#thomas' notes: *all sunshine and rainbows*

[the-cannibal]

Slashers reactions to their s/o having stretch marks (Part 1)

Lmao this totally isn’t me self insterting because I’m insecure of the stretch marks on my thighs eyyyy

WARNINGS: some language is used (aHEM BO), being insecure about stretch marks, this is sweet fluffy stuff! There are some nicknames used but not in regards to gender

Gender neutral reader: they/them and you is used

Thomas Hewitt

.Oh this sweet boy does not care that you have stretch marks what so ever.

.In fact he has them too! He has them near his stomach and on his thighs.

.He 100% would trace them when you guys are snuggled up on the couch together, or huddled on the porch.

.He never really talks about them, but he’s always touching them.

.however if you ever say anything negative about you stretch marks then oh boy you better be prepared for an hour long Ted talk on how wrong you are and how beautiful they are!

.when you wear things like shorts, skirts, etc, because let’s face it Texas can be hot as FUCK- he just can’t help from staring.

.‘Look at them. They’re so pretty/handsome🥺’ he would think to himself all the time

Stu Macher

.Unlike Thomas who is not very vocal about stretch marks, this boy is.

.”Babyyyyy your so cuteeee!” “They make you look like a sexy tiger!”

.He isn’t afraid to trace them in public.

.Your at a party? His hand is on your hip, tracing small circles around them

.but When you are in private? Oh boy… get ready for so many kisses.

.I strongly believe Stu is a thigh guy, and if you have stretch marks on your thighs he just loves them even more. They add character!

.Mans is not afraid to fight anyone who says anything negative about you or your stretch marks.

Billy Loomis

.Billy doesn’t care if you have them or not

.like he just doesn’t mention them. But he isn’t trying to be mean! He just doesn’t think it’s a big deal!

.who cares if you have stretch marks? You’re still as gorgeous as ever.

.but if you say something negative about them then… Well…

.”I hate my stretch marks…”

“What? Why?”

“Because! They’re so ugly looking! I just wish I could rip them off!- I-!”

“Stop stop stop. Don’t say that. Ever.”

“You know it’s true… Don’t even try and tell me you like them…”

“But I don’t dislike them either. They are a part of you, and I love you therefore I love them.”

.oh and if anyone says anything about them then it looks like GhostFace will have some fun.

Vincent Sinclair

.You have stretch marks? Please let him draw you, little details such as freckles, stretch marks, birthmarks, etc etc, are his favorite things to add to his art.

.If you are insecure about your stretch marks he would be sad but would understand.

.You two would help each other with your insecurities! Slowly you would assure him that you will still love him even without his mask, and he assures you that your marks are beautiful.

.but, we all know everyday isn’t going to be perfect sunshine and rainbows. So when you do have a bad day he does the one thing he knows for sure will show his love. Make art for you!

.Its everything from little wax figures of you, drawings, paintings, he even draws things on little sticky notes and sticks them around where he knows you’d find them.

.But is art isn’t enough then he will most definitely cuddle you and provide as much comfort as he physically can

Bo Sinclair

.Now we all know Bo can be an asshole, even if he doesn’t mean it.

.Bo probably won’t catch onto you having a bad day or being insecure for a while.

So he’d need one of his brothers to point it out.

.”What do you mean they’re upset? About their stretch marks? Why the fuck would that be upsetting?”

.He doesn’t mean it in a harsh or mean way. He means it in a ‘why would they be so upset about something so beautiful’. He just doesn’t know how to say it like that.

.So of course once he finds this out he is going to sit you down on his lap as he traces your marks and mumbles how you are the prettiest/handsomest person he has ever laid eyes on.

. “I mean if you wanna feel better just take a look at Vincent!”

“BEAUREGARD SINCLAIR!”

“Sorry darlin I was just jokin-“

.He’s not the best at comfort with words but he tries his best.

Ever since he found out you were insecure he holds you a little bit tighter at night.

.Overall stretch marks don’t bother Bo. He loves you no matter what.

Lester Sinclair

.You got stretch marks? Cool! He’s got lots of scars on his arms and hands from doing stuff with his knives!

.He just sees your marks as something that makes you, you.

.Would also 100% call them tiger stripes

.Any visitor/victim makes a remark on them? Fuck them they can walk to Bo’a garage. He’s gonna take you home and show you some lovin!

.Said visitors would also get a message from Bo to make ‘em really suffer, tee hee

[damianbugs]

9 and 13!

9. What’s your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written?

13. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

side note these were such fun questions but it took me so long to answer because what the hell since when did i write so many fics ???? someone needs to stage an intervention because FIFTY FOUR ?! goodness

despite the horror of realising i have way too much time on my hands i love talking about writing batfam so !!! here are some of my personal faves :]

9. What’s your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written?

PLUTO.

it's another moment in the fic where i made jason see the painful cracks in this darker batman and see who pluto!bruce could have been, especially on the topic of family and choice. he's my friend and he has many problems

THE MOON KEEPING WATCH OVER ME.

this is the very last line in this tim and damian fic and its probably my favourite ever because its literally what i was trying to show in the story. sometimes all you need is a brother and some time to realise that :)

ALL THE ASHES IN MY WAKE.

writing this fic genuinely changed some sort of chemical balance in my brain because i have not been normal about bruce and damians dynamic since then. this line is like the sunshine rainbows unicorns i included before it all got very bad very quickly (with a happy ending!)

AN ACHING HEART TO SMILE INSIDE.

DUKE THOMAS AND BRUCE WAYNE DYNAMIC YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS. if dc won't give them back to me I will take matters into my own hands and thats what this is

A GRAVE FILLED WITH BOOKS.

PLUTO might be a gazillion words but THIS? my true magnus opus. my downfall. i ruined my own life with this. never recovered. never will. i will be buried with it.

13. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

thankfully not really, but i do often get people who don't read the tags asking me why the fic is not finished or why it ended like that, despite the very clearly bright neon underlined flashing AMBIGUOUS/OPEN ENDING tag staring at them. sometimes people can be rather mean about things they're confused about that can be explained by looking at the tags! though i don't think it's always malicious :]

there was also recently where someone left a huge comment about why my fic was not good because they didn't like the way i made jason resolve things with bruce 😭 to which i laughed at it and showed all my friends and we all made fun of it together <3

[tommyspeakycap]

Uncle Charlie and the Shelby sis?

omg i love this idea !!!!

I actually think that little Shelby would be quite close to Charlie so here’s a sweet blurb! (set in 1920 - so moving towards end of season 1. i also made up charlie’s war history as we don’t know much about it)

“Fucking, shitty, stupid bastard-”

“Oi!”

When you hear the sound of the voice cutting in likely to chastise you for your use of explicit choice language while you were practically beating the shit of the hay you were shovelling for the horses, you turn around to face him. He see’s that you look rather flustered, face a bit red as you blow a sigh past your lips and shove your hair back out of your face. “Sorry, uncle Charlie.”

“Mhm,” he nods his head, “And what’ve your brothers done this time eh?” You sigh again with some sort of disgruntled huff afterwards to display your clear irritation with the behaviour of who Charlie assumed would most likely be Tommy, Arthur at a push but very unlikely to be John. John annoyed you a lot, he knew, but never tended to make you genuinely angry. At least, never angry enough to switch off the sunshine and rainbows girl who sang and hummed while shovelling hay and horse shit.

“Tommy’s being a fucking idiot. Again.” You bite harshly.

“Oi!”

“Sorry, Charlie.”

He shakes his head at you with the very slightest of smiles. “And how’s that? What’s he done?” Your uncle grabs the spair shovel from where it was leaning against the barn door so as to join you in your cleaning of the stables. Charlie can sense the anger that had built in you from Tommy’s seemingly incessant enforcement of all sorts of new and more restrictive rules for the members of the family - especially you and slightly Ada - since he had started to try expand the business into the race tracks. He doubts this time will be any different from the last three times you’ve complained about him in the last week.

“Finn’s 11 and he gets to go with them to the races sometimes, but i’m nearly 17 and i can’t even step out the house without an escort when the boys aren’t in Small Heath. It’s so unfair!” You rant almost desperately. The frustration is clearly heard in your words, and Charlie was no fool to picking up on your feelings by the way you spoke and acted. Charlie very, very much understands your brothers desires to keep you safe; you’re his favourite if he’s totally honest. So he’s incredibly protective himself, he felt quite a sense of fatherly responsibility for you.

Charlie had gone to fight in France for around a year and a half. That definitely did a number on him, but he was transferred home after being shot. It was then that he was appointed a post on the home front as a farmer and some kind of war horse breeder and trainer because he was so good with animals. As a result, it had become his job to look after you during the years of the war that your brothers were away. Polly did your breakfasts and dinner and would make sure you were well looked after, but Charlie took you out to the farm during the day where he would make packed lunches. You would get to pick vegetables, train the sheep dogs, collect wool and the likes of that sort of work. He knew that since you were 12, had you stayed hanging around the factories in Small Heath, you might’ve ended up having to work in one, so brought you to work with him instead. It had brought you extremely close to your uncle.

It’s why now, it was his scrap yard you went to when Tommy and the rest of the family were getting to you. He would often find you there, felt like a sixth sense of some sort that he would just get a feeling you were there - if he hadn’t heard you shouting or singing. Most commonly your troubles were caused by or at least had some distant correlation to Tommy and something he had done. The head of the family does of course think through his decisions and what they’re impact will be, but the one mistake Thomas tends to make when he thinks abouts these impacts is what appears to always affect you.

And that is, that he looks for direct danger. He overthinks and spends nights riddled with fear that his plan will bring harm to those he loves. He fears Billy Kimber will come to try and take from Tommy what he holds most dear in retaliation if he doesn’t act exactly the right way. He fails to look at less direct impacts. He sees your protection escorts as keeping you from being harmed and sees keeping you in the house constantly as ensuring he knows that you’re safe, always. He doesn’t see you missing out on your youth or missing your friends or feeling threatening and anxious at the fact you’re always either in house arrest or practically with a fucking protection detail. He never thinks like that and Charlie knows that is what gets to you so much, because you just see that as he being malicious and not thinking about what’s best for you at all.

“Sometimes i just wish we were normal y’know?” The change in tone of your voice from red hot anger to a timid quite mumble tells Charlie that you’re hurting more than you may ever let on in words. “Just miss my life.” You lament lowly, dropping the shovel and instead opting to drop yourself down on a nearby haybale.

Charlie signs not in annoyance or anger, but in a kind of sympathetic way as he leans himself on his shovel and turns to face your direction. “I know you do, love. Think we all do these days. Missing your brother eh?” Charlie tries to ask you as softly as he can despite having a generally grumpy, grumbling voice. The question marks another change in your demeanour as he immediately notes that your shoulders slump and you begin clenching your jaw to try not to get all upset.

You just nod in response.

“Mhm,” Charlie hums, moving to sit on the hay bale next to you, “Though so.” He pulls you into his side and feels you shaking a little with a few small sniffles to tell him your were crying. It breaks his heart and he know it would shatter Tommy’s if he knew. He had known for weeks that part of your rage and irritation was a smoke screen for the painful fact that you just missed your brother. You missed being little and holding his hand, having him play games with you and look after you, spend time with you and have genuine, actual conversations that weren’t two minutes long, arguments or about business and rules. You were still young and the four years you’d spent without them, plus the trauma you’d gone through in your life, meant that you missed and relied upon them a lot more than most would. Your hurting heart just longed for your big brother to make all things right again, just like he used to.

Things were so much more complicated now than they were before, you knew that. But it didn’t stop the hurt, it only just made it more painful.

“Listen, hey, listen,” Charlie comforts, “It’s alright. I’ll have words with that brother of your eh?” He feels you nod your head. “Yes please.” You whisper, sniffling again.

A silence falls between you as it often does, a bubble created where you could feels your feelings and your uncle would do all that he could in his limited power to move whatever kind of mountains you needed moving so you could feel better again. It was damn near his very top priority that you were provided with a better childhood and better young adult-hood than what he was able to give the Tommy, Arthur and John.

But it just so happened that Charlie Strong made a promise to the woman he loved - your mother. The woman you were so very like. He felt it his duty to protect you like a daughter because that is what your mother would have wanted. He promised to look after you and in doing so he recognised what your brothers often didn’t. Your physical well-being wasn’t everything. Of the same importance he wanted, just as the rest of the family did, for you to be safe, happy and loved in an emotional sense. They did love you, all of them. So much it was painful and so much that it was enough to do you a lifetime; they just had such a bad way of showing it.

Charlie decided it was time now to give your older brothers a wake up call. It was time they learned how to love you in a way you understood. Killing for you and keeping you bubble wrap didn’t tell you they loved you, they had to show you in a true way. They had to tell you and hold you just like he had learned to do to show his care and love for you. He had to change to accommodate how you experienced love, so he did just that; he changed.

Charlie was determined and he held a level of authority with the boys he practically raised. So starting with Tommy, he was going to enforce that same change in order to make sure you knew just how fucking loved you were in that family.

And for Charlie Strong, all of the fighting, the pushing and the moving of seemingly unmovable mountains was worth in to no end when you mumbled, “I love you, uncle Charlie.” Against his shoulder while he hugged you tight.

“Yeah yeah, Shelby,” he sniggers, pressing a kiss on top of your head, “I love you too.”

[pleasedonthurtcjstar]

What a “Normal” Person Would Do

Ao3

Characters: Remus Sanders, Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders (Mentioned)

Ship: RemRom, IntruLogical (Implied)

Tags: incest, making out, knife play, blood, gore

Words: 1150

Summary: Roman is not happy with the events that occurred in Working Through Intrusive Thoughts (Asides). Angry Remrom s3x + Dark from RemRom Spooky Words Prompts. Please read the tags and my A/N. Omg Thank you Char on Discord for being my beta!!!

A/N: I've written something like this before back in the 9th grade. Let's see if I can do better than freshman year of high school. Side note: I’m so fucking sorry! Extra side note: jfc im so sorry ahhh. Last side note: Nope! Sorry y’all, I can’t push for a s3x scene so please enjoy everything leading up to it. This is what I’ve written in 6 months and this is how it’s going to stay.

Bc I forgot // Blog Tags: @remrom-events || #remromspookevent

Sometimes tumblr deletes the first line under the cut so hopefully if it does it’s this line and not my fic. Please check out ao3 if you’re worried though. This message is before and after the cut on purpose.

If you see this, hi! Thank you for giving this look. This message is on purpose.

Remus POV

.

Remus lay sprawled out on his bed in his room, lazily watching the tv as he waited for the hours to go by. The tv was making sounds at him but honestly he wasn't paying it much attention.

His door burst open, and then slammed shut. There stood Roman interrupting his hazy staticy thoughts. He could hardly be seen from the little light that was caused by the tv, allowing Remus to see Roman’s shadowy figure.

“How could you fucking do that?” Roman demands, his voice hoarse. Obviously the other was really angry at Remus. However Remus had no clue what Roman could be angry about at this moment.

And no, it's not like Remus is innocent. It’s just that Remus wasn’t sure what out of the billion things he’s done today alone could have been the problem at hand.

“Woah there brother,” Remus chuckles softly as if this situation was funny, “You're gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that”

In a quick swift motion, Remus was yanked off the bed and onto his feet. It happened so fast that honestly Remus was simply not ready or prepared for this type of action.

The sword was held against his throat and Remus was up against the wall, unable to draw his mace from god knows where to defend himself.

“I can not believe you think that this is funny! Wipe that fucking smirk off your face!” Roman demands, the blade pressing firmly against his neck.

“Oh please, as if you scare me,” Remus mocks. Roman obviously didn’t scare him; he could never scare him. Even with his hard demanding voice and any weapon of his choosing pressing against his body, it's not like they could die. They were all fictives of Thomas' imagination.

However, the low growl that crept from Roman’s throat and the way that his nose flared-

Jesus fucking christ.

Remus focused his gaze into Romans eyes.

“Come on. I’m intrusive thoughts and you’re just rainbows and sunshines. A fucking pussy is what you are.”

Why was he saying this? Remus wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe he just liked pressing Roman’s buttons. Honestly, he should stop. Roman is too pissed for his games right now.

Before Remus could choose between continuing his petty attacks on Roman’s character or backtracking his previous taunts, he watched as Roman suddenly inhaled sharply. He slid the blade against Remus' neck, slicing through the skin like it was nothing. In mere seconds, Remus felt the prick of the blade and the pain. Instead of what a normal person would do, which is to squirm away from the blade and the person who did the action, the worst thing that could ever happened took place.

He moaned.

It was still filled with anguish of course because… pain. But the moan was something that was not lost on Remus or Roman.

Roman’s eyes seem to only glow darker. He tilts his head to the side.

“You like pain huh?”

“Well-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Roman says quickly. He pulled the sword back from Remus’ neck and it transformed into a small blade, easier to wield and slice Remus up.

Remus’ tongue darts across his lips. Wetting the pieces of skin in anticipation of what was to come.

“Lucky for you I'm pissed and want to cut into something.”

Before Remus could respond, Roman was using the blade to cut off his clothing. His complicated attire soon in shreds falling onto the carpet beneath him.

“Roman?!” Remus gasped out in complete shock. Out of everything, he wouldn't have expected Roman to tear his clothes!

The knife in Roman’s hand dragged up Remus' belly. It was pressed hard against his skin, scratching it but not hard enough to bring blood.

Remus held his gut in.

“I know.” Roman said.

“Know what?” The dark sides whispered. He looked back up to Roman’s gaze.

The blade stopped moving.

“Logan told me”

Logan?

His thoughts were cut (lol) short by the feeling of piercing pain in his abdomen.

“Ah-hhh!” Remus lets out.

His cry of pain was eaten up by Roman’s mouth connecting to his.

They've never kissed like this. So hungry and full of need. Oddly Remus needed more.

The blade started to slip out. Slowly.

Roman pulled away from Remus’s lips just so he could hear Remus’s gasps. The grip on Roman’s arms was tight, Remus practically clawing at the Prince’s clothing.

“Ah, Roman.”

Roman takes in a big sniff of Remus' musk. He pulled the knife completely out, the blood seeping out the wound and running down onto Remus’ pants leg. A little of it getting on to Roman’s leg too. But they didn't seem to care.

“Yes sweetheart?” Roman replies. “You like it when I cut into you?”

Remus’s breath was quick. Almost hyperventilating, some could argue. Just as quickly as the wound was created, it was gone; however, the blood stained pants were still a reminder of what just occurred.

“You think you can flirt and be a little whore around Logan and I wouldnt find out?” Roman asked again. The knife now up once more against Remus’s neck, the point of the sharp object pressing against the skin daring to enter the soft flesh.

“I- no. See, I was just playing around with Logan-” Remus manages to get out. And that’s all he could get out before Roman’s quick movement sent metal into his soft under chin.

His mouth filled with his own blood, the metallic taste overflowing his senses. The handle of the knife stuck out from under his jaw. The tip of the blade scratching the roof of his mouth. It was beginning to be too much.

Roman pulled it out and tossed the blade onto Remus’ dark green comforter.

“You’re full of shit, Duke.”

Remus didn't respond. Well, not like he could respond. His mouth was still trying to figure out what just happened, not to mention the amount of blood that was pooling inside, slipping down his throat making him gag and choke it back up just for it to sputter out past his lips. He sank down the wall and watched as Roman unbuttoned his own top, throwing the white and gold article across the room.

Without having to physically touch it, Remus knew his jaw had closed up. His tongue darted out to lap up the leftover blood that had pooled in his mouth and stained his lips.

“Roman,” Remus calls from the floor, gaining the others' attention.

“Yeah?”

“That was so hot.”

Roman nods his head in agreement. “Yeah.”

“Are you still mad?”

There was a pause. It was still too dark to see Roman’s eyes from where he sat on Remus’s bed. Remus wished he could see his brother’s eyes.

“Yeah. Just a little.”

“Do you want to fuck the rest of your anger out?”

Romans lips curl up to a smirk. “Yeah.”

[notveryglittery]

birthday prince (3)

summary: virgil decides roman deserves a day off.  words: 2,100 / ship: prinxiety (roman/virgil) author’s note: this is part three of my Giving The Gay Anything He Wants series for roman’s birthday (june 4)! all ships are written implied romantic but i’m not stopping you from interpreting it otherwise. check the end notes on ao3 for credit on these gifts (bc i don’t know where to put them in this post)! i hope you enjoy!!

part 1 (roceit) | part 2 (logince) | part 3 (prinxiety) part 4 (royality) | part 5 (dlampts)  read on ao3

— — —

“Best two out of three.”

“I thought this was a birthday gift!”

“Yes and?”

“So why don’t I automatically get to pick the first movie?”

“Because I know you’re on a princess kick and full offense, if I have to deal with a talking animal as the comedic relief sidekick, I might actually die.”

“... Okay. Fine, okay, that’s fair.”

“On shoot.”

One, two, three, shoot — Virgil’s scissors versus Roman’s paper meant that the birthday boy did, in fact, not get to pick the first movie. He feigned upset for only a few moments longer before flopping back into their pillow fort. He supposed, given all the hard work Virgil had put into this, he could put up with one non-princess Disney film.

Earlier in the day, Virgil had rather unceremoniously kicked Roman out of his own room, claiming he had something important to do. Were it not for how close they’d grown, Roman would have been upset and suspicious; he trusted Virgil now, though, and knew that nothing would go wrong. He’d spent an hour playing cards with Logan and Patton before Virgil shouted for him from upstairs. When he’d arrived back to his room, it looked almost unrecognizable. It was mostly illuminated by fairy lights, providing a cozier feel than what he was used to; the floor to ceiling windows looked out into a rainy forest instead of the usual rolling hills; his bed had been turned into a truly impressive collection of blankets, pillows, cushions, and stuffed animals. The canopy had been removed which bothered him a little but only until he realized the projector that had been set up, pointing at the ceiling. There was a basket at the foot of the bed, filled with snacks and bottled drinks. Roman figured they could stay here for the next twenty four hours and be perfectly fine.

Surrounded by what was possibly every soft thing to be found in the Mindscape, Roman clutched Mrs. Fluffybottom to his chest as Virgil got the movie set up. She’d been his favorite plushie for the entirety of his existence; he’d taken her on many adventures over the years but she’d comforted him through a number of breakdowns too. He swore there was actually something magical about her.

Virgil threw himself down next to Roman; he had swapped out his usual hoodie for one that was fully dark purple and had even longer sleeves. After Roman had stopped gawking around his room, Virgil had tossed a sweater at him. It was so bright it was practically neon but it was rainbow print and he loved it. He’d immediately changed out of his t-shirt and had grabbed Virgil in a tight hug. Roman definitely intended on starting a sweater paw fight at some point during their movie marathon.

“You good with Hercules?”

“No comedic relief sidekicks, huh?”

“Phil is not a sidekick!”

“What? Are you trying to tell me right now that Philoctetes is a main character? You can’t say he isn’t comedic relief! He gets hurt just for laughs way too often!”

“No! I mean. Maybe?”

Roman laughed, bumping his shoulder against Virgil’s. “Whatever, you dork. Of course I’m good with it. You could have picked The Black Cauldron and I would’ve been good.”

“Talking animal. Comic relief. Sidekick. Gurgi checks all of those boxes. I would’ve been going against my own word.”

“Hmm, fair,” Roman said, humming a little.

As the Muses began singing them through the opening, Roman took a moment to appreciate everything Virgil was doing for him. The basket of goodies was stocked with every one of Roman’s favorite snacks, including enough chocolate to make him sick. In fact, it’d been the first thing he’d decided on, before Virgil could even tell him what the plan for the day was. Not that it was really much of a plan, anyway. Today specifically had been set aside just for Virgil to spoil Roman however he wanted. That apparently meant marathoning Disney movies, napping as much as they pleased, and eating all the junk food they wanted. It was a far cry from how Roman usually spent his time; what with all of the projects he was constantly juggling, or the content he had to help Thomas produce, or the issues to take care of in the Fantasy Realm. He didn’t really realize even how hard he was always working.

Apparently, however, Virgil had.

Something was shoved into his face, startling him out of his thoughts. He shot a glare at Virgil, who was watching the movie and acting totally inconspicuous. The item turned out to be a stuffed dragon, one he didn’t recognize from his usual pile of plushies. The scales were shimmery, a nice ombre of purple and blue shades, the wings were tucked against the body, and… Holding his hand against the stomach was warmer than the rest, as if it had a belly full of fire. That was so cool! He squeezed it tight in his arms and went back to watching the movie, feeling even comfier than before.

With the credits rolling, Virgil ushered them both out of bed and into a couple minutes of stretching.

“I’m not having you complain to me later on when your bones start creaking.”

“You make it sound like I’m so old, Virgil!”

“Older than me,” Virgil teased. He ducked out of the way of a thrown cushion. “Oh, is that what we’re doing?!”

Roman took a face full of pillow and suddenly it was on. He couldn’t begin to guess how long they fought for, darting around the room and over the bed, swinging their feather-filled weapons at each other. He did know that by the time he collapsed on the floor, he was breathless with laughter. Virgil was so far gone that he’d dissolved into alternating between wheezes and complete silence. Eventually, they did manage to get back into their nest of blankets, though there was plenty of shoving, poking, and tickling as they did so.

“I dunno if I’ll make it through this next movie so pick one that I won’t mind falling asleep during.”

“You besmirch the name of Disney if you think there’s a single film boring enough to allow that!”

“You dozed off the first time we watched The Good Dinosaur.”

Roman spluttered. “I had just come back from a week-long quest! And that’s Pixar!”

Virgil actually cackled. “You can’t pull that excuse! Disney owns Pixar!”

“Stop bullying me,” Roman cried, “it’s my birthday!”

“It’s two days before your birthday, actually, so I can bully you all I like.”

“I’m picking The Black Cauldron, then! See how you like dozing off during your favorite movie.”

It perhaps hadn’t been his best choice. With Virgil snuggled into his side, warm and soft, the sound of his even breathing accompanying the utter lack of any songs… Well, Roman really didn’t last much longer. They found each other in the Dreamscape. Edges were fuzzy, sounds were muffled, and touch was electric. The Dream Palace was a blurry shape in the distance, attracting his attention every so often when its crystal spires caught the light. Virgil sort of just appeared, as if created from the colors of the setting sun. Roman had a feeling he was made of the field of flowers he’d woken up in.

“I like it here,” Virgil said, sitting down next to Roman.

“Remy does a nice job with it,” Roman agreed, slowly picking daisies and dandelions to weave into a crown.

“You do, too,” Virgil argued. “You have a hand in almost everything, you know.”

Roman frowned at him. “I do not.”

“Yes, Ro,” Virgil insisted, “you do. The Memory Archives look the way that they do because you and Logan watched one episode of Doctor Who together and had the inspiration to redesign.”

Roman chuckled, a little nervously. “I guess.”

“Memory Lane doesn’t hurt Patton because it knows better than to hurt anyone you love. It might be connected to him and his room, but you’re the one that created that safety net.”

“Virgil…” Roman tried, voice slightly strangled.

“I just need you to know how important you are. You aren’t told enough.”

“It’s fine—”

“You’re important, Roman. You matter. You make a difference.”

Roman finally stopped trying to tie together the stems of the flowers. Virgil took his shaking hands into his own and held them tightly. It was just enough that Roman could actually feel it versus the tingly sensation that the Dreamscape normally worked with.

“We love you. We appreciate you and your hard work.”

If it weren’t for that everything around them was already blurry, Roman might not have noticed his vision swimming when tears filled his eyes. It was hard to not know suddenly that he was crying, though, regardless of how physically present he was in this space.

Virgil let go of his hands and instead, cradled his face gently. “I know I go against you sometimes but in the long run, I want you to be just as happy as you make the rest of us.”

He waited a moment longer before smiling and squishing Roman’s cheeks. Roman giggled a bit in response. Virgil gave him two careful pats before pulling away. Picking up the flower crown Roman had abandoned, he set to work on finishing it. Roman wiped his tears away and sat still in the sunshine, content to simply let himself soak it up until he was completely warm from the inside out.

When they woke, the screen projected onto the ceiling was displaying a screensaver of 3D pipes. The forest outside the windows had been replaced with a cliffside view of the ocean. Virgil stirred next to him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He absentmindedly pressed a kiss to Roman’s cheek before getting out of bed. He was gone for a little while, during which Roman found two more plushies that he didn’t recognize. They were a gryphon and a lion, both extremely soft to the touch, and with fierce expressions that reminded Roman of how Virgil looked when he was in fight mode. He wondered how these new stuffed animals kept sneaking into his collection but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

When Virgil returned, Roman burst into laughter, because yes, he supposed there was no chance of sneaking that one into the pile.

“There won’t be any room for me in bed, Virgil!”

“Guess you better get used to sleeping on the floor then,” Virgil said, dropping the massive Simba plushie on top of Roman.

This just made Roman laugh harder. The fabric on this one was fluffier than on the others, something he could sink his fingers into if he wanted. It was nearly as big as him, or maybe it just felt like that right now since it was smothering him. Before he could move it, though, Virgil sank himself down onto it as well.

“Virgil!!” Roman gasped between snickers. “Get off, you fiend!”

“Hmm…” Virgil hummed, pondering. From where he was laying, he could just barely look directly into Roman’s eyes. This made it all the funnier when he finally decided, in the most deadpan tone, “nah.”

After some wrestling, which led to them both falling out of bed and Roman bumping his elbow and howling for five minutes about his funny bone before Virgil kissed it better, they were finally settled back in to continue their movie marathon.

They watched Moana, Tarzan, and, Mary Poppins before sleep began to take them once more. Seeing as the sun had sunk below the sea quite some time ago, it was safe to assume it was late enough to call it a night.

“I got you…” Virgil paused to yawn. “Got you one more thing…”

“Vee—”

“‘S not much.” He held out Mrs. Fluffybottom for Roman to take. “I just… I made it so that she can never be hurt.”

For a moment, Roman’s lethargy was chased away by astonishment and surprise. He could feel the enchantment just from holding her, though it was passing by the second as the magic was fully absorbed.

“I know you… take her on adventures a lot. Fightin’ bad guys ‘n stuff.” Virgil shifted further into the blankets as sleep continued to take hold on him. “Wanna keep her safe. Know you will, anyway. But jus’ in case.”

Roman rolled onto his side so that he was facing Virgil. He kept the bunny plush tucked between them and took one of Virgil’s hands in his. “Thank you…”

“Love you. Happy birthday, princey,” Virgil told him, papping him once more on the cheek.

Sleep settled over them quickly after. Roman would wake in the morning, feeling more secure and warm than he had in quite some time, surrounded by plushies and Virgil’s arms, and know that he had so much to be grateful for.

[lailoken]

“The Lord and Lady of Norfolk

The magic of the land rises from beneath the rocks and I the soil on which we walk, and into which we allow our roots to grow. It is the basis of everything we do, for it is from this Earth that our trees spring and our herbs draw their nourishment. It provides building materials and the kinds of human activity which take place governs in any given locality, and so informs the culture which develops, in the mundane and the magical spheres. The solidity of granite or the smoothness of slate may suit the magic of some practitioners, who are then born to, or drawn to, such areas and landscapes, and learn to dance their spells to the ancient music which pulses from deep within the ground.

Those who work well in Norfolk are generally people who thrive on the magical twin influences of the white and grey powers of the Lady of the Chalk and the Lord of the Flint. If one peels back the geological layers of the county, there are other soils and rocks to be found here too. There is the Kimmeridge Clay from the Jurassic, which forms a fine, bluish-grey mud, the Lower Greensand of the Cretaceous, which forms the beautiful carstone, used for the distinctive buildings of parts of West Norfolk, or the Gault Clay, clearly visible as the red rock band in the wonderfully striped cliffs at Hunstanton. These have their practical and magical uses, often specific to the areas of the county in which they are found. The Chalk and the Flint, however, have a county- wide appeal, a greater visibility and much clearer mundane, practical and magical uses.

Of course, Chalk and the Flint are not exclusive to Norfolk. They are to be found in Yorkshire to the North, where the Iron Age Parisi tribe carved the Chalk warrior figures (Stead, 1988). They are present on the slopes of the Gog Magog Hills in Cambridgeshire, on the Downs of the South, the slopes of the Chilterns and all along that magical trackway, known as The Ridgeway. In Wiltshire, the Chalk is honoured with the magnificent Horse carvings in the hills, while Wilmington, in Sussex, has its Long Man and Dorset its Cerne Abbas Giant. However, such forces have a different feel, depending on other features of the locality, best understood by the practitioners of those areas. Their manifestation here in Norfolk takes on a special form, of far greater complexity than that of "mere" geology. That is why, when we call upon them, which we do in every ritual (for it would be rude not to), we refer to them by the titles of Lord and Lady of Norfolk, although they go by many names, some of which are known to us and others which remain a mystery. These beings are the most ancient ones, the Earth beneath our feet, our firm foundation; they profoundly influence what grows and flourishes on the land and what might just wither and die.

The Chalk and the Flint predate humanity by such an unfathomable length of time. When we pick up a piece of either from the ground, we feel that human beings are just children in the context of such ancient beings, and that our individual lives are miniscule in such a vast context. Yet these forces are also so much part of our everyday lives that they are, on one level, comprehensible and approachable. After all, since our arrival in these lands, they have shaped the development of our culture, what we grow, the tools we have used, how we build and express our spirituality, as well as the form and shape of our magic. We see and touch them every day, whether we choose to notice them or not; they are ordinary and yet hold the keys to the greatest of mysteries.

Revelations:

Sometimes the Lord and Lady of Norfolk choose to reveal their presence in a moment of drama or of great beauty. In the late afternoon, on a late Autumn day of blustering storms and spectacular bursts of sunshine, they may appear as a rainbow, or even a double rainbow, against grey white clouds. On a warm morning of sunlight, sand and gentle waves, they may show themselves in the dark and light sheen of a sea-washed Oyster shell. There is a clear and discernible distinction between the ordinary loveliness of the natural world and an announcement of the proximity of these deities, which can take the breath away, inspire an outpouring of creative work, or provide confirmation that we are heading in the correct direction, magically.

On one occasion, we had just completed a Maytime ritual with a large group of people, when one of our number glanced up and noticed a pair of Woodpigeons on a Sycamore branch, cooing and pecking each other's beaks. "Look," she said, "It's the Lord and Lady of Norfolk", and we all gazed up into the fresh green foliage and knew that she was right.

Such revelations can take many forms. At Thompson Water, one Spring, three of us stood on one of the fishing jetties, watching a Heron in the Reeds, Egrets in the trees across the lake and Terns performing their aerial acrobatics above our heads. We had planned a musical offering for the spirit of this place. One of us sang and I played a wooden flute I had brought with me, especially for this purpose. As the last notes faded away, an enormous Grass Snake appeared, swimming right towards us, paused by the jetty, and seemed to acknowledge us before disappearing under the murky water. This was a blessing indeed. We have sought this magnificent creature on subsequent visits, but have never seen it again, not that we really expected to, as this was obviously a manifestation of the presence of deity.

The Lord and Lady may appear in any form, at any season. One dark, moonless night in Winter, we were driving along a remote country lane in North Norfolk, having just completed a piece of protection work, when a magnificent Stag stepped onto the road right in front of the car. We stopped. He inclined his head just slightly and gave us haughty look before continuing on his way, in a slow and stately fashion, closely followed by the rest of his herd. We knew this to be a blessing on the work we had completed. Then, to add to our delight, rounding the next corner, we were greeted by the sight of a mother Cat playing, in the middle of the road, with a large litter of kittens. We stopped again and enjoyed watching their antics, in the beam of the car headlights. They continued their game for some time, until the mother decided that was enough and carried her kittens, one at a time, into the safety of the hedge. These are not small, forgettable incidents, but real treasures, which we store in our memories as the rewards for our magical work.”

—

Of Chalk & Flint:

A Way of Norfolk Magic

by Val Thomas

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hey! This is my first ask! There’s something that I’ve been curious about. I know it might be kind of a controversial topic, but I wanted to get your thoughts on it. It’s kind of hinted in the movie that Arthur wants to be free from his mom because taking care of her takes a lot out of him. Assuming she isn’t like Penny (she cares about him, tries to help him if she can), how do you think Arthur would feel about his significant other having a disability? How do you think he would help her not feel guilty for needing help with some things? It’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable answering I understand. Thanks!

Hello, darling!💝

This isn’t a controversial topic at all, in my opinion, though I will say that this question kept me company in the shower this morning because I spent about an hour digesting your ask before I finally took a break from university work to answer it!🥰❤ I’m honoured that you’re wanting my thoughts on this and I hope I can satisfy your curiosity!💖 I genuinely adore receiving asks like this!💘

I definitely agree that Arthur wants to be free from his mum. There’s a lot of... thinly veiled impatience when he’s interacting with her. The closest we get to seeing this (before the scene in which he murders her) is when he sighs and says, “yes, mother” during the scene when Thomas Wayne is on the television. His interactions with her suggest that every conversation they have throughout the canon is one which he’s heard before. He’s said all the same things before and he’s barely invested in their conversations because of this. Penny was, in my opinion, a victim too, but that doesn’t mean that the way she treated Arthur was ever even slightly justified. They were both victims but Arthur most definitely wanted her gone. He hated her long before he ever decided to kill her. That scene where he stands in front of the window basking in the sunlight has always reminded me of shackles being removed; he’s freed himself from her (and no, this does not mean that I condone his committing matricide. I understand it and I can empathise with his actions, but that doesn’t mean I agree with it or condone it) but it took violence to do so. 

Any partner of Arthur’s would have to be very patient with him. In some ways, too, they would occasionally be a teacher to him because he doesn’t understand social cues very well. He also displays problematic behaviours (i.e. stalking, such as what we see with Sophie) because of this, though he doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just curious. Arthur is not stupid, I want to be clear, but as a result of his social isolation and the fact that no one ever really bothered to teach him these things when he was a child, he definitely lacks the knowledge of social cues which his partner may take for granted.

This then brings me to the core of your ask, which I’ve copied into the appropriate places for ease of reading:

1) how do you think Arthur would feel about his significant other having a disability?

Arthur was obviously taught from a very young age to be someone who could run a household. This is where details get a bit fuzzy for me so I would love to hear others’ thoughts, but I know that Todd stated that Arthur was in and out of Arkham for much of his life and that he had been taking care of Penny for eight months from the start of canon, so I’m not too sure as to why he would have needed to drop out of high school during tenth grade, but I’m going to safely assume that Penny had something to do with it. 

Arthur is very much a natural caregiver and he did everything he could for Penny. He put his life on hold for her and she was, in my view, holding him down and holding him back from making his own way in life. Despite his growing contempt for his mother, he did everything that he could for her, to take care of her. She was his entire life right up until the moment he killed her, so for Arthur to have an S/O who loves him just as much as he loves them, he would thrive. He is naturally empathetic and vastly emotionally intelligent and the most dangerous thing about him is the fact that many people underestimate him. This is always shown to be a fatal mistake, and I don’t think Arthur would be all that bothered that his S/O has a disability.

I don’t mean that he would be apathetic towards his S/O for having a disability, I don’t mean that he wouldn’t care, because he absolutely would. What I mean to say is that Arthur would accept his S/O wholeheartedly. He would love them no matter what and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for them if it was within his power to do so. There is a page in his journal which speaks of his “one and only person who understands me”, someone who would be “in my space but not all alone”, so he would be utterly devoted to his S/O. He would take as best care of them as he could even around his eighty - ninety hour work weeks, his nights at Pogo’s and the like, and I will assume that he would receive the same treatment in kind to the best of his S/O’s ability. 

If there was anything about his S/O’s disability which Arthur was unfamiliar with or if he didn’t know what to do in certain situations or how to help, then I can see long conversations which go deep into the night. Due to his insomnia and late comings-in, Arthur would most likely be awake anyway and who better to learn from then his S/O about how he can help them? If there’s anything he’s too shy to ask about, he may well write it down for later and ask Dr. Kane or even go to Arkham to ask one of the attendants there to get some more information. Perhaps, if he was desperate, he would go to the library and do some research of his own and then take notes in his journal. He would be meticulous in his approach and it would probably get a bit overwhelming for his S/O because Arthur would do everything he could to learn as much as he could as fast as he could. 

In a healthy relationship where he is loved and cared for just as much as he loves and cares for his S/O, Arthur would blossom and flourish and though nothing can be cured or fixed with love (just as there’s nothing romantic about falling apart), his life would be just a little easier with his S/O by his side.

2) How do you think he would help her not feel guilty for needing help with some things?

I think that Arthur would have a very open and candid discussion with his S/O about why they were feeling that way. If they couldn’t communicate verbally then Arthur would find some kind of way to communicate with them, preferably by learning from his S/O themselves. He wouldn’t be perfect right away and it would be a slow learning process for both himself and his S/O (because Arthur’s disabled too), but I do think that Arthur would try again and again. It’s just like he says in his journal - step step step... 

He would want to know why they felt guilty for needing help with some things and I can imagine him being a little upset that they even felt guilty in the first place, though I’m sure he would feel that way sometimes, too. He would think on what they said and listen to them and Arthur would most likely be quiet for several moments after they’ve finished communicating their feelings to him while he digests what he’s been told. A logical approach would seem best, I think: he would share his own experiences in this with his S/O and point out that there are things which he needs help with, too (this is where the S/O’s occasional teaching role comes in, among other things). Arthur would use this to tell his S/O that both of them need help with some things and that’s okay - what matters is that they have each other. He would reiterate his love for his S/O and though it wouldn’t always be sunshine and rainbows (obviously; no relationship is like this and anyone who says otherwise is lying or hiding something, in my view), both he and his S/O would always do their best.

It’s important to remember that “best” is not a set ideal. It is something which changes day by day and it’s influenced by one’s mood and the circumstances and situations at hand. As such, some days Arthur would do more for his S/O than they can do for him, and other days this would be the other way around. That’s okay! Sometimes relationships are more 20% - 80% than 50-50 and as long as there are days when this is switched, it’s still a healthy relationship. The bottom line is that Arthur would do what he could with what he had at hand to alleviate his S/O’s guilt and he would expect the same for when he feels guilty. It would be hard work, every kind of relationship is, but so long as the love’s there (and it is), then difficulties can be overcome. Arthur would remain at his one and only’s side and he wouldn’t ever want to leave, no matter what.

These are all of my thoughts on this topic!💜There’s more to say but this is all I can think of for now; I may make additions in reblogs and I would love to hear people’s thoughts on this!💙Thank you so much for sending this in, angel, and I hope that you’re having a lovely day! I’m sending you strength and love.🥰🤗💛

[trashyswitch]

The Strange Twin Brother

Remus was known as the strange, impulsive brother who liked causing havoc wherever he could. Here are some stories of times he traumatized people, worried people and teased people through his charmingly grotesque ways.

I'm dedicating this fanfic to a couple of my friends who LOVE dark humor.

This fanfic has some SUPER dark humor. Animal death and a couple subtle dirty jokes added in. A little bit of bondage is used as well. So read at your own risk, and enjoy the dark humor!

It was always known that Roman was the preppy, clean one of the twins while Remus was the weird, stinky twin. Roman was known for play productions, being the ultimate feminine gay and for bursting out in song randomly, while Remus was known for pulling pranks, being a less hairy Grinch and for reading smut out loud to the entire room.

But Remus was also known for just being strange in general. There have been some disturbing moments where Remus was seen covered in blood while eating a raw rabbit, some annoying moments where Remus would shout out truths about certain origins behind Disney movies, and strangely amusing moments where Remus would bring a skunk home, give it a collar and keep it as a pet despite Logan’s demands to let it loose.

And yet, Roman often chalked all these strange behaviours down to just ‘Remus being Remus’ and wouldn’t question his already screwed up inner thoughts.

Doesn’t mean things were all sunshine and rainbows...Roman would be super worried for Remus if that were the case!

One day, Roman and Patton were looking at scrapbooks of old times with the family. They were looking at Thomas’s public school wins when the front door had closed. Roman turned around, knowing that would be Remus.

“Hi Remus! Any luck?” Roman asked.

Suddenly, Remus jumped out into the living room with his bow and arrow, a blood bag and-

WAS THAT WOLF FUR?!

SHIT! PATTON’S THERE!

Roman yelped and quickly shoved Patton’s face into the scrapbook to keep the innocent boy from looking. “OW! ROMAN! WHAT’S WRONG?!” Patton shouted.

“Uuuuuh...Animal...Hide.” Roman replied.

“ANIMAL?” Patton reacted with a big smile as he tried to lift his head back up. “What kind of animal is it? Let go, Ro! I wanna see the animal!” Patton asked excitedly.

Roman bit his lip and sat himself in front of Patton’s view. “It’s dead, Pat! You don’t wanna see it!” Roman let him know.

Remus just laughed at that. “So seeing a dead wolf carcass is off limits, but seeing TONS of Roman ass is fine?” Remus teased.

Roman rolled his eyes at that. “My ass is covered, unlike that devastated wolf face you’re wearing as a hood.” Roman shot back as he continued to keep Patton’s face hidden from the still-bloody hide. “Whaaat are you gonna do with the hide?” Roman asked.

Remus hummed and tilted his head to the side, causing the animal head hood to follow to the side. “I’m thinking a coat! Or a bathrobe!” Remus declared excitedly.

“Why not both?” Roman asked.

Remus gasped and ran up to Roman, tackle-hugging him to the ground. “YOU’RE A GENIUS!” Remus shouted.

Roman flopped onto his back, a good 3 feet away from Patton. Pat lifted his head up, and quickly screamed and covered his eyes. It really was a wolf carcass! A still-bloody carcass at that! Patton picked up the scrapbook and covered up his own field of view with it.

Roman giggled and looked at the jaw-dropped wolf face that was still slightly bleeding. “Are you gonna remove the teeth and feed them through a thread?” Roman asked, pointing at the set of sharp wolf teeth.

“Probably, yeah.” Remus replied.

Remus smirked. “You should dip the ends of the teeth into some red paint to make it look like bloody teeth that just caught their meal.” Roman suggested.

“Hmmm...Paint? Or bloooood?” Remus asked.

Roman chuckled and shook his head. “Whatever you feel looks better.” Roman replied.

Remus hummed as he thought about how to do it. Suddenly, Remus snapped his bloody fingers! “How about I mix some blood INTO the paint! So it looks realistic AND sticks properly!” Remus declared.

Remus shrugged his shoulders. “You can try it. You have a closet full of craft stuff you can use.” Roman mentioned.

Remus gave Roman one last bloody, slightly furry hug. “Thank you Roman! You’re the best!” Remus declared happily before getting up and running to his room.

Roman chuckled and shook his head. What a nutjob. He looked over at Patton, who was sloooowly uncovering his face with the scrapbook. The poor guy looked traumatized beyond belief.

Logan was hanging out with Remus at a nearby park. Remus was casually sitting on a park bench with a stroller filled with a litter of tuxedo kittens. On the cup holder of the stroller was an extra large iced coffee and an abandoned knife and fork. While the kittens were left sleeping in the stroller with a cover over them, Remus was completely devouring a full rotisserie chicken with his bare, greasy hands.

Logan was sitting beside him, holding a fork and taking little bits of the chicken. Though Logan was growing slightly disgusted by Remus’s feral behaviour, Logan was able to maintain a calm, casual facial expression. Though people were staring at Remus with worry and disgust, Logan just smiled and waved at the people as they walked by them.

It was like seeing a polite englishman sitting beside a New Jerseyan! Complete opposites.

When the two of them were mostly alone, Logan slowly leaned over to Remus. “You’re creating quite the reputation here.” Logan whispered.

“I knothw!!” Remus replied proudly, his face fully stuffed with just chicken. The man didn’t even have anything to wash it down besides his iced coffee! Soon, Remus got up, moved the plate of cooked chicken carcass onto the bench, and picked up his Starbucks coffee with his dominant hand. He happily slurped down some of the ice-filled coffee and smiled with his cheeks all bunched up like a chipmunk.

“Imagine Patton seeing you right now. He would lose it.” Logan mentioned.

Remus let out a muffled giggle at that. “Gooth thin’ he’th noth!” Remus reacted, a slight bit of coffee sliding down his chin.

Logan just laughed at that and ate another piece of the chicken. It didn’t take long for Remus to resume scarfing down his chicken while taking sips of iced coffee in between. It was the perfect combination for a protein & caffeine diet.

Eventually, a guy with a black jacket, sunglasses and a large iced coffee of his own, started walking by. “What the fuck is that creature?! And WHY do I WANT ONE?!” they declared to their vest-wearing friend with a red tie.

Remus choked on his iced coffee and bursted out laughing. Logan smirked in amusement and looked up at the jacket boy. “This is Remus. He’s...definitely a strange one.” Logan introduced. “Also single.” Logan muttered.

The jacketed guy smirked and drank more of the iced coffee. “Come here often?” he asked the both of them.

Logan chuckled at that. “Quite often, yes.” he replied.

“Ith’ my ffffavorithe thpot-th!” Remus declared happily.

“Do you two have names?” Logan asked.

The jacket guy nodded. “I’m Remy. And this, my special loving beanie baby over here, is Emile.” they introduced.

“KITTENS!” Emile shouted excitedly, staring at the stroller.

Remus smiled and looked at Emile. “Yup! It’s a stroller filled with kittens.” Remus said proudly.

Emile picked up one of the tuxedo kittens and hugged it close. “It’s soooo CUUUTE!” Emile cooed.

Logan looked at Remus and raised an eyebrow. Remus looked at Logan back and nodded his head. “Would you like to keep it?” Logan asked.

Emile gasped and beamed at them. “REALLY?!” But Emile quickly composed himself. “I-I mean- Are you sure? I didn’t know they were for sale.” Emile admitted.

“They weren’t. But you look very happy with it!” Remus added. “That one’s a boy.” Remus added.

Emile looked at Remus again, still not sure if he should be taking a cat home. Remus nodded his head with an innocent smile. “I insist!” Remus replied.

Emile looked at Logan. “If you’re wondering, they have all been vaccinated from 8 weeks old till their age which is 5 weeks old.” Logan told Emile. “If you would like, we could cover your vaccination costs up until he reaches 4 months old.” Logan offered.

“Oh my gosh that offer sounds lovely! But I can pay for it myself. But could we meet at the veterinary clinic you take them to, so I can meet their vet and sign the adoption papers?” Emile asked.

Logan nodded. “Of course! I’ll give you the address.” Logan replied.

While Logan was doing that, Remus was looking at all the kittens and growing curious. But he was quickly interrupted by a wave in his direction. Remus and Emile’s locked long enough for Emile to mouth the words ‘thank you’ to him. Remus smiled and nodded back. But then: Remus picked up one of the kittens…

Remus just started staring dead into Emile’s eyes, and shoved the cat’s head into his own mouth. Still staring at Emile, he bit down on the cat, killing it instantly and swallowed it whole. Emile’s excitement for the cat quickly faded away and a big, terrified chill ran down Emile’s spine. It was here that Emile realized that Remus was most likely not in the right mind. Emile quickly patted Logan’s shoulder and pointed to Remus. “He- j-j-just- ateacat…” Emile said, struggling to even talk.

Logan looked over at Remus and immediately noticed the hanging tail that was sticking out of Remus’s mouth. Logan sighed. “How in the world are you still hungry after all that chicken?” Logan asked.

Remus laughed. “I just am!”

Emile hesitantly kept the cat they had just been given, and made a mental note to never let Remus hold their cat. EVER.

A good while later, Patton and Janus were cleaning the house while Remus and Roman were coloring in the kitchen. They both had a cup of water each, and one pack of markers laying in front of them at the table to share. Though only Remus was using all the colors due to the boy’s...strange habit of bleaching them and sucking on them.

Remus was currently drawing a blender filled with green gunk mixed with what he assumed to be blood, and something white. Whether it was milk, bone bits, drugs or...something else; no one but Remus could tell you. All they knew was that some of the green gunk was spilling out the top corners of the blender lid.

Meanwhile, Roman was drawing a completely white picture of a gigantic dog surrounding a bunch of tiny people. But the dog was not like Clifford the Big Red Dog. It was a fluffy white pomeranian! And the pomeranian had a...saxophone? It even had the word *Bork* written beside the mouth.

Wait, was that Gabe the Dog?

Remus giggled at the picture of Gabe the dog, and made a little high-pitched ‘BORK’ sound. Roman bursted out laughing at that and made an evil old hag cackle. Remus wheezed at the cackle while Patton was giggling and shaking his head at the two.

Soon, Logan walked into the room with a smirk. “Why do I hear dogs and evil witches in here?” Logan asked.

Remus and Roman both had to stop their coloring and drawing to lean back and laugh their heads off.

Logan sat down at the table as well and continued to read the astronomy book he had walked out with. But Logan quickly closed it as he cringed at the strong smell of bleach in the kitchen. “Patton, you need to stop using so much bleach.” Logan told him.

Patton turned around. “Come on, Logan, it’s not that bad. I didn’t even clean over there!” Patton reacted.

Logan tilted his head. “Are you sure you didn’t? Because It smells like you cleaned the table with it.” Logan told him.

Patton huffed and put his cloth-covered hand on his own hip. “I’m positive, Logan.”

Logan rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the bleachy smell. But it was not easy. Soon, Logan rubbed his finger on the table and smelled it.

Nope. No bleach.

He rubbed his finger on the windows and discovered that there was no bleach used there either. So, Logan looked around. “Where is that bleach smell coming from?” Logan asked as he followed his nose like a composed dog. Logan followed it till he looked down at the cups and markers. Logan sighed. “You weren’t using bleach on the markers again, I hope…” Logan asked Remus.

“Nope! Not today!” Remus replied proudly.

Logan looked at the cups and lifted them up. He smelled Roman’s cup first -much to Roman’s dismay- and placed it down.

Just water.

But then Logan lifted up Remus’s cup and smelled it:

Logan pulled his head back and coughed violently. Then he widened his eyes when he realized that half the water was already drunk!

Logan slammed the cup onto the table. “Remus.” Logan asked calmly.

Remus looked up at Logan with his teeth showing widely. “Yeeeessss?”

Logan cleared his throat. “Do you remember what we taught you about what bleach does to your digestive system?” Logan asked.

Patton gasped and threw his cloth onto the ground. “REMUS!”

Remus stifled a laugh. “Yes. I don’t remember exactly what happens, but I do remember you mentioning...death?” Remus replied.

Logan sighed and rubbed the top of his nose...only for him to quickly move his fingers away from his face out of fear of getting bleach droplets into his eyes. Then, Logan took the cup and dumped the bleach down the sink. “No more drinking bleach, Remus. It is disgusting and it can easily kill you.” Logan ordered.

Remus slowly lifted up a silver flask. “One new thing to learn about!”

Roman widened his eyes. “PATTON! REMUS HAS A FLASK!” Roman shouted.

Patton sprinted to the rescue and took the flask. “What have we told you about alcohol?! Alcohol for you, is strictly off limits! Remember what happened the last time you drank?” Patton ordered.

“The best experience of my LIFETIME?!” Remus declared excitedly.

Logan dumped the cup of water into the sink. “May the orphan children rest in peace.”

Remus bursted out in evil, proud cackles. Patton brought the flask to the sink and dumped out what he assumed to be alcohol. But much to his surprise: it was clear!

...and reeked of bleach.

Logan pulled out a baby bottle, dumped some milk into it and shoved the baby bottle into Remus’s mouth. “Drink up. Flush the bleach out of your system before your stomach and intestines burn.” Logan ordered.

Remus whined and pouted. Roman giggled at the look of a baby bottle in his grown brother’s mouth, and continued to outline the saxophone. “I’m done!” Roman declared, showing off his picture to Patton and Janus.

Remus pulled the baby bottle out of his mouth and showed off his picture as well. “I’m done as well!”

Both Patton, Janus and Logan enjoyed seeing the pictures they drew, and updated the fridge drawings. Patton would eventually scrapbook those pictures and show them off to Thomas.

One day around Halloween time, Roman was looking around for Remus in his room. But he was nowhere to be found. But things soon became more clear once he found a lined page with a creepy-looking drawing on it. Roman giggled and looked around. “Very funny, Remus! I know what your costume is now!” Roman teased.

Roman received no response. So, Roman turned the page around and continued looking around. “Remus, quit being secretive.” Roman ordered. Like he guessed though, Remus didn’t come out.

So, Roman followed the page’s advice and put the page into his pocket. Roman opened a drawer in the room that held a flashlight. He pulled it out, turned it on and started looking around. So far, there was nothing.

He looked around for another page or another clue to Remus’s location. Little did he realize that all he had to do...was look behind him…

Roman suddenly SCREAMED and threw the flashlight into the air! Something had wrapped around his feet and was now lifting him up! Roman shouted and grabbed at any surfaces he could, to get away. “AAAAAH! REMUS?! LET GO!” Roman shouted.

A static noise started filling Roman’s ears and a static-y image of Slenderman started getting closer and closer to Roman. Roman’s fear grew as the faceless being suddenly grew a mouth and teeth, and GROWLED loudly at him.

Next, another pair of tentacles grabbed Roman’s arms and waist, and lifted him upright. Roman gulped and pulled on the restraints, with no avail. He was utterly and truly, fucked.

Quickly, more tentacles summoned themselves from out of nowhere, and started wiggling and fluttering on his armpits, feet and lower back. Roman jumped, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to move away from the tickly tentacles as a wobbly smile grew onto his face. The tentacles wiggled and teased his armpits the most, taking advantage of just how vulnerable they were in this moment.

Roman took one desperate look at the tickling tentacles and threw his head back as the tentacles at the feet, suddenly found his toes! “Hehehehehehehey! Quihihihihit ihihihit Rehehehemuhuhuhus!” Roman giggled.

The tentacles at his lower back, started drawing up and down his spine. This caused Roman to arch and wiggle his back more. But things got even worse the moment four tentacles started tickling both his armpits! Roman squealed loudly and squeezed his fists as laughter and snorts started leaving his mouth! He couldn’t even try to cover up his mouth in any way because his hands were tied! Literally!

Then, everything quickly hit the fan the moment Remus’s tongue reached his ear. Roman guffawed and snorted at that! Roman squealed with laughter! One one hand, all Roman could think was just how disgusting and slimy it felt to have a tongue fluttering and ‘licking’ his ear! But HOLY HECK did it work! It was so much more ticklish than his toes and armpits combined!

Roman snorted again. “LEHEHEHET MEHEHEHEHE GOOOHOHOHO!” Roman begged.

The single tentacle that tickled Roman’s back, started writing letters on his lower back!

[Tickle tickle tickle]

Roman whined and shook his head. How DARE!

[Coochy coochy coo coochy coochy coo]

Roman widened his eyes and tried to tug on his restraints one more time. Of course, he was unsuccessful. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Roman begged loudly.

[No]

Roman shook his head. “COHOHOME OHOHOHOHON MAHAHAHAN!” Roman pleaded.

[Fine]

Roman let out a breath of relief as the tickling tentacles lessened dramatically. But unfortunately, the black tentacle that was writing on Roman’s back, was not gone.

[Wet willy time]

Roman widened his eyes. “W-WAIT-” Roman was interrupted by the evil tongue tickling his ear once again! Roman shrieked loudly and threw his head back with laughs, snorts and the occasional cackles! All the while, the messenger on his lower back was still writing messages to him!

[Surprise!]

Roman shook his head. “IHIHI THOHOHOUGHT YOHOHOU WEHEHEHERE DOHOHONE!” Roman yelled.

[Im not done.] It wrote. [More tickles for Roman]

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and just gave up on trying to get out. There was just no trying to save himself from the clutches of Remus the slenderman tickle monster!

[Tickle tickle Roman]

[Tickle tickle brother]

[sit back. Accept your fate]

Here’s the fanart! 

Remus:

Roman:

(Drawn by a friend of mine)

[arya-skywalker]

Rainy Days (Sanders Sides fanfic)

Prompt: It rains in the dark mindscape when thomas is sad. Janus goes up to tell Patton to cut it out (from the Joan Collective, apply here )

Notes: this started as a joke, then got a little angsty so I just went with it. Young Sides, mom-Deceit.

TW: repression, somewhat morally-grey Sides, animal death, mourning a pet, spiderwebs

~*~

A little rain never hurt anyone, but a lot could kill you.

It had been pouring nonstop for at least three days now. Virgil had locked himself in his room, even moodier than usual with the dreary weather. Remus insisted on playing in the mud— getting mud everywhere— which meant of course that Janus had to supervise. In the cold.

Janus tightened his grip on his umbrella as a gust of wind picked up, his teeth clattering. Unfortunately, even with the umbrella he was soaked through. “Remusss, honey, that’s enough for today,” he said, reaching an extra stretchy arm over to pick up the muddy gremlin. “Let the rain wash off the mud, or you’re taking a bath.”

Remus squirmed. “No bath! Only mud!”

Janus heaved a sigh, gripping him by the collar like a soggy kitten. “You are not trailing mud on the carpet. I jussst cleaned yesterday’sss muck off an hour ago.“

Remus pouted and whined and shook off the mud. Once Janus was convinced they where both clean as could be, he carried Remus inside and snapped the umbrella back into the void.

“Virgil?” Janus called. “I need you down here, please.”

Virgil appeared by the stairs with a huff. “What? You interrupted my existential dread.” He crossed his arms, glaring from under his bangs.

“I need you to watch Remus—“ Janus winced as both of them screamed in protest, then sighed and silenced them both. “It won’t be long, I promise. I’m going to do something about the rain. Watch some movies, play video games, whatever. But no fighting. Clear?” When they both nodded, he released their hands.

Virgil glanced between them, then walked over and tugged on Janus’s cape. “If he acts up, can I.... you know...?” He whispered, making a small web between his palms.

“Mm. Very well. As long as you don’t hurt each other,” Janus said.

Virgil smirked and let the web vanish. “Sweet,” he said.

Remus giggled. “C’mon emo! We’re gonna have fun!”

Janus hugged them both and kissed their foreheads, then left, waiting until he was out of sight before sinking out to Morality’s room.

As expected, it was a mess. Pictures and toys strewn everywhere. Morality was sobbing on the bed, hugging stuffed animals.

Janus cleared his throat. “Morality? May we speak for a moment?”

Morality wiped his eyes and sniffled. “Oh. Um. Hi, kiddo! Whatcha doing here?” He forced a smile and waved.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Drop the act. We’re drowning down there. Thomas is miserable, which means you’re miserable.”

Morality blinked. “Oh. I... umm...“

“Morality. It’s been three days. The poor dog is dead, let him go. Thomas can always adopt another dog.”

“I.... guess so.....” Morality fiddled with the cardigan tied around his shoulders.

“And I’m definitely suggesting you should bury these bad emotions deep deep down so we can get some blessed sunshine—“

“You can do that! Take all the bad emotions away!” Morality brightened at that. “A-and take the bad memories too!” He shoved a pile of photos at Janus. “Thanks, Deceit!“

Janus blinked. “No— wait—“ He sputtered, but Morality pushed him out the door and slammed it in his face.

That could have gone better.

Janus rubbed his brow and sank down to his room. He took a moment to look at the pictures— Thomas with a puppy, Thomas with the dog more grown up, more photos of the dog. They were good memories. There was no need to hide them. Except they were marred by the death of the poor pet.

He sighed and placed them in a safe, locking them away. When Thomas was ready and could think of them without sobbing, Janus would let him see again. It wasn’t forever. Just... a bandaid. A temporary solution.

“RAINBOW!” Both Virgil and Remus shouted in the distance.

So it had worked. The rain was gone. Janus brushed himself off and fixed his hat. Good enough for now. He forced a smile and walked to the dark sides’ commons.

“Hello my lovely gremlins!” Janus said, holding his arms open and bracing himself when the two barreled into him.

“You fixed it! What happened? Were the light sides mean? Is Thomas okay? It’s sunny!” Virgil said in a rush.

“Rainbow means GAY! And treasure! I wanna go kill a leprechaun and steal it’s gold! C’mon c’mon c’mon!” Remus said at the same time.

Janus laughed softly, hugging them both. “Yessss, I fixed it. No, I am not hurt. Thomas is fine. And going for a walk in the ssun ssoundss wonderful,” he said, guiding them to the door.

There was indeed a rainbow. It mocked him with its beauty. The sun was shining and damn did it feel good! He took a deep breath of the fresh air, allowing himself a smile.

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!” Remus chittered.

“We’re not really gonna kill a leprechaun are we?” Virgil whispered.

Janus held their hands firmly. “Now, now. Don’t let go of my hand or the light sides will kidnap you!” It was a bluff, but it always seemed to work. He walked with his two adoptive sons, enjoying the sun while it lasted.

[ironwoman359]

Thoughts on Remus Sanders

So the new video came out and I have a lot of thoughts on a lot of different things, but for this post, let’s talk about our new resident trash man, Remus Sanders, aka The Duke, aka the Dark Side of Creativity. 

Remus’s Role (who or what is he?)

First off, Remus’s ‘Side Title’ as it were is definitely Creativity. He is not simply “Intrusive Thoughts.” That is not his function, intrusive thoughts are a result of his function, an area of thinking that he is responsible for. Like Roman, he embodies Creativity and the Imagination, but unlike Roman, he deals almost exclusively in ‘dirty,’ mature, dark, or disturbing ideas. Sure, the video was about intrusive thoughts specifically, but that’s not all that Remus does. He said himself twice, once in song and once in regular speaking, that he wants Thomas to explore more mature themes in his videos and to be more “realistic” with his creations. So while the other “dark sides” like Deceit and Anxiety (maybe Paranoia?) have different functions than the “light sides,” Remus and Roman are two sides that embody the same trait: Creativity. 

As Thomas said, the Duke and the Prince literally wear black and white, because his relationship with his imagination while he was growing up led to Roman encompassing the “good” parts and Remus the “bad” parts. Both ‘sides’ of creativity are important over all, but Thomas specifically gave Roman, the light, the positive sunshine rainbow unicorn side, more import than the dark, the twisted macabre disturbing side. Hence Roman is a Prince, while Remus is merely a Duke, a lesser rank of nobility. 

Remus’s Goals (so what does he want?)

Like Roman, Remus wants Thomas to create things, things that he can be proud of. And more SPECIFICALLY, he wants Thomas to be remembered, to have a legacy. Roman, you will note, wants this too. All sides, after all, want what they believe is best for Thomas, but they all have different views of what that looks like AND of how to get it. And Remus believes that the darker sides of creativity that he encompasses are the way for Thomas to get that notoriety he craves. Just look at the way Remus talks (or sings) about himself in relationship to Thomas’s content:

“If you really wanna challenge your viewership, then you need to stop limiting me.” 

“If you want the spectrum A-Z you’ll need a little help from me.”  

(in reference to Thomas only wanting bright and happy things in his content) ”Hey Prude, your art is Bad.”

“What will our legacy be? Will you even have one? How about this: you get buck naked on camera and self immolate to Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off! That’ll leave an impression!” 

Remus wants what ever creator/performer wants: he wants to be remembered. But unlike Roman, he holds no reservations about how they get there. 

But Remus ALSO a rather chaotic force in general, and you get the feeling that he really just wants to have fun...unfortunately, what’s fun for him is not very fun for most people, Thomas included. Remus is more like the way many of us characterized Deceit at his first introduction: likely to be cruel for no reason. Because it’s fun! Right?! 

Roman vs. Remus...why?

I have a headcanon that Patton (or Patton’s influence) is largely responsible for the development of Remus and Roman as separate entities, actually.  During their conversation about Just Like Heaven, Patton mentioned that a happy ending “makes good cinema.” And...no, it doesn’t. Objectively, good cinema, good ART is not dependent on whether or not it is happy. Now, whether or not it is happy is certainly a valid indicator of whether or not YOU as an individual like it. But not it’s objective quality. And that’s what has happened with Roman and Remus, anything that Thomas’s Moral Code (again, Patton himself or his general influence) deemed as “bad” or “wrong” got shoved into Remus, while Roman kept all the good parts for himself. 

When you look at it that way, it’s no wonder that Remus spends so much of his time sending intrusive thought’s Thomas’s way. (Yes, intrusive thoughts are fairly common, but not everyone has them, and not always to the severity that Character Thomas does) That’s basically his ONLY creative outlet, as everything else has been given to Roman. And why it makes sense that he is desperate to be more involved in Thomas’s creative process. Intrusive thoughts are all fine and well, but if Thomas isn’t ACTING on them, then Remus is effectively not being listened to, which as we all know is every single side’s greatest source of frustration. 

His Logo (this is a pure guess based on my own theories and observation, but it’s fun to think about.)

It’s been theorized before that the “dark sides” have something animal themed in their clothing and/or appearances. Deceit’s is obvious the two headed snake, and Virgil’s is largely thought to be a raccoon, and if we look closely, Remus seems to fit this theory. His animal is some sort of tentacled sea creature, as evidenced by the thumbnail of the video, his green coloring, and the belt buckle he wears. Some have suggested a squid or octopus, but this IS Creativity we’re talking about here...it could be Something Else. Something a little more...creative. 

“Whoa, you guys are acting fishier than the Kraken’s crack.” -Roman, timestamp 3:43. 

I propose that his ‘animal’ is a Kraken, a giant sea monster known for causing great destruction, killing sailors and dragging ships down into the depths of the sea. Sort of like how our Dear Old Duke seems to take pleasure in being destructive towards both himself and others and dragging Thomas’s thoughts down into the depths of depravity? Huh? Maybe? Imagine a logo similar to Roman’s, but instead of an idyllic castle, it’s a giant sea monster. Perhaps reaching it’s tentacles around a ship? Or perhaps looking a little sleeker and going for something like the Hydra logo in Marvel? I dunno, it’s fun to think about! 

The Rainbow Theory (no, I’m never gonna let this one go)

Remus’s existence, and more specifically, his color palate, only reinforce the Rainbow Theory as being canon. Thomas is Full Rainbow all the time, and each of his sides encompasses one color on that spectrum. You have Red (Roman), Orange (a yet to be discovered “dark side”), Yellow (Deceit), Green (Remus), Blue (Patton), Indigo (Logan), and Violet (Virgil). 

One of the reasons I really like the rainbow theory is that it allows for a sense of balance between Thomas and his sides. I like to imagine it like this: There are three “light” or “good” sides, (Roman, Logan, and Patton) and three “dark” or “bad” sides (Deceit, the Duke/Remus, and an unnamed, Orange party). I use quotes on these labels because arguably, any trait could be used for good or for bad, and no side embodies this more than Virgil. Violet, the odd little shadowling out. The side that is now canonically CONFIRMED to have once been considered one of “the Others,” but who now has an equal seat at the discussion table. The side, if you will, that is the tipping point on the scale between whether or not Thomas is a “good person?” Ah, but that’s a theory for another post ;) 

If you combine the rainbow theory with a color wheel, Remus’s appearance also all but confirms some theories that we’ve had about “dark” sides in the past: they are opposites to/extensions of/foils for a corresponding “light” side. It’s no secret who Remus’s corresponding side is, both he AND Roman are literally both creativity. And what is Red’s complimentary color on the color wheel?

Green. 

While it’s harder to tell who Deceit’s foil is, since the blue/indigo and the yellow/orange parts of most color wheels you look at are more blurred, but I’m leaning towards Logan, the darker blue, the indigo, being the foil to Deceit’s Yellow, and Patton’s lighter blue being complimentary with the Orange Side yet to be revealed, since the light blue is closer to the green and the orange is closer to the red. 

This also solidifies the idea that I have that Virgil himself has no foil. I see some people suggest he could be Logan’s foil, but I honestly think that Logan’s foil is either Deceit or Mr. Orange, and the Patton’s is whoever Logan’s isn’t. Virgil’s trait doesn’t necessarily have a perfect foil...and purple in particular has no opposite color that isn’t already sort of taken by one of the other three “light” colors. But I digress, this post is about Remus, not Virgil. I just like talking about the rainbow theory, I think it’s neat! 

Other, smaller observations (mostly just fun things I noticed/liked about his character)

As much as they are opposites in ways, Remus shares many mannerisms with Roman, from his expressions to his vocal ticks to his gestures. 

Literally less than a minute after he first appeared on screen, he broke out into an entire Disney Villain style musical number. (no really, he appeared at 6:00 and started singing at 6:53)

I sort of mentioned this earlier, but he is not only responsible for the darker parts of imagination, but also clearly things like childish potty humor and sexual innuendo. For THOMAS, this is a “bad” thing banished to it’s own separate side, but for some people, that kind of humor doesn’t cross the line. Joan, for instance, has both a raunchier sense of humor and darker sense of humor at times than Thomas, as holding up a disembodied corpse prop’s middle finger is, yeah, TOTALLY something they would do without Remus’s influence. 

He cannot be insulted through traditional means, as he takes them as compliments. It is only through him being discredited/weakened by Logan’s words that we see him having any sort of negative reaction to the others. 

Again, a point to get more into detail with another post, but he was particularly interested in beating down Virgil specifically, and in ways that seemed less relevant to what was going on like his taunts to the others. Just like with Deceit in the courtroom, he clearly knows Virgil well enough to get under his skin, and he relishes doing so. 

The trash boi does not sit still, if he’s not engaged by what’s happening, he’ll find some other thing to occupy himself with, such as picking his nose or eating deodorant. 

Like Deceit before him, he gets huffy when he doesn’t have his way, and then does his best to just be a general inconvenience (read also: a dick) to Thomas if he can’t be actually listened to. 

That’s all for now! Thanks for reading <3

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 3,998 Warnings: Bad Teachers, Scorn of Peers, Violence Against Golems and Soldiers, Weapons, Negative Self-Talk, Negative Self Image, Playful Threats Characters: Roman, Thomas, Virgil Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Vibing™ too hard

Chapter 23

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

   Roman sighed and leaned back on the bleachers. It was dodgeball day, it seemed. He wasn’t the biggest fan of being hit by something unexpectedly, so not having to participate was relieving. Roman didn’t want to do homework or read a book to pass the time, like they allowed him to, because it would make him look like a major nerd to a ton of dudes with testosterone pumping and that was just bullying central. 

   He couldn’t use his phone during school hours, though. He’d just do it anyway if the gym instructor wasn’t watching. She wasn’t a fan of the doctor’s note at all and continued shooting glances at him. As if he would mysteriously heal or something equally miraculous. They weren’t all mean glances. Mostly just annoyed. He got the same from most of the other people in his class. He’d probably also be jealous of sitting out on dodgeball, too, if he wasn’t already.

   The gym teacher seemed miffed about the fact that the physician’s note was open-ended since Roman had to be cleared for exercise by a doctor. It was the same for any broken bone, but without a cast, people had trouble believing it seemed. This wasn’t Roman’s first rodeo with broken bones or anything. She was vexed she’d have to print up packets to serve as make-up classwork. Roman wasn’t aware you learned anything in gym class other than suffering, so that was new. 

   He wished he had the packets to work on already. She wasn’t doing anything other than lying back and ignoring a bunch of teen boys pummeling each other with dodgeballs, so it’s not like she couldn’t go into her office and print them up. Maybe she was attempting to make Roman stew in frustration for not taking part. If she was, she was succeeding fantastically. Roman was jittery and pissed off and generally in a terrible mood.

   Fighting slouching in bleachers was surprisingly difficult. He just craved to lie down and take a nap, but the classmates would hate him more if he did. So Roman persevered and watched from the bleachers, catching himself slouching when the soreness in his side got worse. He positioned himself up high enough up that he was out of the danger zone of dodgeballs, but that meant the people against the wall could see him clearly. 

   He received bitter looks from people who were out and sitting on the sidelines on the gymnasium floor. He didn’t understand the ire since they were relaxing, too. Roman would personally rather take a dodgeball to the chest than a steel toe boot, but life just didn’t work out like that. He tried to elevate his feet while he watched. He wouldn’t get much of a chance to raise them throughout today, and they hurt. It was still better than staying home again. At least they were finally well enough that he could walk.

   It was Roman’s bitter luck that Nolan was in his PE class and kept shooting him glares. This period was taking him forever. Nolan seemed to get progressively more annoyed at him for whatever reason. Roman sighed and decided not to look back. He didn’t prefer to accidentally start some kind of glare war. Roman’s left foot tapped nervously as he stared at the gym ceiling, waiting for the minutes to pass.

   When he noticed himself fidgeting, he was supposed to wear the gloves, but there was no way he was ostracising himself even further by doing that. He didn’t care that he technically agreed to a compromise over it not wearing them in school. He stood out like rainbow tulip in a dead lawn with gloves and a T-shirt. They weren’t as obvious with his jacket, but his jacket was white and the brown leather just contrasted it. Roman just couldn’t find a way to make it work. He had shoved the gloves deep in his backpack instead.

   He checked the massive wall clock in the gym as he carded his fingers through his shaggy hair. Roman had a bit of time to pass until history class. He had just sort of stewed in anger for most of the period, but his brain must have finally ranted out what it wanted to say for Roman to be capable of thinking about something else. He knew better than to challenge the times his head was obsessed with something by now. It was just easier to wait it out. Just another 10ish minutes of chilling on the bleachers to go. He was so bored it hurt, like a painful pressure gripping his brain and trying to open it up.

   Roman lolled his head back to the ceiling and forced his mind to drift instead of fighting it. Something fun. Something cool. Fighting off an army atop a dragon. A spectacular sword. The dragon’s flames were acid green and melted everything instantly. Roman leaned back on his hands on the next row up of bleachers. 

   He was fighting the magically animated golems of an evil tyrant. He fired a crossbow to protect the dragon as it decimated the golems below. The great iridescent black dragon was trying to charge up a blast when Roman was nearly thrown off of it by flying machinations that expelled ice beams from their torsos. He was able to catch on to the tail and pull himself back up, deflecting ice beams with his sword. The dragon charged up its power in time thanks to Roman’s defense, and the machinations melted into puddles far below.

   The dragon shot Roman a look, and Roman understood in an instant. The mighty winged beast flew close to the earth, and Roman tumbled expertly off the dragon. Roman and his trusty sword ploughed through the golem army, swinging wildly and protecting himself with well-timed blows and using the enemies as his shields. Roman approached the castle by foot as the dragon cleared out further golems around him. The army was dwindling, and they were successful.

   Roman turned his eyes to the looming castle ahead. He had to stop this madness. Roman reached out and the dragon’s great claws swooped down and grasped Roman’s arm and lifted him from the field of decimated golem parts. The dragon flew Roman over the moat and past the raised drawbridge, but ballista prevented the dragon from going any further in. Roman was jettisoned towards the outer castle wall to get him closer to his target. He rolled as he landed on between the crenelations, skidding to a stop to stand and fight the soldiers. 

   Humans were arming the ballistae and defending the doors, and Roman couldn’t bring himself to kill, so he sheathed his blade and instead relied on his legs to do the talking. Roman leaped about and kicked soldiers off the machinery, knocking them out in a few precise hits to disable them. The guards at the door brandished blades at Roman, but he reached for his crossbow and fired a well-placed shot at each, pinning the soldiers by their clothes to give Roman just enough time to breach the doors.

   The guards inside weren’t so easy, though. Roman had to take out his trusty sword once more to defend himself. He knew the evil sorcerer’s magic compelled them to fight, and they didn’t deserve death for the mistakes of another. Roman did his best to take the higher ground and send soldiers toppling down the stairs in the tower. He hoped he hadn’t harmed them too severely, but perhaps once this was all over healers could come help mend those Roman had to battle off.

   Roman ascended the stairs into an upper corridor. Massive banners billowed in the wind that blustered through the hall. The magic was stronger here. Roman had to resist the powerful effects that caused his head to swim in the aura alone. Things would be worse in the inner chambers. His boots clicked loudly against the cold stone floors as he dashed down the hallway. This area was suspiciously empty of soldiers and the smell was strange. It felt almost electrically charged. Roman ran into a dead end. This couldn’t be the wrong way, could it?

   He examined the hall further as he turned around. The walls were adorned with massive tapestries and sconces fitted with gems. The waste of the kingdom’s resources alone was ample reason to dethrone this monster. But his use of the forbidden magics propelled Roman forward to do what had to be done before the entire kingdom fell to ruin from the sinister arts infecting the lands.

   Banners and tapestries littered this hall, but a strangely blank wall between two sconces caught Roman’s attention as he passed. Roman wasn’t practiced, but he felt what he was looking for. He reached deep within himself and forced out the raw power within. With unrefined powers, he could do nothing skilled, but he could break a barrier. The illusion shattered and a strident cracking sound shook the hallway. One minor success wasn’t enough to celebrate, though. Roman was here for one reason alone. He scaled the stairs that were obscured by the now broken barrier two at a time as he pushed deeper into the belly of the beast.

   The staircase narrowed and Roman sprinted with all of his being to escape the shrinking passage, staying ahead of the walls cinching shut behind him. This dark sorcery could try to deflect him, but Roman was quicker. He raced up the stairs and cleared into a new chamber just as it was becoming too narrow to traverse. Roman stumbled in, his bearings shaken by the sheer intensity of the tainted aura encasing the chamber. This would be his most challenging battle yet.

   He straightened his back and locked eyes with the dark sorcerer upon his despicable throne. The entire room shook with the sorcerer’s booming, sinister laugh. Roman drew his blade and stood his ground. He wouldn’t show weakness now. Now that the final battle was here, he had to stay strong. He couldn’t afford an ounce of fear as he slowly approached the villain’s throne as the ominous wind howled all around them. Then the bell rang and Roman tumbled back on his bench from the shock. Shit.

   Roman grabbed his backpack and left as fast as he could safely stand down the bleacher stairs. The students down on the wood gymnasium floor weren’t familiar, however. And even the wrong age group. Son of a bitch, did he miss lunch? Stupid ridiculously short lunch periods! He was late for class. Goddammit, he didn’t even get to defeat the evil sorcerer!

   He wasn’t surprised nobody told him or anything, but he couldn’t exactly be a speed demon on his healing feet. Roman knew if he stepped the wrong way he’d get stuck at home a few days again and he wasn’t risking it. He also didn’t need detention for running. Roman went as hastily as he could manage to his history class. 

   He’d rather be back in the castle than history, but he could never get a daydream back once he lost it. That meant that particular kingdom was doomed to fall to the taint of the forbidden magic under the rule of a tyrant. He was at least lucky he ended up daydreaming instead of sitting there and being bored for the whole period.

   Roman pushed the classroom door open as quietly as he could achieve, but a classroom’s worth of eyes landed on him as he arrived. He flinched at all the unwanted attention and headed for his seat.

   “Detention, Mr. Reinhart,” The teacher drolled as Roman slid into his desk. Son of a bitch. Roman was fated to detention either way. He had so much homework though, it wouldn’t make a difference if he started it in after-school detention or if he did it at home. Roman may as well do it today, just to have it out of the way. 

   The teacher’s voice droned on as Roman got out the things listed on the board and struggled to follow the lecture. It felt like the words went right into gibberish land when he attempted to focus on them, so Roman had to find the careful balance between focused and distracted without slipping into another daydream every class. It was annoying as hell.

   He tapped his fingers on his thigh and started doodling stars in the margins of his notes. Other than clearly jumping in the middle of a lecture, he could start to try to pinpoint things that sounded important to take notes on. People, years, locations, quick event summaries, and concepts that were generally interesting. Teachers liked to use kinds of things those on tests. Missing part of the lecture was nothing new for Roman, anyway. His notes were always a scattered mess out of context, but if he managed to label an overarching category, he could usually understand them.

   Roman was sketching a bobcat jumping between the stars when the bell finally rang again. He traded his homework for a detention slip at the teacher’s desk and left the classroom in a huff. That dragon with the awesome super hot flames would totally eat that teacher for breakfast. He wished to know more about those tapestries, too. He had lots more notes to fail to take and pages of homework to turn in, though, even if he could get a daydream back.

   If Patton didn’t help him on Sunday Roman didn’t think he could have possibly done all the homework he had gotten over the 3 days he was out. It was like the school was trying to kill students with mountains of paper. How many trees did academia kill every year, anyway? Probably a horrific number he shouldn’t look up and depress himself further with. He couldn’t stop thinking about that daydream. Those golems made such a cool noise when they died, damnit. He’d probably give up and attempt to bring the daydream back next class.

—

   Roman sighed with relief when his eyes met with the couch as he arrived at the house that afternoon. His feet were sore as shit and he wanted to put them up more than anything. Stupid fresh skin, not hardened to the brutal reality of life yet. He felt it every time the skin on his foot bent. 

   He slid his backpack under the coffee table so no one would trip over it and kicked off his shoes to lay back on the couch. Bed might be better, but couch . Sure, he seemed like he lived there lately, but right now home was wonderful. Roman buried his face under a throw pillow and sighed with relief as blood shifted out of his feet and he was no longer opposing gravity to keep a straight spine. Good posture was hard.

   “Roman?” Thomas asked, and it sounded like he came into the living room from his office. “Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you were. You didn’t answer your texts,” He said, sounding concerned. Whoops. He felt a little bad for worrying Thomas.

   “Sorry, after school detention,” Roman said plainly, flipping his hand. “Hadn’t taken my phone off silent yet,” He explained from behind the cushion.

   “Detention? For what?” Thomas asked curiously.

   “I was late to history,” Roman responded blithely as he flopped his arm loosely off the couch.

   “Because you couldn’t move quickly enough? Those heartless-” Thomas sounded surprisingly pissed. He’d seen Thomas being irate before, but this was new and a little scary, if he was honest with himself. He knew it wasn’t about him , but all angry adults made him want to run. He needed to cut Thomas off.

   “I was late because I was an idiot and spaced out waiting for gym to be over, not because I couldn’t get there on time in the stupid 8 minutes they give you,” Roman interjected quickly. Thomas settled down fast, thank god, and just looked concerned again. He was used to ‘concerned’ from Thomas. That was fine. Roman settled down again, sinking the tension from his muscles back into the couch. He was hungry and thirsty but didn’t feel like getting up. He didn’t even feel like getting up to play games. Though he had at least another hour of homework and shouldn’t play anyway, or he’d forget to do it.

   “Were you-” Thomas started and Roman had a feeling he knew where this was going.

   “I was fine. I was just daydreaming and didn’t hear the first bell go off,” Roman cut him off to explain.

   “How did you not hear ?” Thomas asked, bordering on disbelief and befuddlement.

   “Daydreaming, remember?” Roman reminded him, unsure why Thomas was confused. Had he never gotten caught up in a daydream before? It happened to Roman every few days, it seemed.

   “And nobody told you?” Thomas asked, furrowing his eyebrows. What kind of school did Thomas go to where people looked out for you? Geez.

   “I’m lucky I didn’t get pelted with a dodgeball. It’s fine. The detention is already done, and I did some homework in it,” Roman shrugged lazily. “Detention isn’t much of a punishment when you have nothing better to do. There was a stoner in there just doing zen finger crochet for the whole hour. It was amazing. I think I learned how to do it just by watching him. I’ve only ever used a hook,” Roman said, still feeling very impressed by how he didn’t stop or do literally anything else. Roman’s gesturing knocked the throw partially off his face and he didn’t bother to move it back.

   “I… suppose that’s a good way to look at it. Is there something we can get so you can have more fun at home?” Thomas proposed, sounding awkward. Roman had no idea what he could feel awkward about, though, and he certainly wasn’t giving Thomas any money-spending ideas.

   “And make detention suck worse for the next time I mess up?” Roman lilted airily and let out a single dark laugh.

   “ Roman ,” Thomas responded firmly, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows. He had a surprisingly intense gaze for a dumb joke.

   “What? It was a joke,” Roman replied dryly with a small huff.

   “I don’t appreciate that you made the assumption that you’ll inevitably mess up,” Thomas sounded upset and shook his head lightly, looking pointedly at Roman.

   “Well, it’s the one constant in my universe, so why not embrace it?” Roman sighed and flipped his hand dismissively close to the floor, feeling too lazy to move more than that.

   “ Roman ,” Thomas chided. Roman rolled his eyes that were partially skewed by the pillow.

   “Fine, whatever. I don’t need anything. I’m sorry, that was in poor taste or something,” Roman conceded. He was too tired to argue.

   “Why are you shaking? I didn’t scare you, did I?” Thomas asked quickly in a concerned tone. Roman furrowed his eyebrows and threw off the throw pillow to look at his hand.

   “Oh, huh,” Roman commented blithely, watching his hand slightly tremble. “No, you didn’t startle me. I’m okay, I’m just fu-frickin’ tired. That happens often, I don’t know why. I assume it’s my crap sleep,” Roman explained and his hand sagged back down.

   “Good catch, kid,” Thomas chuckled weakly. “I’ll make you some tea, maybe that will help?” Thomas said, not sounding sure but hopeful nonetheless.

   “You don’t need to do anything for me, like I said it just kind of… happens,” Roman shrugged and laid his arm over his eyes.

   “I’ll make myself some tea, too,” Thomas said lightly and headed to the kitchen. Roman huffed, but he wouldn’t mind some tea. He could make it himself without bothering Thomas, but if Thomas was already doing it for himself, then maybe that wasn’t a big deal and he could let it go.

   Something was unsettling about laying his arm over his eyes, so he returned it to limp noodle status and stared at the ceiling instead. He wondered how Remus was doing. He also wondered what Virgil was doing holed up in his room again. Virgil had that laptop. Maybe he did something on that all day. Being allowed to use the TV here was awesome, but Roman got the draw of hiding in your room with the door closed. The living room was open and a central part of the residence. Lying around in the living room for nearly a week made him much more comfortable here, though. Thomas and Patton were worrywarts, but they were… nice. Being out here was okay sometimes. He didn’t want to push it, or anything.

   Thomas came back out into the living room and slid a mug of tea on the side table near where Roman was laying and he sat down nearby with his mug, holding it in his hands and looking like he was sniffing it. Roman caught a whiff of the tea while he passed, and it smelled like vanilla and spices, which smelled relaxing.

   “I feel like playing something kind of silly. Do you want to join me?” Thomas looked over to Roman with a small smile.

   “Um, yeah, sure,” Roman nodded and slowly shifted himself to sit up on the couch again, putting his feet up and sitting sideways. “I’ll go lay in your office, or something, you don’t have to stay out here to watch me,” Roman offered nervously. He had fun playing with Thomas last time, and Thomas knew when to stop so Roman wouldn’t end up playing forever on accident and forget his homework.

   “No, I hit a roadblock with writing. I need to take a break before I fry my brain. We cook stuff together in this game, it’s kind of fast-paced but it should be fun,” Thomas responded brightly, getting up to grab the controllers. “The game is kind of hard with just two, so inviting Virgil might help. Will you text him?” Thomas asked, slipping out another controller from the charging station. He passed off a joycon to Roman with a smile. Roman nodded and invited Virgil to play with them.

   “Do you think he wants to?” Roman asked carefully.

   “It never hurts to ask. It’s nice to feel included even if he’s busy with something,” Thomas said, settling down on the couch again. That was a nice thought, but Roman didn’t like it when people shot him down when he invited them to things. Roman watched his phone uneasily while he waited for a response. Virgil normally texted back quickly. Virgil sent back a thumbs up and came down the stairs a moment later.

   ‘I will kick your ass,’ Virgil signed with a smug smile, backing up into the couch and climbing up to the top. Thomas tossed him a joy-con and smiled brightly.

   “Okay, one sec,” Thomas said and straightened his hair while the game loaded. “Cool. Pick your characters here. Make sure they look different enough you don’t get confused. Patton had that problem,” Thomas chuckled. Virgil picked a vampire, Roman chose a dragon, and Thomas picked a unicorn. Roman was amused they all chose supernatural avatars. Virgil stared at the loading screen in confusion for a moment where it showed the map.

   ‘Wait, co-op?’ Virgil fingerspelled and narrowed his eyes at Roman. Roman held up his hands and shrugged.

   “What’s wrong, Virgil?” Thomas asked, noticing Virgil’s glower.

   “I suppose I should have specified this wasn’t a versus game,” Roman replied, glancing between Virgil and Thomas and chewed his lip.

   “It’s fun, just give it a shot. A few levels and we can switch to a fighting game if you don’t like it,” Thomas offered. Virgil considered it for a second and nodded in agreement, turning toward the TV and looking intense. Roman liked that compromise, as well. He hadn’t played a fighting game in a long time and couldn’t wait to show Virgil he’d need a lot more than determination to beat him.

Personal Taglist: @bunny222 @elizabutgayer​ @prinxietyforever @kanene-yaaay-o-retorno @the-sympathetic-villain @croftersjam15 @ollyollyoxinfree @xytiiko

the taglist repository:

High school:  @dragonwithproblems @starlight-era @averykedavra  @potatsanderssides

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Hurt/Comfort:  @callboxkat @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123

Roman-Centric:  @smileyzs  @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd

Fostering AU:  @i-am-not-a-dinner-roll

literally everything sanders sides:  @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun  @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven  @ananonsplace

[callsign-bunnie]

Dependencies pt 1

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Pairing: Analogical (Anxiety x Logic) Warnings: dark themes. You guys know me by now. Virgil’s anxious thoughts are stated. Allusions to sex. (Lust mention.) Food mention. Notes before going in: those who have been following me know by now that I am uh... not all sunshine and rainbows when it comes to my writing. My stuff can get pretty heavy and often pretty dark. However, any trigger warnings will be tagged. And if you ask me, I will tag specific non-general triggers in any future chapters or works. If you simply don’t want to see a fic in general, I would suggest blacklisting the name, which will be in the tags. Thank you. Summary: Logan is very neat and controlled. Virgil is the opposite. Logan, 30, is the leader of a well known underground crime network, though he specifically has managed to remain anonymous, very few knowing his identity. Virgil, 23, on the other hand, is an artist who hates talking to people and has chronic anxiety. Virgil and Logan are thrown in each other's paths when Virgil gets Logan as his professor in the math class Logan uses as a cover identity. (And guilty pleasure but he’ll never admit that.) Already, Logan is... intrigued.

Sometimes, our darkest secrets aren't the ones we hide the most. For Logan, possibly his lightest secret was the one he hid the most. To quickly raise in the ranks, he had to give an appearance of being cold. Unfeeling. Sociopathic. And while yes, he could be considered a sociopath, he could feel some things. Anger. Love. Lust. Happiness. As much as Logan tried to hide this secret, the feelings were drugs for him, just as addicting as Heroin or Cocaine. And anything that sparked these feelings was considered precious to him. He needed it.

However, Logan was incredibly intelligent. This was perhaps how he managed to keep himself from gaining a... dependence. And perhaps how he rose so fast in the ranks. He'd learned by now to never do his own dirty work and to stay detached from it, as well. Lest whoever does it is stupid enough to be caught. Many of his higher-ups had not learned this and of course paid the price for it, once the police caught on. Another lesson he'd learned from observing his higher-ups was to never leave a paper trail. Of course, keep track, but always have a fail-safe. Logan had taken to keeping his documents in a barrel that one could simply throw a match in and light it up. He'd also learned not to trust the internet unless using some kind of code. Unfortunately, lackeys were not good at recognizing and remembering codes. So, he just left all of his business to over throw away phones and in business. Maybe requests and commissions could be taken over the internet, but through nothing that could be traceable and he was always sure to keep his interactions vague, going through a lackey who typed differently so even that couldn't be tracked. And possibly the most important thing he'd learned; have an excellent cover. His being a math professor. He was seen as dorky by his students. No one would ever even suspect him of being who he was.

Of course, maintaining of these self-imposed rules required immense discipline. Possibly even an obsession with order and control. Fortunately, Logan had both of those qualities.

Virgil was the opposite. While Virgil was clever, he wasn't very academic. And his darkest secrets were the ones he kept deepest inside himself. Virgil also had a problem with feeling too much. All of his life, he'd been considered too emotional. Too... anything, really. He'd been told this many times. He figured by this point that if he was too much for people, he might as well not bother them. Other people never usually had anything interesting to contribute, anyway. He was also incredibly out of order.

His room was usually a disaster. And he managed to trip over everything. You'd think this would lead him to keep the floor clean, however, he just didn't care enough to bother. He also didn't care to bother cooking, so he'd become accustomed to eating ramen and anything microwaveable. And take out, when he could afford it. He didn't have a job, however, he received money from his parents and an allowance from what was left of his college fund and then later some weird source? On to that, later.

His parents weren't wealthy, however, and his college fund's remains were not grand. So, he sometimes had to go without a meal or two. Whatever, though. It wasn't a big deal to him. He barely thought about it.

Virgil had taken up art to keep from thinking about certain things. It was much easier to ignore issues if he was focusing on lines and color schemes, instead. Art was also a way to release pent up frustration, sadness, even happiness. You'd think happiness couldn't be pent up but when you talk to literally no one, well... it happens. So, he'd found an outlet. A relief. And just as emotions were intoxicating to Logan, art was just as intoxicating to Virgil. Granted, he wasn't making art most of the time, but he was usually thinking about it. Plotting out pieces he wanted to make, deciding where to fit yet another piece on his wall, what color fit what he was feeling, etc. Honestly, the thoughts alone seemed to help at this point, allowing him an outlet where there wasn't usually one

.Virgil stumbled into Logan's sight when he went to his first math class. Stumbled being literal, as Virgil almost tripped and hit his head on the fire extinguisher by the door. Luckily, he was early, always terrified of being late to a class due to having to walk in and everyone watch him walk to his seat. The idea filled him with dread. He hated it. So he made sure to be early to each class. Being early also had the perk of getting to choose his seat. Which he quite enjoyed. He almost always chose a seat in the back, however, math was a difficult subject for him, so he begrudgingly sat in the almost front. Okay, really, he usually sat in the middle of the class. People in the back were usually considered to be angsty, in the front to be go-getters. And nobody thought about those in the middle. It was the perfect place. But in college, with large class sizes, sitting in the middle often meant being unable to focus for Virgil. And since he already struggled with math, he usually decided it would be best for him to sit closer to the front.

He was already dreading this class, however. As he knew he would likely be close to failing it if he didn't ask for help. He'd struggled enough the year before. This year would likely be the same, if not worse. So he was already gearing himself up to have to talk, blegh, to his teacher in order to ask for tutoring options. Much fun was in store for him this year, because then he'd have to talk to whoever was tutoring him. Yay. Oh well, he was taking two art classes this year, so at least he had that. He was already finding himself daydreaming about them. They were independent art classes, which basically meant he got to create whatever he dreamed about creating.

So at least the year wouldn't be so bad, right? And he was... mostly fine in all of his other classes. So no tutoring there. Just math would be difficult.

As expected, he spent most of the class way behind and struggling to comprehend what the professor was saying. The professor was semi-friendly. Was mostly that dry professor who was kind but you could tell they wouldn't take your shit. Virgil tended to like those professors, as they usually left him alone, unable to remember every student. Unfortunately, once Virgil would make his presence known to this professor, he was sure they would remember him and he'd be stuck dealing with them until the end of the year. Yay, again. At least this professor wasn't a fast talker. That would be a struggle if they were. Well, more of a struggle, anyway. He was able to catch some detail, so it definitely helped. He'd taken to writing, in messy inconsistent shorthand, what the professor was saying to try to organize later. He never really got around to later, but hey, he was trying, at least, right?

His anxiety got worse and worse throughout the class, and needless to say, this was not helping his focus. He was dreading having to ask for help. So it was making his anxiety flip out. However, he managed to swallow it, tapping out his racing heartbeat on his stomach in his pocket as he went up to the professor's desk at the end of class. "Professor? Can I talk to you?"

"Of course, Mr..."

"Storm. I'm Virgil Storm. I um... Well, I have a tendency to struggle in Math and I was hoping you could have any tutoring recommendations?" Virgil asked, almost too quiet, but luckily he was heard.

The professor nodded and seemed to glance Virgil up and down. "I do offer tutoring hours of my own. I typically teach until five and I offer to tutor between 5 and 9. However, I will only allow up to an hour, since I'm assuming tutoring will have to be a regular thing?"

Virgil turned red and nodded in answer to the question. "Yes, unfortunately." He was managing to slow his tapping, though. Which was good.

His professor laughed, suddenly, and then stated,  "goodness, you don't have to keep standing. Sit and we'll discuss a time to meet up."

Virgil turned red again and pulled up a chair, sitting in it and slouching slightly. "Since this is my last class of the day, I think tutoring at five would be helpful... So I could just hang around here, you know?" And his tapping sped back up, worried the professor would think that was a dumb idea.

"That would work out. I suppose it might help you to remember, as well." He nodded.

Virgil relaxed and nodded again. "That too. I'm sorry, I forgot your name..."

"Oh, of course. It's Logan Fairling. It's fine if you just call me Dr. Fair, however." Dr. Fairling answered, nodding

.Virgil nodded a bit and relaxed more. He knew he tended to overthink, but it really was a relief when he was wrong. "Thank you, Dr. Fairling. When do you think it would be best to start?"

"Hmm..." Dr. Fairling stopped and seemed to think for a moment. "Perhaps today. Since we already started with a lesson, I believe it might be good for us to start sooner rather than later."

Virgil was a bit surprised but he decided Dr. Fairling was right. It would be good to start earlier. However, he was already nervous about it. What if Dr. Fairling decided Virgil was too dumb to be helped? That he was helpless? It got too much to keep tapping out his heartbeat, so he switched to fidgeting with the sleeves instead, making sure to hide it under the table. "Alright. That sounds like a good plan. I'll come back here in an hour."

"Perfect." The professor nodded and then allowed Virgil to leave.

As Virgil left, he rubbed his throat, finding it a bit sore after talking so much when he usually didn't.

As Virgil left, Logan leaned back in his seat, tapping his pen against his chin. "Hmm..." He felt something unfamiliar but not unknown start to bloom. However, he just couldn't identify it. However, he did know that Virgil was already quite... intriguing.

-----

I will tag people if they want me to. I don’t really care how you ask, I’m not particular.

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

Intertwined - [Chapter One]

Kanene’s note:

What? I didn’t finished the fanfic Cats, Coffee, an Old Apartament and... Oh, yeah, the Apocalypse?

Well... It wouldn’t be a shame if I just...

Ya know...

Maybe...

Write another Long Fanfic for this AU?

Hahaha. What a crazy idea.

... Unless...

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That is a fanfic directly connected with this chapter and therefore this AU, which will be called Until The End (maybe provisonally, I’m horrible with names xD).

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Warning for Anxiety Attacks and Implied Past Abuse!

* Something around 1500 words. -w-)b.

* I didn’t proof read it yet, so I am sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Hug a Patton today. ^w^)/

* Remy is pretty sleep here, so this chapter can be a little crazy.

* Eu vou postar em português, é serio! Sdfgyhujikjuhykjh! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Stay calm, take a time to yourself, remember to eat today, hug a hoodie (and a Patton! :D), drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

                             [~*~]

Chapter 01 - Am I the only one sleeping here?!

Patton woke up with an unbearable boisterous cacophony of something shattering in the middle of the night. The loud noise cut immediately all his barriers fogged by his sleep, getting into his dreams and without a second of hesitation brutally tearing him from the said. He literally woke up jumping from the comfort of his bed, wobbly legs trying to support him, heart in tachycardia and all the memories he would rather wish they were completely erased from his mind emerging again to the surface. Part of his blanket still covering him and quickly his fingers tightly squeezed it, his knuckles lightly painting themselves in pale due the strength applied in such act. His throat slightly relaxing as he recognized the fabric and softness, which surrounded him, completely different from the cold, metallic bars, were those memories were created. His eyes finally stopped running around in a desperate search for danger to focus in the fabric, the bed and, finally, the room where he was.

 His room.

 His bed. 

 He was good. He was back to his own room.

 A panicked thought took over his brain, as remembering the sound that pulled him from his sleep. 

 “They found me.”

Before he even noticed it his legs dazed and transported him to inside his closet, allowing the comforting and real touch of his clothes to embrace him as he moved and sat in the further, darkest corner of the place, the fabrics covering him up without suffocating and being the only tactile solace he had, the only thing he owned that pulled and locked his mind in the reality when the seas of faces and words passed as thunder and lighting before his pupils: The smiles which one day brought a warm feeling in his chest but now only delivered fervent tears in the corner of his eyes. Tears. Tears and shivers frosty, uncomfortable, and bad memories running, spilling, unrolling towards him and his eyes even if these were closed with all his might.

 Fast, too fast. Everything was too much fast.

 “You can be in our group. Together we are stronger.”

 Gasping breathing, fast. Too much. Fast. If it was so fast, why do he still feeling like he needed more air?

 “Sure! You will be a great importance!”

 Strange, quick heartbeats. Even quicker. That was dangerous. Too much dangerous. It felt like it would break everything around him, it seemed like it would cut his chest.

 “What did you saw?? You KNEW it was forbidden to get out of your room after this hour!!”

 “It’s alright, Pat. It’s just me, remember?”

 Speedy memories. Incomplete flashes. Voices, sounds, cold, betrayed, warm, no, fast. Spinning spinning spinning and weighting and absorbing and spinning and-

 And he opened his eyes. He saw just clothes. Nothing more. No one, anymore. Just him and his clothes.  

 “I told you that you would be essential, didn’t I? So why are you look at me like that? You wanted to help us, didn’t you?”

 “He is better quiet, anyway. Take him.”

 Patton focused in concentrate in his senses, the breathing still fragile as he shrinks further, hugging his legs and dancing his gaze through the vestments that surrounded him. He was fine. He managed to escape. Everything was fine. His tremble fingers squeezed the sleeve of a warm and soft sky-blue hoodie, holding tightly while his other hand rested on his chest, towards his beating heart. He was alive. He was here, alive.

 “T-t-this…” His tune was a weak whisper, as if he shared a secret, however this didn’t mattered. What mattered was that his voice was real. Sounded real. This hoodie was real, was good. Not one of them spun or weighted. It was good. “I-it was a birthd-day from my aunt. I-it was... a small pa-party in my… my yard. Sunny.”  He tried to remember the great feeling of the rays of Sun in his skin, pushing the other memories. “S-she knew m-my favorite co-color and-” His breathing mismatched one more time, stealing all his air and words. His grip tightened more, the man remembering to take deep sips of oxygen. Even if wobbly, it didn’t mattered. It has to be big, continuous sips. “S-she gave it to-to me. S-s-she taught me… se-sewing. I made a… a little heart. Towards my, my chest. Rainbow. A colored heart l-like a rain...bow…”

 He adjusted his sitting position just the enough amount to his arms, now tired since the adrenaline from the scare started to get out from his system and buzzing of his ears faded little by little, the memories just being a background sound. He yanked the hoodie from the hanger, reminding himself to keep his deep breaths, to wear it. The lavender aroma surrounded him completely, the comfy warm being very welcome as the one wearing glasses hugged himself again, his muscles relaxing at the same time when his index finger followed the perimeter from the small colored heart - a heart colored as a rainbow, his mind recalled, redirecting his focus. - resting on his chest, counting while outlined it again and again and again and a little more, until he felt his heartbeats stilled.

 Patton wiped some tears on his cheeks. It wasn’t the discreet vestment he owned, albeit it was soft and too much good to make him even consider in change it. He opened his closet’s door, immediately going to the wardrobe nearly and taking some supplies from the said, putting in his bag, which lazly laid next to his bed. 

 He would need to get out before That Thing arrived.

 He got some medicine, food and some things to pastime, since he would only be able to come back to his apartment after at least four days. Probably Them would disappear after They got tired and realized that there weren’t any human in the building.

 Patton recalled the sound and a shiver spread across his body, making him stop in the middle of his action. 

 Was there really no one else in the building?

 He bit his lower lip while crouched, going to the window’s apron and looking the most cautiously as possible from the same. There was something on the ground in midst of the street, a kind of misshapen object (or a group of it??) that was even more difficult to distinguish with the night darkness.

 It was, was… a wood pile? And right next to it...

 “NEIGHBOR??!” Patton almost shouted, quickly clapping his mouth with both hands, as if the resident who always walked in the hallways wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket and exhaled an aroma of coffee could hear him from the fifth floor. Patton never really talked to the man, but he always seemed someone strong and who definitely wouldn’t let himself be shaken by life. His smile was beautiful. Probably he was a good person. One day the cat lover saw him- Wait a hot minute, he was throwing flowers on the pile?

 The one wearing hoodie shook his head. He couldn’t lose himself in his thoughts right now. The sudden sound likelihood would attract The Things, therefore he would need to get out the quickest his legs and bouncing (He really wasn’t the last human in the city!) heart allowed him. Roger (That was his name, right?) was already aware of this and was in his way out and Patton didn’t wanted to get too much behind.

 Not that he would show himself to the other adult or something like that! A taste strangely bitter hit his tongue. Something in life shows you that, sometimes, is better for you to move forward, alone.

 He closed his eyes for some heartbeats, letting the new information weight in his brain.

 He carried his bag and locked his and the building's door, in case any other survivor looking for supplies or a place for night tried to get in without knowing it was a risk area. Just for further precaution Patton decided to write the day, month and current time right at the case, just to make sure that, when he came back, he (or anyone else. Maybe Roguer?) would be able to remember if enough time had passed for Them to disappear or not.

 He yawed, feeling a bit tired as his arms embraced himself in a hug to enjoy the maximum of his hoodie’s softness, his gaze wandering at the sky, from which began to emerge the first rays of sunshine. Something in his spirit warmed for knowing he wasn’t alone anymore, even if they don’t talk, that was a good sign, right?

 Yes… A ray of hope filled his heart and for a moment all the tiredness for his sudden wake up call was forgotten. A humming flied from his lips in back flips as he followed up the street. Maybe he could use the opportunity to refuel his supplies! Who know, perhaps he would even be able to find some seeds and fertilizer in his way?