling bubbles within your chest. 

“It’s nice to meet you, and I’m sorry you’re here.”

Everything comes to a halt, comes to a full stop at Leon’s apology. You can’t remember the last time anyone has ever apologized to you; none of the other killers certainly haven’t. It’s strange, discomforting; why is he sorry? He is not at fault, not to blame for your being here. And yet, the sincerity in which he says it is too much, too much for you to deal with. 

You can’t say anything, can’t even choke out a response as tears flood your vision, a hiccup breaking through as you begin to cry, your hands wiping furiously at your face. You hear Leon take a few steps closer when a fog begins to form, rising upwards towards you.

“I’m scared.” You sob, your shoulders heaving as the fog draws in closer, “I don’t want to go.”

“I know.” Leon’s voice is strained, edged with pain, “You’re going to be alright. I’ll be there with you.”

His words are earnest and so, so genuine it makes you cry harder, ,makes the fog sting against your bloodshot eyes. You know he’ll be there but not as a team mate, nor a savior. Leon will be there as a victim, as prey, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.

The fog swallows you and you’re plunged into darkness.

[toastytrusty]

thinking about when alex skarsgård said in an interview that lukas gets bored and distracted easily and how he needs to be challenged to stay engaged with something and how that applies to romkas.. how roman and lukas are kinda polar opposites and lukas always pushes rome on the things he knows he struggles with but he would benefit from improving (Emotions and Family Stockholm Syndrome).. how this progresses from constantly prodding him about his feelings to casually suggesting he buy out waystar and roman be his buddy in seperating from logan to eventually not giving him any time between logan dying and meeting for the deal.. how he had to push more and more to get a response.. how when rome finally had a bit of emotional vulnerability with him (yelling at him about how he killed his dad) lukas got all big and smiley and in his space like he was proud of himself for winning . how their seperation past that could be seen as lukas completing his challenge and being satisfied with it and backing off. he's a man who has everything and roman was the only thing that entertained and engaged him. just think about that for a minute yk

[hyperfixated-homo]

its thinking about reverse!sides hours

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Language Barriers

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

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

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 3431

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

Physical Touch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

2. Quality Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

3. Words of Affirmation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

4. Acts of Service

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

5. Gifts

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

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

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

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

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

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

The other present was a box full of kittens.

”Ro?”

“Yeah?”

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

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

”Don’t realize.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

+1: I Love You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do they say?”

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

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

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

“‘Quality Time,’ yes.”

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

“Thomas doesn’t even speak Spanish!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well then who did?”

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

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

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

“Can I have the touch one?”

“Certainly.”

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

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

Nothing does.

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

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

“Because you guys do these with everyone!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s another pause.

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

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

“Can we cuddle?”

“Of course.”

“Will there be food?”

“Your favorite, shadow-ling.”

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

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

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

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

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[brookheimer]

ok prior to the finale my top three s4 episodes are easily connor’s wedding, america decides, and living+ (in that order probably). rounding out the top 5 would probably be kill list and rehearsal (altho i haven’t rewatched rehearsal so maybe not i just remember feeling fond of it lol)

[coffincoitus]

we should hold a meeting to discuss roman's relationship with sex before the show ends. I'm serious. I myself am open to repressed homosexuality and childhood sexual trauma-related depersonalizarion

[viviqueue]

There’s something so haunting about Kendall & how in many ways he has become crueler than his father. I think part of why Roman decided to get tossed around by protestors was primarily based on Kendall emotionally abusing him right before for his understandable breakdown after not properly grieving Logan’s death. Their dynamic always had a certain vulnerability to it that might be gone after that conversation. He’s already betrayed and been betrayed by Shiv, and will likely continue to break her down so that she knows her place in the sibling hierarchy. If Logan couldn’t hold a woman in his head, what does that mean for Kendall as it relates to his relationships with women? He tried to manipulate Jess into staying through verbal insults, he tried to emotionally manipulate Rava into staying for the funeral despite there being clear signs of civil unrest brewing. He has failed every woman in his life, and his relationships with men are strictly based in terms of dominance and manipulation. He may very well succeed and come out on top in the end, but who will he go to when he needs to be consoled?

I think for as abhorrent Logan was as a character, Ewan’s stories in my eyes puts him in a better light than Kendall when we consider the contexts they both grew up in. Logan’s cruelty was crafted in his lived experiences of being blamed for his sister’s death and the relentless abuse that came from it. That’s a kind of trauma that would take decades to fully unravel even with therapy, and the scars on his back were emblematic of his past always being in his the forefront of his consciousness. His abrasiveness and abuse can’t be waved off or justified, but asserting that he made these decisions of a sound mind is ignoring aspects of his characterization. I don��t think many people go through what Logan did and come out of it undamaged or even alive.

Kendall on the other hand grew up in luxury and was not primarily informed by trauma and physical abuse inflicted upon him. He has a sound enough mind to recognize things like fascism, homophobia, and misogyny, but makes conscious choices to support them when given the opportunity, even at the cost of everyone around him who might be impacted. He is choosing to ostracize himself from his loved ones in order to surpass his father because he is the most arrogant sibling and will not leave this world without claiming his birthright. And the most consistent thing about all these characters, but specifically with Kendall, is that their wins are always followed by crushing losses. With everything we know so far, I can’t guarantee that Kendall’s making it out alive as the story ends, at least not the one many people grew to love.

[whqreforstevengrant]

might delete this when i wake up but this was also some concept designs before my final choice.

picani was gonna be a huge anime nerd, Janus was gonna be punk along with Remus; pls ignore my unfinished patton Ngl i do like this remus outfit better so don’t be surprised if you see him change and Remy was gonna be an alt clown kinda person… i still like that RAHH i also might bring hard of hearing logan back?? bc WHY DID I GET RID OF IT?? (this is like two years ago oh my.)

[brothernasty]

okay I take it back actually. did not know they used the name of an actual Native American tribe for their throwaway snake cult. they never even say "tribe" or "nation" so that flew past me since I didn't recognize the name