#teacupfulofstarshine

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

BUT THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION OF ALL: CAN ROMAN ACTUALLY JUGGLE HOT COALS (also hello i love youuuuuu)

im not convince roman can juggle anything

[campbellsoupgansey]

CURRENT/FORMER SANDERS SIDES FANS!!!

I'm working on a Sanders Sides fandom retrospective video that covers the series + the state of the fandom, and I'd appreciate it if y'all filled out this survey! It asks about your personal experiences in the fandom, particularly surrounding the experiences of BIPOC, queer, and disabled fans. Even if you weren't in the fandom, please reblog for the biggest reach!

tagging popular creators/mutuals from back in the day: @connor-reblogs, @fanartfunart, @bleepblopbloop56, @teacupfulofstarshine, @warnadudenexttime, @romansleftshoulderpad, @fangirltothefullest

[ironwoman359]

Our Own Villain Ch. 9

Prologue, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10

Word Count: 5,570

Chapter Summary: Everything Roman has worked for threatens to crumble around him as Logan puts his plan to save his friends into motion.

Pairings: Logicality, could be read as romantic or platonic, platonic Moxiety

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, guilt, isolation and anger, overworking, fantasy violence, just generally unhealthy thought patterns going on for Roman.

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

AN: IT'S HERE! As always, I cannot post this story without acknowledging the incredible @theinvisiblespoon, who helped me edit this and resulted in over 400 extra words of flavor for this chapter. They're the absolute best! Also, shout out to @teacupfulofstarshine for helping me get over some writers block with a few of these passages, she's an absolute darling <3

— — —

“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

The captain of the guard bowed low before Roman, a faint tremor in his posture betraying his nerves.

“I’ve had my men up all night, searching the city from top to bottom,” the captain continued, “but there’s been no sign of the fugitive.” 

The man kept his head low, glancing tentatively up at Roman who paced back and forth across the floor of the throne room, arms crossed across his chest. He barely noticed the captain’s discomfort, lost entirely in thought. 

Where could Logan be? There was no way he could have left the Imagination, so how had the guards not found him yet? Roman supposed he could have snuck out of the city somehow, but there was nothing for him out there but wilderness, and it was cruel, even for Logan, to run away without even trying to rescue Patton and Virgil. No, he had to be hidden somewhere, somewhere that he thought was clever enough to escape Roman’s notice. 

“Keep searching, Captain,” he ordered. “He must be somewhere in the city. Perhaps he has enlisted the help of one of the townspeople and is being kept out of sight. Issue a decree that anyone found to be harboring criminals will face charges of treason. I want every-”

“Your Highness!” a new guard burst into the room, and Roman spun around with a glare. 

“What is it now? Are you men so utterly incompetent that you’re incapable of following the most simple of commands? I said that I was not to be disturbed!”

“It’s just, your highness,” the guard stammered, cowering in the face of Roman’s rage. “There’s an attack at the gates–” 

“What on earth makes you think I care about the gates right now?” Roman exclaimed. “There is a traitor loose in the city, corrupting the people and conspiring against me. Nothing at the gates could possibly be more important than finding–”

A roar pierced the air, and Roman went rigid, his hand automatically gripping the hilt of his sword. 

“Dragon Witch,” he hissed, and the guard nodded frantically. 

“She was spotted flying down from the mountains, your highness. The gate guard sent me to warn of her attack.” 

Roman slammed his fist down on the table. 

“Of course she would strike now, when we are distracted and unprepared. Captain, send criers through the streets to order your men to mobilize at the main gate. And bring me my armor! We must not let her take the city!” 

The soldiers scrambled from the room, and for a moment, Roman stood alone. After everything he’d done, everything he’d worked for, he now was faced with this. His oldest and strongest enemy, coming to challenge him when he was at his weakest. Did she think he would simply cave before her might? He was Roman, Prince of the Imagination, Thomas’s Hero, the last bastion of goodness left for the entire mindscape. He wouldn’t be overthrown by a mere construct. He laughed to himself. No one was around to hear it.

The next several minutes were a flurry of activity, and soon Roman was on his horse, his silver breastplate glinting in the first red rays of sunrise poking over the horizon as he cantered through the city streets.  

The thought of Logan somehow escaping the city during the battle briefly crossed his mind, but he pushed the idea away. They would find the logical side eventually; after all, there was nowhere for him to run. 

Outside the city wall, the Dragon Witch let out another roar, and Roman urged his horse forward, drawing his sword. 

Right now, Logan didn’t matter. 

What did matter was making sure that his realm did not fall. He was Roman, Creativity, creator of this realm and Prince of the mindscape. He was a hero, the only hero Thomas had left after all the others had fallen prey to the wicked machinations of those accursed Dark Sides. 

And nothing, not the others, not the Dragon Witch, nothing, was going to stand in his way.

— — — 

Screams rang out through the streets as another of the Dragon Witch’s roars shook the city. Seth pressed himself up against the wall of the alleyway, peering out from behind a corner. The palace drawbridge lowered and Prince Roman and his guards in full armor appeared. The thunder of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestone and with the blare of the soldiers’ warhorns echoed all around Seth, and he ducked out of the way as the battalion rode past his hiding spot. 

The market was quickly emptying as merchants and shoppers fled the streets, and he intended to take full advantage of the chaos. Now that he had secured a place by the square, he hoped to pilfer enough foodstuffs from the merchants to be set for at least a week. Seth waited until the last terrified shopkeeper had disappeared from sight, then he crept out from the alleyway into the square. 

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly pulled him back into the shadows. He spun with a cry, his fists up in an instant ready to strike, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who had attacked him. 

“Maddie?”

“We had a deal, Seth,” the girl said, glaring at him. 

“But I saw you…the Arachnids…”

“Show me the servant’s entrance, please,” Maddie interrupted, folding her arms. 

“What, now? We’re in the middle of a siege! Come on, let’s comb through the market and see if we can get any–” 

“Seth, if you don’t show me that servant’s entrance right now, I will ensure that you spend every waking moment for the rest of your life fighting tooth and nail for that market spot. I said it was yours once you showed me the entrance, and unless you take me right this second–” 

“Okay, okay!” Seth said, raising his hands in surrender. “Sheesh, Maddie, what’s gotten into you?” 

“It is vitally important that I gain access to the palace. The reason why doesn’t concern you,” Maddie said as Seth led her up the street towards the palace walls. 

Luckily, the entire city guard had ridden out to the gates with the Prince to fight the Dragon Witch, and the barred gate where Seth met his contact on the palace staff stood unprotected. 

“There’s a door on the other side of the garden that the servants use,” he said, pointing through the courtyard. “Though I don’t know why that would matter to you, it’s not like you could get in. There are easier places to steal food from, especially since the city is under attack right now?” 

Maddie didn’t bother answering, she just pushed past him and pulled experimentally on the gate. It was locked and didn’t budge, but she didn’t seem put off by that fact. 

“Thank you, Seth. Our deal is complete. The spot by the market is yours. Now, I suggest you take cover; as you so aptly pointed out, the city is under attack.” 

“What about you?” Seth asked.

“I have something I need to do,” Maddie answered, pulling a small glass vial from her dress pocket. She uncorked the bottle and poured a few drops of its contents on the gate’s lock, and Seth stared in awe as the metal melted away like ice on a summer’s day. 

“Now go,” Maddie ordered. “I’ll explain later…if we ever manage to resolve this whole ordeal.” 

Part of Seth wanted to stay and see what on earth the girl was up to, but just then the very sky seemed to explode, bright purple lightning and blue streaks of light flashing all around as the ground shook. Seth became overwhelmed with nausea, and he fell to his knees, retching. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maddie still standing, seemingly unaffected by whatever strange spell had caused the world to fall apart around them. He tried to call out to her, but she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the palace grounds before he could force his mouth to form words.

As soon as it began, the lightning stopped, and after a moment of gasping, Seth regained his bearings. He looked at the open palace gate, but then another roar rang out, and he turned and ran back through the city towards his new market spot. Maybe after he scavenged what food he could, he’d risk the gangs and take cover in the sewers until this was all over. Whatever had Maddie acting all weird, he didn’t want to know about it. He’d have a hard enough time surviving the Red Sun as it was. 

The Dragon Witch’s roar echoed through the streets and Seth stumbled as he skidded around a corner. 

When would this madness end?

— — — 

“Prince Roman!” the Dragon Witch called out, her voice reverberating through the city. “Show yourself and face me!” 

She hurled a spell at the city walls, and they buckled and folded beneath the weight of her magic. She stretched out her wings and roared, the very sound of her fury sending a squad of guards who were approaching to draw back in fear. A few of the gate guards tried to stand their ground, but she batted them away easily with a swing of her tail. 

Slowly, she stalked into the city, giving the peasants in the streets plenty of time to run screaming from her mighty presence. The slower and more dramatic she was in her approach, the more time it would give Prince Roman to muster his entire guard and ride out to face her. 

After a few minutes of her lazy destruction, the sound of battle horns rang out in the distance, and the Dragon Witch smiled. Looking up, she caught sight of Prince Roman’s black and red banner fluttering in the breeze, signaling that her quarry was coming within her grasp.

“Ready, little hero?” she asked quietly. She felt the grip of the human sitting on her back tighten. 

“As I’ll ever be,” came the answer, and the Dragon Witch chuckled. 

“Don’t worry,” she reassured. “Just stick to the script we practiced and you’ll be fine.” 

Prince Roman came into view then, and she had to give him credit where it was due. Even in this mindset, when the very fabric of her reality was changed because of his pain and anger and frustration, he was personally leading the charge against her. How many tyrant kings would send their armies out to die in a battle that they wouldn’t dare to risk themselves?

He wants so badly to be good, she thought as the prince stared up at her, his face twisted in a look of disgust. Not just good. Perfect. If only he could see the truth. 

“So it comes down to this!” Roman called up in a loud, clear voice. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you capable of this level of betrayal, Logan.”

He spat the name out like it was poison, and the Dragon Witch felt her passenger tense. 

You can do this, little hero, she thought. Save us all. 

“Prince Roman!” Logan’s voice was firm and unwavering, and the Dragon Witch couldn’t help the small swell of pride she felt at the sound. 

“Release your prisoners and surrender, or see your realm destroyed!” 

— — — 

Roman stared up in disbelief as the Dragon Witch sneered down at him. Of all the possible outcomes, of all the ways that he’d expected a confrontation with the last remaining free Light Side to go, he’d never expected this. 

Logan sat on the Dragon Witch’s back, staring down at Roman with a determined expression on his face. He looked almost comical, in his simple polo shirt, tie, and glasses while riding atop such a majestic and mighty beast, but Roman wasn’t in the mood to find humor in the situation. 

“Release my prisoners?” Roman repeated. “And why, exactly, would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, we will destroy the realm,” Logan repeated simply. 

“If you think that I and my forces won’t be able to defeat the Dragon Witch before she destroys the city, let alone the realm, then you’re sorely mistaken.” 

Logan frowned, tilting his head. 

“You would risk your entire world’s existence, rather than accept defeat?”

“I’ve not been defeated yet!” Roman shot back. “Besides, I made this world. If it is destroyed, then I will simply make it again. Your threat is meaningless!”

“And the lives of the people living in it?” Logan demanded. “Are they meaningless too?”

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, the world split apart. Purple lightning filled the sky, and he let out a cry of anguish as a wave of emotion slammed into the walls he’d placed up between his realm and Thomas. 

There was the same fear and anxiety from Virgil as there had been before, but there was also sadness, doubt, and guilt, manifesting in bright blue flashes throughout the storm. The guilt was somehow even more debilitating than the fear, and as he fought to keep the emotions from reaching Thomas, he could feel his grip on the realm itself slipping. 

No… he thought, desperately trying to hold on to his composure. No, no, no… 

— — — 

It has to be perfect. If it’s not perfect, then I’m just a fraud, I’ve basically been lying to my fans this entire time, and I can’t let that be true, I won’t let them down like that, it has to be perfect.

Thomas let out a gasp as his creative flow slammed to a halt, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. 

“It will be good enough,” he said aloud to his empty room, but the swirling thoughts of dread and despair only grew stronger. 

But what if it isn’t? What if you’ll never make anything worth watching again and all the sacrifices you’ve made, all the friendships you’ve harmed along the way, all of that will have been for nothing? Your dreams will never come true and your friends will all abandon you. You’ve never really been that good a person anyway, why on earth would they stay? You’ll end up all alone for the rest of your life, and it will be your fault.

“What is going on?” 

Thomas started to reach out for his sides, but he wasn’t sure who exactly to summon. Who could be responsible for this type of thinking? He’d never felt like this before, as though his thoughts were being forcibly pulled out of his control, except…

Except for that time when Virgil had ducked out. He hadn’t been as aware of it, but his thoughts had felt just like this: foreign and strange and fully divorced from what he was directly experiencing.

Thomas frowned, and decided that the best thing to do would be to summon all the sides together. He started to reach out with his mind, but before he could contact anyone specific, somebody appeared in the corner of his vision. 

Unfortunately, it was the last side he wanted to see. 

“Janus?” he asked. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I think you should take a break, Thomas,” Janus said quietly. “Put the laptop away and try to get some rest.”

“What? No,” Thomas said, shaking his head. “I need to keep working on this, it’s my best idea ever. It could completely change the course of my creative career, I just have to get these feelings under control and then I’ll–” 

“Thomas,” Janus interrupted sharply. “You’ve been working for fifteen hours straight.” 

Thomas glanced at the time on his laptop and was startled to see that Janus was right; it was nearly three in the morning, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d stopped to take a break. 

“You need to stop,” Janus said, his voice firm. “Your magnum opus can wait until tomorrow.” 

“I guess…” Thomas said slowly. “But what’s going on with the others? I felt…strange, just now.” 

“Get some sleep,” Janus said. “If everything goes right, you’ll feel better in the morning.” 

Thomas frowned, giving Janus a skeptical look. 

“Is that my Deceitful side lying to me, or is it the truth?”

“At the end of the day, does that really matter?” Janus asked with a tight smile. “Either way, you need the rest.” 

“I suppose,” Thomas said, stifling a yawn even as he spoke. 

Janus watched as he closed his laptop and got up, a strange expression on his face. Thomas tried not to pay him much attention, quickly swapping his jeans out for some pajama pants before falling into bed. 

“Summon the others tomorrow,” Janus said as Thomas closed his eyes. “By then, they should have things straightened out.”

Thomas was already drifting off, and he felt more than heard Janus’s final words. 

“I hope.”

— — — 

Roman was losing his control. He looked up, and he could see the imagination around him beginning to crumble away. He noticed bits and pieces from his room, the bright white of his bedspread, the shine of the lights around his mirror, the blood red of his sash where he’d thrown it on the floor. The fantasy around him– his soldiers, his city, the Dragon Witch, even Logan himself– it was all flickering in and out of existence as the mental barrage continued. 

“NO!” 

Roman stopped trying to channel the emotions away and instead closed his eyes and pushed, forcing his mental walls back up, stronger and better than before. 

“You won’t take this from me!”  

He opened his eyes, only to see that the outburst of energy had reverted the Dragon Witch into her human form. She stood before him, leaning heavily against her magic staff, Logan now on his hands and knees at her side. Roman drew his sword, pointing it at the pair with a shaking hand. 

“You. Can’t. Take this from me!” 

Logan’s entire body was trembling, but he looked up and met Roman’s gaze, glaring at him even as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“You’re insane,” he whispered. 

Roman let out a bitter, hollow laugh.

“If you just now figured that out, then you’re…” he trailed off, looking down at the shaking side. 

He had begun to fade away as Roman’s control over the imagination loosened, but he was fully solid again now. His breath was ragged and his skin was pale, as though he’d just attempted to run a marathon while running a fever.  

“You’re…not part of this realm,” Roman said slowly. “You’re part of Thomas. You shouldn’t have disappeared.” 

Logan still looked ill, but at Roman’s words he pushed himself to his feet. 

“What was that word he used?” Logan asked, looking over at the Dragon Witch, and a small, triumphant smile spread across his face as he looked back to Roman. “Checkmate.”

Roman’s eyes widened, then the Dragon Witch lashed out suddenly, her staff glowing as she swung it towards him in a wide arc. Roman threw his sword up and blocked her strike, and her spell went ricocheting off through the city.

For a moment, all his attention was on the fight, on blocking and parrying and counter attacking, but he’d sparred with the Dragon Witch dozens of times, in both of her forms. By the third strike from the witch, he’d settled into a familiar rhythm, and turned his attention back to Logan…or what he’d thought was Logan.

“Who are you?” he shrieked. “You can’t be him! He shouldn’t have disappeared! So you must be–” 

“Meaningless?” asked a voice he’d never heard before.

Roman pushed the Dragon Witch away and took a step back, staring in disbelief as Logan’s form began to flicker, just like the rest of the imagination had, just like all the other characters Roman had designed to fill his vast fantasy world had done when he was losing his control over the scene. But he was back in control now; this shifting had another cause. He’d barely had enough time to form the thought before the image of Logan was gone. 

In his place stood a barefoot girl in a tattered dress, her hair a wild mass of curls and her fists clenched at her sides. She looked somehow…familiar, and Roman tilted his head. 

“Do I know you?” 

The girl didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. He remembered now, for the longer he looked at her the more he recognized where she’d come from. When he’d first created the town surrounding the castle, he’d decided it needed citizens to make it feel more lived in. He’d made soldiers, peasants, shopkeepers, tradesmen and artisans, and then, to make the place more realistic, he’d made a handful of street urchins. 

He’d scarcely given the creations any thought after forming them and setting them loose in the city, and why would he? They weren’t meant to be important; the girl had no family, no backstory, no real role to play in his realm. So how on earth had she ended up here, fighting alongside the Dragon Witch and impersonating one of Thomas’s sides?

She looked up at him and he could see fear in her eyes, but there was a quiet strength too. The girl folded her arms and took a step towards him, and the Dragon Witch held out an arm, as if to shield her.

“Careful, little hero,”she murmured, and Roman looked back and forth between the two in disbelief. The girl ignored the witch and took another step, looking up at Roman with a determined expression.

“Like I said,” she repeated. “Checkmate.”

Roman turned and ran, knowing even as he did so that he’d never make it back to the palace in time. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he should have known something was wrong! Why else would the Dragon Witch attack now when she’d never attacked during the Red Sun before? Why else, except to draw him and all his guards away from the palace, leaving the castle vulnerable to an unseen enemy, a more crafty enemy… 

A shadow fell over him, and he glanced up as he ran to see the witch in her dragon form flying along above him, the little girl on her back once more. She quickly overtook him, and landed in the market square, spreading her wings out and blocking his path to the castle. 

“You’re too late, Prince Roman,” the Dragon Witch declared.

“I’ve defeated you before,” Roman cried, shifting into a fighting stance. “I can defeat you again!”

“You can defeat me all you like,” the Dragon Witch replied, her mocking voice echoing his own inner thoughts. “But you’ll never be able to outsmart him.” 

— — — 

Logan had no idea what was causing Roman’s realm to fall apart, but he was exceptionally grateful for it. 

The few remaining guards inside the castle were too overwhelmed by the effects of their very fabric of reality unraveling around them to notice a small girl running through the corridors searching for the dungeons. 

He found the correct door after only a few minutes of searching; Roman’s penchant for the dramatic meant the one door that very obviously looked as though it led to a dungeon did in fact lead to a dungeon, and he pulled the vial of acid the Dragon Witch had given him out of his pocket. Technically, the Dragon Witch had described the liquid inside as a magical potion that would dissolve any substance besides its own container, but the ‘potion’ was functionally identical to a freakishly effective vial of hydrochloric acid. 

Tomato, Solanum lycopersicum, Logan thought as he poured a few drops onto the door handle of the dungeon. After a moment of sizzling, the lock dissolved away and he pushed the door open. 

The room was dark, faint torchlight flickering ominously off the stone walls. Six cells lined the room, and the two at the end of the row were occupied. 

“Patton?” he called. “Virgil?” 

The prisoners looked up, and relief flooded through him when he saw their faces. 

“Maddie?” Patton cried, jumping to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Who is that?” Virgil whispered to Patton, but Logan ignored the question. 

“Not Maddie,” he said breathlessly. “It’s me.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out another vial, downing its contents in a single gulp. A strange tingling sensation enveloped his body, and he had to admit that in this case, he didn’t have a scientific explanation for the shapeshifting potion that the Dragon Witch had given him.

“Logan?” Virgil asked in disbelief. 

“Watch your hands,” Logan said, stepping forward to pour the remainder of the acid on the locks on their cell doors. 

“I knew you’d figure something out,” Patton said, his eyes shining with pride. “I just knew it.” 

In a moment, both cells were open, and Patton rushed out, pulling Logan and Virgil both into a bone crushing hug. For once, Logan didn’t think, didn’t analyze or worry, he just wrapped his arms around his friends and let himself slump into them. 

They were all safe, and they were all together. For one, shining moment, that was all that mattered.

“Are the two of you alright?” he asked when he eventually pulled back. “You’re not injured, are you?”

Patton shook his head. 

“We’re fine, Logan,” he said, and Virgil nodded in agreement. 

“My head will be a bit sore for a few days, but I’ll live. What about you? We heard the Dragon Witch attacking…” 

“I’m fine,” Logan reassured him. “In fact, the Dragon Witch attack is my own doing.”

“What?” Virgil exclaimed. 

“The potion…” Patton said, his eyes widening. “That’s where you got that potion that made you look like Maddie, isn’t it?” 

“Technically, the potion made me look like myself, as it was an antidote to the spell that she cast to make me look like Maddie–” 

“Hang on, where is Maddie?” Patton interrupted. 

“She’s with the Dragon Witch…pretending to be me.” Patton’s jaw dropped open, and Logan grimaced. “I know! I tried to tell her that it would be safer if she stayed behind in the cave, but she insisted. She said that the distraction would hold Roman’s attention for longer if I appeared to be aiding the Dragon Witch directly in her assault.”

“Back up,” Virgil said, holding up his hands. “You let the Dragon Witch cast a spell on you?” 

“She is Roman’s biggest villain,” Logan said simply. “Asking her to help us defeat him was the only logical choice left.”

“To be fair,” Patton admitted, “It’s not that much crazier than what we tried to do.” 

Logan frowned. 

“What you tried to do?” 

“We’ll tell you on the way out,” Virgil said. “Right now, we should move, before the guards come back.” 

Logan nodded, and the three turned and began making their way out of the dungeon. 

“Remember what happened on the bridge?” Patton asked as they climbed the stairs, and Logan nodded. “Well, I had a feeling that it wasn’t Roman who caused it…I thought it might have been Virgil. And it turns out I was right!” 

“You caused the Imagination to fall apart?” Logan asked, looking back at Virgil. “How?”

Virgil shrugged.

“I’m not exactly sure. I had an overload of anxiety, but something was blocking me from channeling it away the way I normally do.” 

“Roman’s cutting off our access to Thomas,” Patton added. “I think that’s also why we can’t sink out. Reach out for him now; you can’t feel him, can you?” 

They’d reached the top of the stairs, and Logan paused. Normally, he was at least subconsciously aware of whatever external stimuli Thomas was experiencing, so that he could filter through the information and assist with decision making. He’d been so distracted by the quest to save Virgil and Patton that he hadn’t even noticed the lack of that awareness.

“I can’t,” he said aloud, and Patton nodded. 

“I can’t either. Whatever Roman’s done, it’s making him our only access point to Thomas. So we’ve been waiting for the right time to try overloading that access point.” 

“When we heard the Dragon Witch attacking, we thought it would be our best shot,” Virgil said. “And for a minute there I thought we would actually do it, but just before we could break through, the wall went back up again. Somehow, Roman was still stronger than the two of us put together.”

“Perhaps…” Logan mused. “But nonetheless, the two of you did have a strong effect on the Imagination. I wonder…would it be successful if all three of us tried to breach that barrier?” 

As they spoke, Logan led them outside and through the palace gardens to the servants’ gate in the side of the wall. The three stepped out onto the street, and Virgil looked around hesitantly. 

“So��now what?” he asked. 

Logan opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a familiar roar sounding from the market square. He grimaced, and looked back at his companions.

“Our original plan was to try and sneak out of the city. But simply escaping from Roman isn’t actually going to solve this problem.” 

Patton glanced at Virgil, and at a small tilt of the anxious side’s head, he locked eyes with Logan and nodded. 

“You’re right,” he said firmly. “This whole thing happened because we’ve been ignoring this problem. The only way we’re going to bring an end to this is if we confront it head on.”

“Guess we’ll get a chance to test out your hypothesis, Logan,” Virgil added as they hurried towards the square.  

“If it comes to that,” Logan agreed. “I do still hope that we’ll be able to use reason with Roman, though after all we’ve done to reach this point, I don’t know if that will be effective.” 

“Probably not,” Patton said quietly, and Logan glanced at him. 

Patton met his eyes for a moment, and Logan was surprised at the amount of melancholy he saw there. All through their ordeal, Patton had maintained a level of optimism that bordered on recklessness. As much as Logan had found that to be unrealistic, he also had relied on it for strength more than he’d realized. That Roman had somehow managed to dampen that was almost more offensive than the fact that he’d locked Patton and Virgil up.

Before Logan could think of an appropriate response, the trio rounded the corner into the square, then immediately skidded to a halt. Patton let out a gasp and Virgil swore under his breath; all Logan could do was stand there blankly and take in the scene.

Guards in full regalia lined the square, blocking off every possible avenue of escape. The Dragon Witch lay sprawled out on the ground, a deep wound in her side causing her breath to come in quick, pained gasps. 

Roman stood over her fallen body, and the red sunlight shining down on his silver breastplate made it look as if he was bathed in blood. His face was twisted in a terrible mix of fury and triumph, and he brandished his sword at his defeated foe, as though daring her to stand and challenge him again. 

She was in her dragon form, but as her wound spilled blood down onto the cobblestones, that body fizzled away, revealing the humanoid woman Logan had first met outside her lair. Her robes were torn and bloody and her face was deathly pale, but her eyes still blazed with a defiant fire as she stared up at her opponent.

“Any final words, Witch?” Roman asked in a steely voice.  

The Dragon Witch opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a high pitched cry rang out through the square.

“Stay back!” 

Maddie darted forward, putting herself between Roman and the witch’s body, gripping Dragon Witch’s staff tightly in both hands. The thing was nearly twice her height and she brandished it clumsily, but Roman still paused in his advance. 

“Out of my way, girl,” he said, but Maddie shook her head.

“I said back!” she insisted, shaking the staff towards him. 

“Run along now, little hero,” the Dragon Witch coughed, reaching weakly towards the girl as if to pull her back. “Your part is done.” 

Maddie shook her head again, and Roman frowned. 

“I won’t tell you again. Stand. Down,” he said coldly. 

Maddie shifted her feet and gripped the staff more tightly, but she did not move, and Roman sighed, raising his sword. 

“Enough!” Logan shouted before he could bring the blade down.

Roman looked up, his eyes flashing with hatred as they landed on his three fellow sides. Logan’s confidence faltered as the full force of that glare landed on him and he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. 

What if it doesn’t work? What if it’s not enough? I have no more tricks up my sleeve…if this plan fails, then what are we going to do?

Logan’s racing thoughts were pulled to a stop with a sudden, simple touch. He looked down and saw that Patton had stepped forward and intertwined their fingers. The moral side glanced up at him and nodded, a slight waver in his smile the only sign betraying his own nerves. Virgil stepped up beside them, locking eyes with Logan as he wordlessly took Patton’s other hand. An understanding passed between them, and Logan smiled, giving Patton’s hand an encouraging squeeze. He looked back to the square, and took a deep breath.“Enough, Roman!” he repeated, his voice steady and strong. “This ends now!” 

— — —

AN: So I know that LAST time I updated I said I wanted to update the fic more and then almost 5 years passed, but I can say with confidence that THIS YEAR chapter 10 at least will be released, if not the entire end of the fic (I won't actually know whether the conclusion takes one or two chapters to write until I, you know, write it, but it's outlined, I promise). I've been trying to finish this story for so long, and I know it looks like nothing happened between these updates, but rest assured, I thought about this story and how much I wanted to finish it often during these past few years. Thank you so much for being patient with me, and thank you to anyone who still has stuck around to read this, even after all this time. I love each and every one of y'all <3

(If you were on the Our Own Villain taglist, I will be tagging you in a reblog, tagging has changed so much in four years that my taglist copy-paste doesn't even work anymore)

[fangirltothefullest]

Please everyone send well wishes and love to @teacupfulofstarshine she's going through it right now and I don't want to give details but please send her love!

[the-biggest-lol-asks]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 100 likes!

Tagging random people! @teacupfulofstarshine @candy-dot-net @daphne-claws @breadfraudbitch

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Virgil wants exactly two things out of life: Doctor Sanders’ advice on his dissertation and the freedom to pursue his research in peace. He thinks he’s gotten both of these things, and then he finds a wounded merman tangled in a net on the beach. he rescues him, because of course he does, and that’s not so bad. Then the others show up, and man, they are NOTHING like Disney led him to believe. At least one of them’s cute, right? (OR: the analogical mermaid!au that exactly one person asked for)

Author: @teacupfulofstarshine

Note from submitter: HOLY DHIT ONE OF MY FAVES EVER also hi teacupfulofstarshine if you see this i freaking love this fic <3

[lovelylogans]

random distribution

The number π (/paɪ/; spelled out as "pi") is a mathematical constant that is the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter, approximately equal to 3.14159. It is a transcendental number, meaning that it cannot be a solution of an equation involving only sums, products, powers, and integers. The transcendence of π implies that it is impossible to solve the ancient challenge of squaring the circle with a compass and straightedge. The decimal digits of π appear to be randomly distributed, but no proof of this conjecture has been found.

ao3 | other fics on tumblr | coffee?

warnings: mentions of baking mishaps, let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairings: none, all platonic!

words: 2,152

notes: hi, all! i wrote this for the tss fanworks collective discord january remix challenge; i took @edupunkn00b’s fic 3.14159265 ... and had some fun writing some fluff for it! thank u to @teacupfulofstarshine for the “patriarchy” pun in here! edu, i hope you enjoy it!

⁂

Pi day, in Patton’s mind, has reached transcendental levels of importance.

Previously, the attention he’d paid it had been potential for puns and potential for pies—both matters near and dear to his heart, of course, and an opportunity for great, low-effort fun.

Say what you will about Patton’s endeavors today: they certainly cannot be called low-effort.

He’s done research on best crusts to pair with each flavor profile. He’s gotten deep into baking blogs’ pros and cons of blind bakes. He’s hauled enough flour, sugar, and jam into the cupboards to best maintain a surprise to pass as workouts for a full week. Those bags of flour are not Eton mess-ing around!

He even, in a move that he thinks would make Logan particularly proud, made a spreadsheet to list out all the baking timings and when he needs to start each pie.

Because while he is doing this to make sure Logan feels heard, he also wants to take the particular recent incident to heart; he wants to make sure they all feel heard. And, while Pi Day is definitely skewed in Logan’s favor, he can’t help but throw in a few gestures for the rest of his favorite guys.

So that means boo-berry pie for Virgil, and strawberry rhubarb pie for Roman, a good ol’ apple pie for Thomas, and an interesting recipe he’d found when he’d gotten sidetracked on the blogs; a lemon meringue galette sounds just about perfect for Janus.

And that means, though the flavor definitely isn’t within Patton’s particular profile—ugh!—haggis for Remus.

(What are tatties?! What are neeps?! Where is he meant to get groundnut oil??? What is the proper measurement for a dram, and should he even really be pouring a dram for Remus anyway? Patton’s Google search history is really getting to some areas of the internet it doesn’t usually get to stray into!) 

Patton decides to just. Not really look at it too closely. Or smell it too much. And to maybe clean out the oven between bakes to make sure the other pies don’t taste too haggis-y. He can’t imagine a blackberry-pomegranate jam pie is going to blend well with the lingering scents of sheep liver and suet.

So Patton sets his alarm to purr (a purring cat alarm clock! what will people come up with next!) at a truly ridiculous time of day. 

It’s actually a little bit painful, waking up that early. Ugh. The sun isn’t even up. Patton can still see the light of the moon filtering through his blinds. It’s so cozy in his bed, and out there it’s so cold, and he’s tired, gosh darn it. 

It’s a good thing he sets two alarms; the cat alarm within his reach and, in a move of forethought that usually eludes him, a second one on his phone that’s out of his reach so that he’ll need to actually get up to turn it off. He finds himself dozing off in that space of three minutes between blaring, but even as the second one starts, he thinks that might have been just what he needed.

More sleep. 

But that’s going to have to be contained to three minutes and three minutes only. Because there’s a brilliant, bespectacled brainiac who has a year-long hankering for both jams and pies, and this is THE day to cater to both of those interests.

So even while he’s debating going back to sleep, he thinks for Logan, and that staves off the last sweet temptations of warm blankets and more blessed, blessed sleep.

So he blearily pulls on one of his many blue polos, ties his cat hoodie over his shoulders, and descends the stairs, headphones in hand and playlists prepped, ready to tackle the pies of the day.

He turns on his headphones and puts on a playlist Roman made, preheats the oven, washes his hands, and lays out saran wrap he can flour to roll out doughs (thank you, baking blogs, for that tip on how to get a lower level of mess!) and then gets sidetracked because he could have sworn they had a rolling pin, where is it—

(It’s tucked into the drawer where they usually keep a mishmash of other unusual kitchen supplies, which means that Patton also gets to find a little juicer which will save him time when it comes to juicing lemons for Janus’ galette. Neat!)

—and goes about rolling out the first of many, many doughs.

All made with butter, flour, sugar, salt, ice water (substituted about half of that water with vodka for some, which apparently makes a flakier, more tender crust? He’s interested to see if that one actually works) most of them the night before, so that the doughs had time to chill, but he still has a couple quicker crusts (made of graham crackers, mostly) that need to be assembled, like, now.

Also, he’s going through so. much. butter. Holy moo-ly is that a lot of butter! These pies are gonna be delicious, though, you’d butter believe it!

Patton laughs to himself. He has a feeling he’ll be doing that a lot today.

He packs away the first of the pie fillings (old-fashioned jelly pie, one of the two blackberry-pomegranates, and Virgil’s boo-berry) and sets the first three pies in the oven. He’s on a roll!

Or. Hang on.

Patton immediately sidetracks starting on the second batch to look up if pie rolls are a thing (they are, of course they are, what will those recipe bloggers come up with next!) and takes a few moments to deliberate if adding in a whole new baked good would be worth it for one pun.

He decides to wait and see if he has enough leftover dough for that. But he is very tempted.

Patton gets into a pretty good rhythm, really; by the time the first three pies come out of the oven, the next three (Roman’s strawberry rhubarb, Thomas’ apple, and a peach mango) are rarin’ to go, and he’s even got a head start on Janus’ fancy galette crust!

It’s more fun and less fussy than he thought it’d be, really. The crust recipes he’s found for this recipe is much less fussy than the needs-to-be-chilled-forever pie crust he’d been working with before his baking research for today. 

Patton hums happily along to the latest song on the playlist because he doesn’t know the words well enough to sing as he carefully pinches and pleats the dough.

The filling, on the other hand, is very fussy. Why is meringue so dramatic? Patton overbeats it for, like, maybe five seconds and it immediately deflates on him. 

Okay, more like thirty seconds, but he wasn’t sure what foamy was meant to look like, he was just trying to be sure!

But anyway, he manages the second attempt at meringue pretty well, or at least well enough to manage. He manages to transfer the meringue to the galette crust with minimal spillage. Woo-hoo!

He has to pause in brushing egg yolk along the crust to take out the pies and swap in the three newest (another old-fashioned jelly pie, Janus’ galette, and a blind bake for the french silk that’ll quickly go into the freezer).

He’s so in the zone that he doesn’t even notice until he’s taking out the latest old-fashioned jelly pie, sniffing it and frowning at the incorrect smell, that he’d completely switched around the two containers they use to hold salt and sugar.

Patton sighs, staring down at the ruined pie. Oh well.

He hesitates.

It’d be a shame for it to go to waste, he guesses.

He folds, and takes in a forkful of pie, before pulling a face and leaning to spit it out in the sink. Yuck!

He quickly wraps it up with foil and adds a post-it note on top that says FOR REMUS: SALTY?

Patton hopes he’ll like it, otherwise people might get salty about missing out on what could have been a perfectly good pie.

So he gets started on an extra old-fashioned jelly pie; good thing for that extra dough, but he guesses that means no pie rolls. Oh, well! He can still make the pun while knowing about their existence, even if he won’t have a physical prop.

All’s sel that ends sel.

(Get it, sel? Like sel gris? It’s some kind of French salt, Patton thinks. According to Google, anyway. And it rhymes with all’s well that ends well? No? Ah, Patton can admit that’s not one of his best puns. He’ll keep workshopping it before he cracks a joke to Remus.)

But the rest of the baking goes great! He even remembers what each piece of Scottish lingo is for each ingredient of the haggis! 

There’s no more salt-for-sugar level catastrophes; the closest mixup he has is misremembering which way he was overlaying a lattice, and that’s fixed easily enough even if the lines aren’t as straight as they are in magazines.

There’s a lot of not straight in this household, though, so Patton figures everyone will be okay with that.

He even manages to finish ahead of schedule! Take that, Great British Baking Show stressful rush music that was starting to play in his mind! He bets Mary Berry’s blue eyes would sparkle at him in grandmotherly pride! Prue Leith would happily tap the countertop with the flat of her hand if she tasted one his pies!

Earning a Paul Hollywood handshake? Patton doesn’t know about that one.

But that’s to Patton’s preference. He really isn’t sure about that Paul Hollywood. Something about the judgings he doles out. And why is his judgment more heavily weighted than Prue’s, anyway? Prue’s an incredibly accomplished baker! 

It’s that darn pastry-archy working, Patton bets. Just because Prue’s not queen of scones or something doesn’t mean her opinion matters less than the silly king of bread.

Patton might have said so, really, during their latest bingewatch of the show, except it’s not a particularly common opinion. He isn’t sure how much his fellow sides prefer Paul Hollywood to Prue, though. If he says how much he prefers Prue and Mary to Paul, then someone whose favorite judge was the batter latter might take it like Patton’s enacted the Pi-ides of March.

He manages to settle most of the pies, goes about scooping in cold fillings for the chillier pies that need to be in the fridge (French silk, a peanut butter-chocolate pie, banana cream, and a very promising Twix pie he’d found—those blogs, really, what will they come up with next? Patton hopes all of them have been sent flours for their efforts!)

Patton spends the rest of the morning tidying up the kitchen of stray flour and sugar, arranging the pies in a flavor order that makes the most sense of him, (with the salt pie far in the back) and trying to pick out which of their dining utensils would be cutest to use with each pie, watching the sunrise filter in through the windows.

Ooh, he can’t wait to see the look on all of their faces!

⁂

And he does get to see the looks on their faces; the surprise, the pleased smiles, the “mmm!”s as they eat their specialized pies, Logan’s soft smiles at him when he probably thought Patton wasn’t looking, and Patton’s happier than… well, happier than a sweet-toothed sugar lover in his kitchen, currently full of pies, pies, and more pies.

And dirty dishes. But that’s less important to the metaphor, and he can take care of that pretty quickly! Just… later.

What? It’s not like they can have Pi Day without trying to seek out other pie-themed foods!

(It’s mostly pizza.)

At the end of the day, when everyone else has gone up to bed, when Patton’s loading the dishwasher, he pauses.

There’s one more covered dish than there was this morning.

A chocolate chip cookie pie for our favorite dad guy!

—Janus, Remus, Roman, and Virgil

P.S.: Your gestures of celebration are appreciated. —Logan.

Patton beams a bright, silly smile, briefly tracing his fingers over their signatures, then carefully cuts himself a slice of chocolate chip cookie pie.

It’s delicious. Still a little warm—so it must have been baked recently, probably when he’d fallen asleep on the couch a bit, oops—gooey, chocolatey throughout, and the perfect marriage of a pie and a cookie. Patton wiggles happily as he eats every last delicious crumb of his slice, making sure to carefully wrap it back up and place it amongst the other pies.

He takes the note, though. That’s going somewhere special.

And as he falls asleep, full of sugar and all the good things, he knows he’s going to sleep well after a day of baking and eating and making sure Logan knows he’s appreciated.

Even if he has silly dreams about the moon turning into a big, silver pie.

[shanastoryteller]

happy happy birthday, shana!!! love all your work!!! could i ask for a snippet in your "cut from the same cloth" bnha au, or anything with todoroki/iida/midoriya? have a wonderful bday!!! ❤️❤️🌸🌸

Considering Shinsou is chronically single and Kaachan had told Urakara and Kirishima to marry each other if they wanted a wedding so badly because he refused to marry only one of his partners, even though they’d both been fine with flipping a coin to see who could be his legal spouse.

Which means that Mei’s wedding is his only chance to get to be a best man.

“Man of honor,” she corrects absently, working on a seating chart that looks more like schematics for one of their inventions than anything a wedding planner would know how to interpret. She’s going for more a Western wedding than he had. It had been for the best at the time, but now he’s sort of bummed that their friends didn’t get to see him and Shouto get married. “You’ll still be wearing a dress.”

Obviously. “When is Tenya asking you?”

“Friday, according to his google calendar,” she answers.

“Do you think it’s a red herring?” he asks. “Obviously you’ve hacked his calendar.”

She blinks at him a moment then clarifies, “I added it to his calendar about half a year ago and set up alerts for three and one month in advance. It’s important to set realistic expectations in a relationship.”

“Right,” he says and makes a note to check with Tenya that he knows he’s proposing to Mei on Friday. He probably does. He’s really good at checking his calendar.

[delimeful]

HI I'M FUCKING SCREAMING LIME. I HAVE WAITED SO GOD DAMN LONG FOR AN UPDATE TO TSITS (and side question: did you pull that title from the fuckin' song constellations by the oh hellos bc every time i hear that son g i hear that line and i go !!!! lime's fic!!!!) AND I AM CURRENTLY SCREAMING, OMG, ANXIETY BABY PLEASE CALM DOWN WE LOVE YOU IT'S GONNA BE OKAY (lime it better fuckin' be okay i s w e a r) also LOGAN MY LOVE anyway i'm screaming everyone is screaming this was Good i am Gay i love you <3 <3 <3 <3

thank you so much :’D im so glad that the update was good despite the wait! poor virgil’s got a lot on his plate, and the light sides have much to think about... im sure they’ll figure it out eventually :) (and i did pull the title from constellations!)

[catnippackets]

i'm sad that swan is ending (for now, anyways), but i also respect your decision to not continue it! if it ever continues again, i will leap on the chance to read it, but for now, i'll just appreciate your stunning art and eagerly look forward to your next projects!! i'm sure they'll be just as amazingly good <3 :D

thank you!! <3 I am SO excited to share my next project, it’s coming along so well and I’m stoked to keep moving forward with it <3 I wish I knew just when I’ll be able to talk about it but just know even though I’m not posting publicly about it I’m working harder on it than I’ve ever worked on a story in my life and it’s like...really good so far fjgffghg it’s made me remember why I love being a storyteller

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

A crack in the mask

This is something I wrote for @teacupfulofstarshine, set in her breathtaking au ‘the crossroad of our destinies’. After binging it three times in one week, I got inspired to write a little angst! Unresolved, but I guess you’ll have to read Star’s story to find out how it resolves.

(I hope you like it Starmom, I really super duper love your work and reading it makes me so happy, I know this isn’t a super happy piece but I wanted to give something back and I got so INSPIRED)

...

Virgil hadn’t been raised by benders.

In his tribe, he was alone in that aspect – precious, rare, but also different. He’d had to learn early, to train alone, teach himself how to master his bending. That hadn’t made him exempt from the other lessons the water tribe taught their children.

How to sew. How to fight. How to fish and sail and repair a boat when necessary. And how to be strong.

Since leaving on this big adventure with the Avatar and his friends, Virgil was learning all kinds of new ways to be strong. Patton was strong in standing up for his beliefs without violence, and letting his emotions show. Logan was strong in his loyalty to his brother. Roman was strong in his disloyalty to his father, in choosing where he truly belonged and choosing to fight against what he had known his whole life.

In the water tribe, the way to be strong was to be as impassive as the ice under your feet. Cool, calm, collected, even in the face of fear and danger. It was how the men of the water tribe were supposed to act when conflict struck. Of course, now Virgil knew that that approach wasn’t the best for every situation; that bottling up your feelings could lead to an explosion and make everything worse.

But some habits were hard to shake.

Which was why when Roman shot glares at him from across the campfire, Virgil looked back coolly. Why he kept up his icy façade and turned away and spoke dryly, as if Roman’s avoidance and suspicion were merely an annoyance, rather than a painful twist of the knife. Why he sighed and explained things calmly and walked away from situations instead of escalating them.

Of course, Virgil knew that the cool mask could only last so long. Which was why in the dead of night, with the fire burnt down to coals and the steady snores of his companions rising around him, Virgil rose from his sleeping bag and made his way through the woods, weaving out of the little clearing they’d set up camp in. Remy twitched when he stepped on a twig. Virgil froze and after a moment the bison settled down again. Virgil let out a breath.

There was no moon tonight, the thin crescent slit hidden behind thick swathes of clouds that hung over the world like a grey blanket. They cast the world into a haze of shadow and more often than not Virgil had to feel his way through the trees, following the low gurgle of water from the brook he knew was nearby. He could tell when he reached it, less from seeing and from feeling the ground under his feet change from root-crossed soil to pebble-strewn grass. Virgil dropped to his knees and buried his hands in the water – it was bitingly cold. It made his fingers tingle and spark with pins and needles. It felt almost like home.

Here, in the quiet and the dark, with only the water for company, Virgil let himself cry. His shoulders hunched and despite his efforts to hush them, soft hiccups and sobs rose into the air, muted by the clouds and the trees all around. Misery filled him and spilled down his cheeks in hot trails.

It was only fitting that a water bender express agony with water. The droplets slipping down his face dripped from his chin but never reached the water. By their own decision they collected together and hovered in the air in a swirling, wriggling ball of pain that was not unlike the squirming of Virgil’s stomach.

He didn’t know how long he cried for – not even the moon was out to guide him tonight. But eventually he ran out of tears to cry, or at least ran out of energy to cry them; the collection of salty droplets splashed down into the brook and he pulled in a long, shuddering breath.

So they didn’t think of him as family anymore. So Logan was scared of him and Roman shot him glares and Patton said in his innocent way, “Even if he did try, I’m too fast for him!” So they were only keeping Virgil around so he could get them into the Northern Water Tribe and everyone knew it. So what? It made no difference. Virgil could do his part to help the avatar, and then Thomas and his friends would leave and go save the world or some shit. Virgil didn’t have to be with them. If anything, this was good – he wouldn’t have to hide his water bending anymore. It didn’t hurt that much.

(His heart told him he was lying. Virgil told it to shut up)

Virgil sat up and splashed his face with icy water to cool his flushed cheeks. The cold stung his face. He winced and rubbed his cheeks only to find that water had frozen on it in droplets. Stupid bending, always acting out and being dramatic. He thawed it with a quick gesture and shook his head, letting the droplets fall away.

His hair usually hid his eyes, more so now that Thomas wouldn’t meet his gaze, so he didn’t have to worry about his eyes being puffy the next day. The blotchy face he could hide pretty well. But he would have to disguise his tiredness – if Roman knew that Virgil had been moving around at night he would be furious, maybe even take to not sleeping in order to ‘guard’ the others. And if Roman was tired, he would be off his game, and they would be more vulnerable to being captured, and if the Avatar was captured they were all screwed.

A crunch snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts and he whirled, hands flashing to his knives. The forest before him was dark and deep and full of shadows so thick he couldn’t see past the first few trees. Was there someone there? A scout? A fire nation soldier? Thieves? His breathing increased as the possibilities flashed through his mind, faster and faster. He had to get to the others, he had to protect them and make sure they were safe and-

A turtleduck waddled out into the open.

Virgil sagged in relief. Not dangerous then. He crouched down to watch the toddling creature slip into the brook and begin gliding with the flow of the water, followed by a v formation of clear ripples. Safe. Virgil took a few moments to lower his head and take deep breaths, trying to calm the frantic race of his heartbeat. When it had finally calmed down he rose and started making his way back through the trees.

Was it just him, or was it even quieter on the way back? The tinny chirp of insects had died away as if the creatures had been startled quiet by a bigger, or clumsier, presence. Virgil slipped a knife into his palm as he walked. It was too quiet. The burbling of the brook seemed obtrusively loud in the deafening silence.

A presence behind him.

Virgil whirled and brought his knife to the person’s throat.

The guy froze, and Virgil recognised him with a flash of clarity – he stuffed his knife back into its sheath and hissed, “What the hell, Princey? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I was about to ask you the same question.” Roman, having recovered quickly, growled. His hair was mussed up with sleep in a way the fire prince would never allow to see the light of day. “What are you doing?”

“Getting water.” Virgil said sharply, trying to hide the panic running through his mind. To an already paranoid guy, this must look very suspicious. “Is that a crime now?”

“It is when you sneak off in the middle of the night doing who-knows-what.” Roman retorted. Virgil tried to slam down his icy composure but the cold and the crying and the exhaustion wouldn’t be squashed down anymore – his already-red eyes prickled and he folded his arms and looked away to hide the new tears welling up.

“Sure, super scary. ‘Oh no, the big bad bending-stealer is staying hydrated! What else could he be capable of, maintaining basic hygiene?’ Shit, you’re right Princey, this kind of behaviour is unacceptable.”

He felt, more than saw, Roman swelling up with indignation. To be precise, he felt the heat waves radiating off the red-faced prince. Roman wouldn’t actually… burn him, right? The fire bender was hotheaded and currently hated Virgil’s guts, but surely he wouldn’t attack him. Even if he did, Patton and… well, at least Thomas would stand up for Virgil. Maybe? Unless he was angry at Virgil for upsetting his brother…

“How dare you mock me when I’m protecting my family!”

Virgil shook his head. “You know what? I’m out.” He stepped towards camp but Roman caught his wrist in a solid grip. Virgil jerked back with a hiss, unable to hide his flinch when Roman met his eyes. But Roman didn’t look as furious as he did a second ago. He was frowning, but he looked confused. Too late, Virgil realized his swollen red face was on display.

“Are you crying?”

“Shut up!” Virgil yanked him arm away, and Roman didn’t fight it as hard as he could. Of course he didn’t want to touch the big scary bending-stealer for longer than he had to. Virgil wiped his eyes fiercely and glared at the staring prince. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? Let’s find out, shall we?” Virgil’s voice was rising in pitch, but he couldn’t bring it down. He didn’t want to bring it down. He buried his hands in his hair and pulled to feel something other than the boiling soup of misery and rage in his chest. “What’s wrong with me is that apparently I’m the fucking villain of this story! What’s wrong with me is that I’m so dangerous I can’t be trusted with the people whose lives I saved, because I’m so scary.”

Roman clenched his fists, but Virgil was not done. He stabbed a finger at Roman’s face and the fire prince had the nerve to flinch.

“I’m a threat to your new family?” Virgil’s voice dripped with cynicism. “Well, boo fucking hoo. You’re not the only one who lost your parents, Princey. At least you have a brother, and an uncle, and a partner, and friends, and I have-”

Virgil’s voice dissolved into a whisper. He wanted to keep shouting – his chest burned and he could finally yell and rage like he had been aching to for weeks, but… now there was only sorrow. It made him feel heavy. There was a weight on his back and Virgil’s shoulders curled in under its weight.

“Well, I thought I had a family.” He smiled bitterly at Roman. “I guess I don’t count. I wish you’d told me earlier how much everyone despised me. At least then it wouldn’t hurt so much.” Virgil laughed. “And here I thought you guys liked me.”

And now, now Roman looked uncomfortable. “Well, Patton-”

“Doesn’t stand up for me. Sits there and watches. And Thomas. And Logan. They don’t like me. I’m only still around because I’m useful. Because I was stupid enough to think I was wanted. Because stupid Virgil, scary Virgil, thought he was a part of the family, thought he was safe, WHAT AN IDIOT!” He was screaming now. He yanked at his hair so violently that he could hear a ripping sound, but the pain was good, it kept him grounded, kept his voice from dissolving. “JUST STUPID FUCKING VIRGIL!”

“Hey!” Roman was grabbing his wrists. “Stop it, you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

“WHY THE FUCK DO YOU CARE?”

Too much, too much, he was saying too much. He struggled to slam down a lid on his bubbling emotions. Roman’s fingers dug into his wrists, trying to pry them out of his hair. Broken strands tangled around Virgil’s fingers. Broken, snapped. He could barely feel the pain. Roman finally succeeded in wrenching Virgil’s hands away.

Stupid, stupid. Virgil snatched his hands from Roman’s grip and shoved them into his pockets, pointedly avoiding Roman’s wild gaze. He threw up his impassive wall hastily – though was there really much of a point anymore? Roman started to speak but Virgil cut over him, voice scratchy from screaming.

“I’m going to bed.”

Roman didn’t stop him from stalking back to the campsite and burying himself in his sleeping bag. Virgil couldn’t sleep that night – at times he drifted in and out of a restless doze, only to snap awake with a jolt from half-formed nightmares he couldn’t quite remember. Several times the next morning Roman looked to be on the verge of speaking, only to stop at the last second. Virgil was too tired and done to question him. He just wanted this day to be over so he could go to sleep and forget that this ever happened.

Of course, that was when Ruon-Jian decided to show up with his fleet, and things got a heck of a lot more complicated.

[ironwoman359]

Guys. I did it.

I've been working on it all week, and I've been stuck on the last paragraph all day but thanks to some help from the incomprable @teacupfulofstarshine, Our Own Villain chapter 9 is done.

Not sure if it's been 4 or 5 years since this story updated, but either way, it's been a LONG time, and I am so excited for you guys to read it. It still needs some cleaning up, and @theinvisiblespoon and I must have the customary "losing our minds over this document" beta reading session, but then it will be out in the world and y'all can read it. We're one step closer to resolving a story that began as a simple Roman's bedroom headcanon over six years ago, and I'm so excited!

[fangirltothefullest]

Yaaayyy!

Who would you say is your favorite character? Favorite ship? I’m definitely a multishipper, but I also come up with a lot of original stories, and I keep noticing that I tend to take characters who I took inspiration from Janus when making, and characters who I took inspiration from Logan when making, and I end up pairing them together. Every. Time. So maybe that’s my favorite? XD

My favorite character is definitely either Virgil or Logan, although I also LOVE Janus, and as much as Remus unsettles me, I also think he’s fun as fuck, especially in fanworks. Also I know people who say I’m a lot like Remus XD

Do you write fanfiction? I haven’t written any for this fandom (let alone posted it) but I might someday! What fanfictions would you recommend? Recently “Hand In Unloveable Hand” by Writing_by_the_fireplace absolutely captured my heart and ALL my braincells.

Hope you’re doing well!

-💟

Favourite character is Logan!

Davourire ship is logicality but I'm a multishipper and I'm cool with everything except remrom because I don't do incest ships and since they're canonical brothers I just don't feel comfy doing that. Power to people who are ok with it though, its all fiction and I won't judge its just not for me personally. X3

I do write fanfiction! They're on ao3 under the same username. I am particularly proud of A Primrose Promise because it's finished and Where the Lovestruck Bleeds.

Highly recommend these authors, all on ao3 and tumblr too but sometimes i forget their tumblr usernames:

Literally every fanfic from TheAsexualofSpades I'd so fucking good. They take up most of the space in my bookmarks. One of my favourite authors and they have SO MANY WORKS its insane.

Jinx72 has some PHENIMENAL works. I wish The Effects of Shame was finished.

@delimeful has a lot of really good fics!

Small Problems by Canadiantardis

@ironwoman359 has some very good fics

Of Coffee and Princes by Willowanderer

@teacupfulofstarshine has some amazing fics on ao3 under teacupfulofbrains. I am ESPECIALLY in love with their pattonella au, Lovely dark and deep, and living in the real world ain't it fun.

@residentanchor has good fucking fics- particularly the Practicality series, and The Seeds We Sow

The titular Superhero au Powerless by Patentpending

Minerva et Mendacius et Veritas by BrainlessGenius

NikaylaSarae has some good ones. I like Wanted, and also, I Miss The King

The Fall of King Romulus, and other works by Sidespart

Clouds and Moss by Izzyfandoms

Acantha-Echo has really good fics, including Look into Your Eyes, and the Sky's the Limit, but many more.

Coconutcluster has some very good fics

don't paint wonderful lies on me (that wash away) by codevassie

All Bitter and Clean by thunderbottle

Lose Control by ShamelesslyLimited

Monsters of the Subconscious by Quarantinevibes

There's more but these are some!

[pontsalin]

if you're still taking doodle requests, could i please request some analogical cuddling? maybe logan sitting on virgil's lap and kissing him while they're both wearing ridiculous cozy sweaters? also i love your artwork and you

They are soft.............................

[asterythm]

[please click for quality!!]

@teacupfulofstarshine happy birthday, starshine!! to celebrate, I was going to organize to have Logan Sanders personally show up at your door and offer you a saltine... but that fell through, so I had to settle for making a simple edit of this scene from your fic Ain't It Fun instead (which, btw, STILL lives rent-free in my brain at all times). maybe next year, though?

(wldjdjd okay but in all seriousness, I do hope you had an absolutely wonderful birthday, and that the year ahead of you will be even better -- you deserve the world and more, you ridiculously patient, caring, skilled soul. may this year be the best one yet!!)

[tulipanthousa]

Cotton and Down

Virgil has a very happy birthday.

Pairing: romantic prinxiety

Word count: 1368

Warnings: somnophilia, some flirting with other kinds of CNC, bit of degradation, and daddy kink

Notes: part of my Leather and Lavender verse AKA what is quickly becoming a prinxiety smut verse. Virgil’s birthday fic, ignore that it is a month late.

For @i-cant-find-a-good-username over on my patreon

thank you to @teacupfulofstarshine for beta reading!

---

Virgil loved soft things, of all kinds – stuffed animals, silk pillowcases and sheets, whisper-delicate nightgowns.

Virgil’s favorite soft thing in the house was his and Roman’s thick, quilted, down comforter, heavy and warm and perfect for cuddling under.

He recognized the feel of it, the thick cotton containing the fluffy down pillowed against his back. His own nightgown was a similar texture to the fabric, the same soft cotton. He was so comfortable, warm and pleased, humming his pleasure.

He gradually took in more awareness. The room was dark, no light shining through his closed eyes. The heady smell of Roman’s night moisturizer and cologne were on the pillow, clouding his senses. The warmth was almost heat, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or suffocating. It felt like … he was rocking slowly, like he was swaying on the deck of a boat. He felt good, good enough his toes were curling and he was letting out breathless little gasps.

A sudden spark jolted him a little closer to awareness, and he rolled his hips forward, making the good feeling even better. His mouth was salivating. Swallowing, he leaned into the hot air in the side of his neck, only half-aware he was moaning but loving the delicious sound that felt like it was surrounding him.

Another spark hit him and he moaned, his eyes fluttering open, already grinding his half-hard cock more firmly into the bed. Roman’s breath – because it could only be Roman, only Roman who could make him feel like this – was hot and hungry in Virgil’s ears, two fingers buried deep in Virgil’s slick ass, his body warm over Virgil’s spine under the comforter.

“Good morning, Princess,” he growled, and Virgil’s eyes rolled as he moaned.

“I woke up hard,” said Roman, mercilessly massaging Virgil’s prostate. “And you looked… oh so good. Laying on your stomach, you perfect little ass in the air. Didn’t even wear panties to bed, your cute little hole still relaxed from me fucking you last night … how was I supposed to resist?”

Gasping, Virgil fisted his hands in the pillow, breathlessly grinding back into Roman’s fingers, buzzing with pleasure and still pliant and warm with sleep. Roman licked a long stripe up the side of Virgil’s neck and leaned closer, his breath hot in Virgil’s ear.

“So I thought I’d give you your present early,” he purred, nipping Virgil’s ear lobe. “I planned to keep you in this bed all day anyway, wrecking your hot little hole, making you scream and beg. Why should I wait? I know how bad you always want my cock … even if you don’t know it.”

“Ah!” keened Virgil, hips jerking forward. There were spots in his vision. He could feel himself leaking, a wet spot forming under his trapped cock.

“Maybe even especially then,” said Roman, slipping a third finger inside. “I think you like the idea of me taking you whenever I feel like it, don’t you Princess?”

“Yes,” gasped Virgil. “Yes, god, Roman, please fuck me.”

“Hmmm,” said Roman, smirk audible, nipping the beck of Virgil’s neck. “Convince me.”

“Please!” wailed Virgil, fucking himself on Roman’s fingers, and Roman didn’t tease him, stroking hard inside him, stretching him beautifully. Virgil was too relaxed and disoriented and painfully turned on to be coy. “Please fuck me, fuck I want your cock so bad.”

“How bad?”

“Roman,” Virgil moaned. “Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything. I need you, I need your cock, I want you to fuck me and ruin me and come in my ass and keep fucking me, please -”

“Yeah?” said Roman, leaning closer and the angle pushing his fingers even deeper. “Maybe I’ll fuck you so hard you pass out again.”

“Fuck, yes, god yes, please, Roman, Ro, I want you so bad.”

Roman pulled away abruptly and Virgil sobbed at the loss, until the blunt head of Roman’s cock slid inside him with hardly any resistance.

“Fuck yes,” growled Roman, pressing his chest along Virgil’s spine, his elbows on either side of Virgil’s head. “Perfect ass, and you’re so ready for me, baby, so open and soft, I could fuck you all day.”

“Do it,” Virgil whined. “All day, keep me, keep me here, I’ll do anything you want, just keep fucking me.”

“God, you're perfect,” Roman snarled with a snap of his hips that had Virgil seeing stars. “Perfect little whore, all mine, made to take my cock.”

“Yes, yes, harder, harder -”

“Say it.”

“Made for you,” Virgil wailed immediately. “Made for you, all yours, I’m your slut and no one else's -”

Virgil lost the thread of his own words and Roman’s, no idea what either of them were saying but knowing it was driving him insane. The only pressure on his cock was where it was trapped between him and the sheets (and anything Roman had done while Virgil was still asleep – the thought made Virgil choke on a sob of pleasure), but he knew he was going to come. He knew he was going to be brought over the edge by nothing but Roman pounding him into the mattress, Roman’s hot, heavy breath on the back of his neck, his rough, low grunts as he used Virgil’s body, Roman, Roman, Roman -

“Fuck, Daddy!” he wailed, burying his face in the pillow and screaming as he came hard and long, an agonizing drag of pleasure torn from his body.

Roman groaned, shifting his knees higher up the bed and driving into Virgil even harder.

“Not done with you,” he growled. “I’m gonna fuck you over and over again, Daddy’s perfect little princess taking every inch of my cock every hour of the day.”

The jut of Roman’s hips was so hard Virgil could feel bruises forming on his ass - or maybe they were hickies, left while he was still asleep. Maybe Roman had eaten him out before lubing him up, or during, and Virgil wouldn’t know unless Roman told him, walking around with the evidence of his mouth and not even knowing it. He was completely limp on the bed, his cock overstimulated and sensitive as it scraped against the sheets on every thrust. The spark against his prostate with each stroke almost hurt, and it was perfect – he was all Roman’s to use however he wanted, made to be his princess, and no matter how much he bratted he’d always wind up right here, on his Daddy’s cock.

Roman pressed his forehead between Virgil’s shoulder blades and hissed as he fucked into him with a handful of final thrusts and came with a groan.

Now still, Roman panted against his neck for a long, indeterminate minute. He peppered a few kisses along Virgil’s shoulders, and Virgil giggled.

“C’mere,” murmured Roman.

He rolled over, and Virgil whined at the loss of his fullness, but Roman pulled him close to spoon on their sides, burying his face in Virgil’s neck and humming happily.

“Hello, Angel,” he crooned.

Virgil giggled again, turning his head to nuzzle Roman’s cheek.

“Happy birthday,” said Roman sweetly. “Was it everything you wanted?”

“Perfect,” mumbled Virgil, grinning dazedly up at him. “You did great.”

“And how are you feeling?” said Roman, rubbing his hand up and down Virgil’s side. “Do you need anything?”

“Feel great,” said Virgil, rolling over to slip his leg between Roman’s and snuggle close enough to give him a clinging kiss. “Need cuddles. Lots. I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Roman, his expression soft and besotted. He reached up to catch a few strands of Virgil’s hair in his hand and wind them through his fingers.

“You’re perfect,” sighed Virgil.

“For you,” said Roman softly. “Always for you.”

“All mine.”

Roman chuckled.

“Yes, Princess, all yours. The feeling is mutual.”

“Keep me forever,” mumbled Virgil, tucking his nose into Roman’s throat and barely registering what he was saying, only that he was happy and sated and so, so in love.

Roman froze for a moment, before melting completely.

“Forever,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. “Forever and always, love of my life.”

Virgil was already asleep, but Roman didn’t mind.

He had plenty of time to tell him again.

---

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