#tall virgil | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justablah56 · 2 years

Text

I wrote a thing :)

read it on Ao3 here

Sooo, have this little analogical roommates au that I decided to make up for this one specific oneshot (unless people like this au and want me to write more for it) !! Little bit of context, in this au all the sides are roommates, don't ask me how it works unless you want my very specific way that it looks and works out in my head so there's that. I'm just writing about these two gay dumbasses because them <3 :)

There's no trigger warnings for this fic, it's all fluff today. and for a bit of mostly irrelevant info, I have decided that Logan gets to be 5' 4 and Virgil gets to be 6' 5. because fuck you, tall Virgil and short Logan rights. also Virgil is definitely a tummy appreciator, and Logan just happens to have a tummy, I don't make the rules. and as per usual in my fics, Virgil uses they/them pronouns :)

Logan woke up groggy and exhausted. He had stayed up probably a little too late last night, and now his brain wouldn't even give him the mercy of sleeping in. Rather, it had woken him up earlier than normal. 4:03 in the morning to be exact, having gone to sleep not even 2 hours previously.

In summary, Logan was miserable. He even tried to go back to sleep, but after 27 minutes it was evident that it wasn't going to happen, so he decided it was about time he actually woke up.

He got up, slipping his glasses on, but not bothering to put on a shirt or change out of his baggy grey sweatpants. After all, it wasn't like anyone else was going to be awake this early.

He left his room for the kitchen to make some coffee for himself with the hopes that it would give him the energy to function properly.

After his coffee was done, he sat himself down on one of the chairs in front of the counter. Zoning out and just barely aware of anything else that was happening around him other than the steaming mug of coffee in his hand.

His mug was half empty before he really started to gain consciousness, and he noticed that there was something on the chair he was sitting on. He really only noticed since the chair, which usually was quite uncomfortable honestly, was now... not uncomfortable?

Whatever it was, it was pretty warm. And soft. And it smelled quite nice now that he thought about it.

He was still tired enough that this didn't register to his sleep deprived brain as anything important enough to divert actual thought into. So, of course, he continued drinking his coffee and just enjoying the comforting smell, feeling relaxed and content.

Virgil on the other hand, woke up that morning, feeling... off. They weren't sure exactly why. Well, that wasn't particularly unusual, being anxiety they often felt like something was wrong. But hey, if it was anything important they were sure they'd figure it out.

They got up out of bed, and then they realized what was wrong. Their hoodie was not hanging up where they always made sure to put it before bed. Fuck, this was not good. Not only were they going to be cold all day, but they wouldn't have their hoodie. And that also meant that they'd have to ask the others if any of them had seen it.

Well, wait a minute, no it didn't. They could find it themself. They always woke up earlier than everyone else, so maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to find it before anyone else woke up. It was still only 5 am, so they had two-to-three hours before anyone else was due to wake up, assuming everyone else didn't suddenly decide to differentiate from their usual schedule.

They would start with their room obviously, it was the most likely place after all, and then they would check the living room, and they could work it out after that. It was unlikely that it was anywhere else, really. There weren't a lot of places they was comfortable taking his hoodie off.

Well, they might as well start looking, it's not like the hoodie would find itself.

It wasn't until Logan had finished his coffee 30 minutes later that his brain finally caught up to his unusually comfortable chair and decided to actually look and see what he was sitting on. He turned back to see... Virgil's jacket?

What was that doing here? Virgil never went anywhere without their jacket, it was unlike them to just leave it lying around. They must've just forgotten it. Somehow. Virgil never just forgot their hoodie, Logan had never even seen them without it on! Something must've happened.

Well... Virgil would likely want to know where their jacket was when they woke up, so Logan should keep it on him, right? It was purely so that Virgil could get their hoodie back as quickly as possible. Obviously.

And therefore, it would only make sense for him to just wear it, then he wouldn't misplace it and he could just give it to Virgil once they woke up! Yes, that's what he would do, it was a perfectly great plan with no alternative motives. Of course.

Logan sighed. Well, there was no point in attempting to reason himself into believing that there was a decent reason he wanted to put on the hoodie, he knew why (though hed never admit it, of course) and he also knew he was going to do it anyway, so there was no point trying to give it an explanation.

He slipped the hoodie over his shoulders was immediately struck by how warm it was. Virgil must've had some sort of heating mechanism in it to keep it that way if it was still warm after being left out all night (presumably). That thought was immediately followed by how good it smelled. It didn't really have a discernable smell, other than just... Virgil.

No no. None of that. Just because he didn't have the optimum amount of sleep didn't mean he had to get all... feelings-y. So the next reasonable thing to do was continue with his morning routine. After all, waking up early doesn't mean he gets to mess up his whole schedule. Meaning that he had to get up from the counter to continue with his morning routine.

He dragged himself out of the chair, not bothering to zip up the jacket, but he did bother pulling the sleeve over his hand and bringing it to his nose to get another smell of the hoodie. Of Virgil. No. Stop. It didn't have anything to do with it smelling like Virgil specifically, it just smelled good. Virgil just (objectively) smelled good! It's an objective fact that Logan has no biases toward. Obviously.

The next thing he realized upon getting up from his chair was how big Virgil's hoodie was on him. Virgil already liked wearing large clothes, not to mention the fact that they were by no means short, standing a good foot or so taller than Logan himself. So putting those facts together meant that the hoodie went just above his knees, effectively keeping his bare torso warm (which was the only reason his face was red, thank you very much).

He then rinsed out his coffee mug, and started some toast. After all, breakfast was an important part of one's day. He really should've started it when he started his coffee like he did normally, but given that normally he didn't only get 2 hours of sleep, he felt he had at least a bit of leeway.

A few minutes later his toast popped up and Logan got the jelly out to put on it. He rolled up the sleeves on Virgil's jacket, it would do no good to get jelly on their jacket of course, and quickly prepared his little breakfast.

After he finished the slice of toast he made a quick stop by his room for a book to read for the next hour or so. Seeing as most of today's schedule depended on the others being able to help, he might as well use this free time to do something he actually enjoys.

He settled himself on the couch against one of the armrests and began to read.

Fuck. Virgil had spent the last hour checking every nook and cranny of their room and, lo and behold, their hoodie was nowhere to be found. Which meant, that they now had to go outside their room to search for it, with only one more hour to check the rest of the mindscape before everyone was supposed to wake up.

Well. They'd better hurry then. They pulled a shirt on, and slipped out their door towards the commons.

The sight they were met with as they reached the top of the stairs was enough to stop them in their tracks.

Right there. On the couch. Was Logan. Wearing their hoodie. Now, if it had been literally anyone else, Virgil would undoubtedly be at least a bit upset, but when it came to Logan, all they could do was stare as they felt their face heat up.

Logan was curled up leaning against the arm of the couch, one hoodie-concealed hand pressed to his face, the other holding his book open. And as if just the sight of Logan drowning in their hoodie wasn't enough to leave them a gay mess, he didn't have a shirt on.

At this point in time Virgil would like to pride themself on not passing out, because it was then that Logan seemed to deem it time to stop reading. He put in his bookmark and proceeded to stretch his arms up over his head, closing his eyes and yawning as Virgil's hoodie slipped over his bare chest.

Virgil's eyes went wide and were immediately drawn to the small pouch that was Logan's stomach. Goddamn it- why did Logan have to be so fucking cute and why did Virgil have to be so fucking gay.

It was then that Logan relaxed his arms and opened his eyes. Which wasn't the best thing when Virgil was currently standing completely and utterly still, enamored with just Logan, within Logan's vision field now that he wasn't focused on his book.

After Logan had finished a couple chapters, he decided that he should probably actually go get dressed. After all, he couldn't just wait for everyone else to wake up and see him half naked in Virgil's hoodie, he had a reputation. And now that he was properly awake, he probably shouldn't be wearing Virgil's hoodie whenever they decided to wake up, they were awfully touchy with their hoodie.

However, it appeared that he was just a bit too late- for as he stretched in preparation for getting up, he looked up to see who else? But Virgil themself standing at the top of the stairs, face red, eyes wide, and staring directly at Logan.

Well, not directly. Not his eyes, anyway. No, Virgil's eyes were focused, quite intently he might add, on Logan's stomach.

Logan immediately flushed and went to cover his bare torso with the hoodie, only to remember that the hoodie belonged to the very person right in front of him, struggling to get out of the hoodie to give it to them.

Logan looked back up to see Virgil's eyes had flicked up to Logan's as soon as Logan had moved to cover himself.

"Sh-shit sorry- I was- I was going to give it back when you woke up, I swear-" Logan began to stutter out.

It was then that they interrupted him with their own apology, "No- fuck- I, I - I didn't mean to- to stare or anything I just-"

They brought their hands up to cover their steadily reddening face as they quickly glanced away from him again, pointedly looking at the wall behind him.

After just a few moments of awkward (and very gay) silence and avoided eye contact from both of them,

"Erm- Virgil. You could- W- Would you like to have your hoodie back?" Logan asked hesitantly, beginning to take off the jacket, assuming their answer.

"Oh! Um," Virgil's gaze landed back on Logan's for a moment, "Yes? Well- no- you actually look really fucking cute in my hoodie and ohmyfuck I don't know why I just said that-" they rushed the last bit out, sounding absolutely mortified at what Logan was pretty sure they had just confessed.

Logan froze, "Y- Wait. What? I- You. think I'm cute?"

Virgil once again removed their hands from their still blazing face, "Er- Yes? I mean, have you seen yourself? Anyone who doesn't think you're cute is either blind or lying, so-"

"Virgil." Logan started, gaining some hidden confidence from god knows where as he took a few steps towards the stairs that Virgil was still standing atop. Perhaps he had been embolden by Virgil's words, or maybe it was just that Virgil had been the one to say them, but regardless whatever his brain decided to do with this newfound confidence, it was likely going to end up being overly blunt.

Virgil looked down at him, now looking a bit confused along with their flushed face. "Um. Yes, Logan?" they asked.

Logan stepped up the rest of the stairs until he had reached the top. "Kiss me?" he asked, looking up and hesitantly reaching for Virgil's hand.

Virgil froze, face going blank for a moment just long enough for Logan to doubt his ability to assess the current situation, before breaking out into a grin and answering with a "God yes." as they grabbed Logan's hand in one of theirs and wrapped their other arm around Logan as they leaned far enough down to press their lips against his own.

#sanders sides #sandersides #logan sanders #tss logan #virgil sanders #tss virgil #analogical #tall virgil #short logan #chubby logan #sander sides fic #my writing

26 notes · View notes

mentally-retired · 7 months

Text

I like the idea of virgil being taller than everyone, but especially roman, but the sides cant tell cus hes slouches a lot

Roman: *Standing next to virgil*

Virgil: *Stretches back out, standing unslouched for once*

Roman, now seeing virgil is like half a foot taller than him: HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?!?!! WITCH?!!?!????

#virgil sanders #virgil x roman #roman x virgil #roman sanders #sanders sides #sander sides fandom #sander sides #sander side virgil #tall virgil truther #princey sanders #anixety sanders #prinxiety #prinxeity

717 notes · View notes

theelmoarchive · 9 months

Note

Can you show us how to draw the height differences for each of the Marble hornets characters? Some people draw time absolutely tiny compared to the rest and some people make him taller than jay and not much shorter than Brian, and I think it’s funny

I do draw Tim being tiny 😔🤝

This is kind of how I imagine the main four guys!! I like to think of jam as short and brilex as tall just cause I think that's funny lmao

Idk the exact actual height differences between them, but that's how I imagine them ✨✨

(Sorry this took a little to answer, thank you for asking!!! :D)

#Also sometimes I make Jay taller than this just for the hell of it because i think he qualifies for the tall awkward Virgil-ranboo type #Of character #At the end of the day i think we can all agree that Alex is tall and him n the operator formed the tall squad #And really marble hornets was all about the short kings rebelling against the tall ones #Canon /j #Also idk how people make jay shorter than tim that makes me want to throw up /hj /lh #Definitely not my thing that is odd in my very personal opinion #But you guys do what you want o7 slay 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈#marble hornets #jay merrick #tim wright #brian thomas #Mh jay #Mh tim #Mh brian #Mh alex #Just now realized i slightly miss-read the ask sorry bout that but i am much too tired to change the drawing 👍#My art teehee

300 notes · View notes

southern--downpour · 1 year

Text

Not pictured: Jonny immediately shooting Tim in the face right after

#gunpowder tim #jonny d'ville #the mechanisms #the mechs #I am a FIRM believer of tall as fuck tim and tiny jonny #tims like 6’7 jonnys like a solid 5’3 #virgil arts

599 notes · View notes

kraeki · 6 months

Text

Virgil’s instagram story 17.10.23

The tippy toes 😭

#kostas hugging tall dutch men is my kind of content #virgil van dijk #kostas tsimikas

84 notes · View notes

where-are-the-spooky-gays-2 · 2 months

Note

I don't have the time or focus to get too in depth with this, but dukexiety Who Framed Roger Rabbit au. Remus is Roger. Virgil is Jessica.

Y E S Y E S Y E S T H I S P L E A S E!!! I know a lot of people see them as Moceit which yes I dig it and get it but I need y'all to see the Dukexiety vision of Ree being a dorky energetic Rabbit who loves his Emo wife /light hearted

#also what's not to love about a lil short ree and tall vee agenda #dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #ts remus #ts virgil #sanders sides #thomas sanders #asks #answers #brandstifter-sys #not a countdown

44 notes · View notes

kusurrone · 1 year

Text

Dante's smol (or probably Beatrice's big)

look at how cute dante e bice by botticelli are!😭

#i love my tall wife #shitpost #dante #dante alighieri #divine comedy #the divine comedy #vergil #virgil #virgil maron #beatrice #beatrice portinari #botticelli #sandro botticelli

254 notes · View notes

bluuscreen-png · 1 year

Text

aaa very rough au doodles. because i guess this is an au now. i’m having fun with it

#tss #sanders sides #virgil anders #roman sanders #prinxiety #will never get over the comedy of making roman a manlet and virgil tall as hell #it’s so funny to me #to clarify the first picture it’s set right after the original drawing i did #and virgil is just like. lifting roman from where he was sitting on the ground

160 notes · View notes

edupunkn00b · 6 months

Text

A Light in the Darkness

Photo by Johanes Plenio via Unsplash. Color and tone edited.

Logan finds a light in the darkness when he needs it most. It leads to more than he ever thought possible.

WC: 2617 - Rated: G - [ AO3 ] - CW: fear, minor injury, blood mention, past major character death referenced, ghosts, happy ending Written for @houser-of-stories as part of the @tss-october-ghostwriters gift exchange for. I hope you enjoy it! I had fun writing it! -

“Keep running, freak!”

Taunting laughter filled Logan’s ears as he stumbled deeper into the dark forest. He tripped on a rock but kept his footing and continued to run. Heedless of the thorns that snagged his hair and his clothes, heedless of the cold. Heedless of the villages’ stories of the ghosts and spirits who guarded the woods.

The trees grew thicker here, wide long branches crowding out the nominal path. The prickly pines tore at his ragged sweater and threatened to snag his third-hand spectacles from his face. He stopped, yanking hard to free himself from the gnarled grip of one sharp-spined bough. The voices, his friends’ voices—former friends’ voices—grew louder and he gave one more hard pull on his sleeve. The yarn snapped and the branch took a bit of his skin in trade, but he surged forward.

Loose soles on his worn boots flapped. One caught on a tree root and he slammed down on one knee. Cold, flickering light from the mob’s lanterns shone through the trees. Logan watched their shadows loom over the thicket.

He’d lost the path.

Again scrambling upright, Logan limped forward and dove into the thick underbrush. He dodged to the left, then the right. The shadows grew shorter. The men drew closer.

A dark mass, a boulder or maybe a massive tree trunk, blocked his path. It swallowed up the dancing lantern light, a flat, empty darkness.

Whatever it was, Logan ran toward it.

Shouted swears as the mob hit the thicket echoed against the trees. “You made me rip my favorite pants, freak!” Someone shouted. The blacksmith. Perhaps the shopkeeper. Enraged, they all sounded the same.

Logan hoped to hide behind the mass, definitely now a boulder—he could just make out a bit of the grey treeline above it. As he drew nearer, though, he discovered it wasn’t merely a boulder, but a gap in the rocky foothills on either side of the forest. A cave.

Bears lived in these woods. Bats, too. Worse, if the stories were true.

Given what Logan knew about the villagers’ stories about him, though, he doubted the veracity of many of their stories.

A rock exploded against a tree only a dozen yards to his left.

“We see you!” a voice jeered as another rock struck the same tree. “Fucking tall ass freak!”

The chance of a bear beat the certainty of the mob, so Logan darted into the cave.

He slowed as soon as he passed the threshold, the utter darkness within making the forest feel brightly light. The tiniest glint of lantern light at the cave’s mouth was the sole evidence flames had ever existed. Shivering, he inched deeper into the cave, stepping toe-heel. Relief flooded his veins when the grating voices faded, the last glimmer of lamp light absorbed by the dark stillness of the dark stone. The cave was cold and dry, his own breathing roared in his ears.

He was alone. He was safe.

Fear-fueled strength waning, Logan sank down and crouched against a mostly smooth divot in the wall. Knees hugged to his chest, he worked to slow his breathing, ignoring the ache in his knee and shin for now.

For now, he just listened.

Save for several breathless moments when the men tromped past the entrance, the cave was dark and silent. Even that moment was brief and it appeared the mob gave up their pursuit.

Logan had no way of knowing how much time had passed, nor how easily sound from within the cave might spill out into the forest, but eventually the throb in his leg could no longer be ignored. Moving as slowly and quietly as he could, he stretched out his injured leg to assess the damage.

Blindly prodding, he found a gash below his kneecap and another above the edge of his boot. The rest appeared to be simple bruising. Nothing was broken, but he would need to clean the wounds so that infection wasn’t his next big problem.

Logan shivered, stifling a humorless laugh. Expulsion meant he’d never need to have that argument again. Not in this village, at least. He shifted again and a warm trickle down his leg told him his current big problem was blood loss.

Feeling around the cave floor turned up little more than a few dried leaves and pebbles. He raised a handful of the tiny dried bits to his nose. Yarrow. He stretched to gather more, then ripped his pant leg from ankle to knee. Wincing, he pressed as much of the dried yarrow over his wounds as he could stand. It wasn’t perfect, but was better than continuing to bleed.

He let his head fall back against the wall with a little thud and a sigh. Eyes squeezed shut, he shoved away the pain to consider his next steps.

It was possible the mob would simply wait him out at the edge of the forest, counting on hunger or the cold to drive him back to the village. Even if they hadn’t torched his home, return was not an option.

Under cover of darkness, this little cave was a sanctuary, but in the harsh dawn’s light, it could quickly become a cage. Though tempted to rest for a few hours before heading out in search of a more permanent safe space, Logan was self-aware enough to admit that, in this weakened state, there was little guarantee he’d actually wake before dawn. The fear of waking to the raucous voices of the mob, their lanterns in his face, shook him from his drowsiness, the imagined gleam of their torchlight snapping open his eyes.

The light, however, had not been imagined.

An arm’s reach away, just above eye level, floated a glimmery ball of light. It shone a soft blue, the color of the sky at mid-day. The color of his late father’s eyes.

The color of hope.

Logan stared at the light for a long moment before shaking himself. Was he dreaming? Pushing up to his feet, a groan escaped his lips at the jolt of pain in his leg. The light flickered, then rose, again just above his eyes.

Fuzzy memory brushed at his mind, an old story his father read to him before (and well after) he could read for himself. Mythical fables of tiny lights that would guide the hopeful, the virtuous, the hurt and the needy home.

“You know I can’t return to my home,” he said aloud to the little light. Sharp laughter edged his voice, shame at his own foolishness. He’d been homeless for far longer than when this village, too, turned on him for his strangeness. Alone in a cave and talking to an imagined ball of light, could he blame them?

Almost in response, the light shifted and a second light sprung to life a few feet from the first.

Instead of leading him toward the mouth of the cave and back out to the forest, it drew him deeper inside. Logan blinked at it. Did he really have anything to lose?

He stepped forward and the first light rushed forward, dancing around his head. “Alright, alright,” he chuckled, the bright blue light impossibly warm and cheery and filling him with… more optimism than he’d felt in a long, long, time. A third light sparked to life and he nodded. “It appears you have a plan,” he muttered. “Just—” he gasped when he stepped and put his full weight on his injured leg. “Just go slow,” he managed, one hand on the cave wall for support. “Please,” he added and the little light bobbed, like a nod, before drifting deeper into the cave.

Well after Logan had expected to hit the back of the cave, the lights continued, leapfrogging ahead each time he drew near enough to touch the closest light. One halting step at a time, he followed. When he stumbled, a fourth and fifth light sparked on either side of him, sharing their strange warmth.

“Thank you,” he murmured and let them guide him. Logan didn’t know how long they’d meandered through the cave and a high-pitched laugh bubbled up from the back of his throat at the image of himself limping in circles in the back of a dark cavern. Not long after that, the wall seemed to fall away, starlight and the thin pink light of dawn glowing beyond.

He managed one more step before falling forward. Logan was already wrapped in a dark blanket of unconsciousness when the lights caught him and laid him gently on the ground.

“Ohh, Jannie!” The familiar sing-song followed by an emerald glow at the edges of his vision was Janus’ only warning before Remus appeared in front of him. Shoulders shimmying, he levitated, one leg crossed over the other, a few inches above the wooden table where Janus prepared both meals and potions. The brilliant green of his eyes over-illuminated the grimoire in its stand as he stared expectantly at Janus. The apparition pouted when Janus didn’t look up. “It looks like Pattycake found another one! Out by the Gate.”

“Hm, really?” Janus graced him with a single eyebrow raise before returning to his work. It wouldn’t’ve been the first false alarm—or outright prank—the spirits in his charge had brought to him. He finished his current sentence before pulling the ink closer to the page.

“Yes, really!” Remus huffed and the lid to Janus’ inkwell popped into place, blocking his quill. “Pattycake says this one’s important, too.”

Full attention drawn, Janus laid down his quill and met Remus’ translucent eyes. “Important?” he murmured.

“Mm-hm… Important and alive, just like you.” Remus’ grin didn’t last. When he dissolved only to reappear next to the cottage door, his eyes were serious. “But maybe not for long.”

“I’ll get my bag.”

By the time Janus had gathered his bag and his cloak and pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind him, Remus had already found Virgil. The pair were exchanging their typical morning greetings, cat’s claws buried in the thick bark of his oldest alderwood. His hiss cut short the moment Janus appeared and started down the path.

Virgil shifted and leapt from the branch to join him, eyes drawn to the medicine bag in his hand. “You’re not headed to the village, are you? Things are… tense down there.”

“That says a lot coming from our resident scaredy cat,” Remus laughed, not bothering to corporate.

“Tense?” Janus asked, ignoring the friendly barbs. "How so?”

Giving Remus nothing more than an eye roll in response, Virgil shrugged at the witch. “The usual ‘you’re not like us so you have to die bullsh—”

As though summoned by the curse, one of Patton’s will o’ the wisps blipped in front of him and Virgil nodded. “Sorry, Pat.”

Shaking his head at the predictable antics, he pointed down the path from his cottage. “Is he still down by the gate?”

In answer, the will o’ the wisp buzzed half-way down the path before pausing. Janus would need to wait until they were all back in the cottage before Patton could speak to him, but for now, the dual message was clear.

“Yes, and hurry up!”

Logan dreamt. He was a child again, small enough to comfortably curl up in a nest of blankets in front of the hearth. He watched as his father stirred the big iron pot, metal ladle clanging gently against the sides. The pot bubbled, full of a broth or stew or perhaps even the dumpling soup he liked… whatever it was, it smelled wonderful.

The fire crackled gently in the fireplace, close enough to warm him, far enough that he had no fear of sparks. His father had always known just how close to let him settle in. The blankets were thick and soft, softer than in his memory, even. They smelled of sage and lavender and black pepper. A tiny black cat curled near his leg, purring gently.

His father hummed as he cooked, an old lullaby he used to sing when Logan was feverish or had woken from a nightmare. He smiled as he dropped a handful of herbs into the simmering water, the fragrant smoke wafting through his shimmering blue hair.

Eyes wide, Logan sat up. “Papa?” Rough and cracking, his voice was low. The voice of a man, not that of a little boy. Hands shaking, he reached up and felt his own face. Two-days worth of stubble scratched his palms, and his fingers were rough and calloused. But he couldn’t deny the evidence of his other senses. “Papa, is that you?”

“Logie…” His father turned and before Logan could blink, was at his side. He smiled, bright and bold, his front cuspid cracked, just like Logan remembered. His entire form was edged in a faint blue, the same shade as the lights Logan had seen in the cave, he held his hand. Wrapped firmly around his, his father’s hand was warm and tingly, sending the hair on his knuckles and his arm on end. “Of course it’s me, Logie,” he murmured in the voice Logan thought he’d never hear again.

“Papa,” Logan clung to him, eyes squeezed shut. He felt real. He felt warm and safe. Familiar broad shoulders, big, fleshy muscles, thick curls tickling Logan’s cheek.

He felt like home.

“Papa, the town, they—” Tears choked out the rest of his words and he cried hot, shameful tears. “I—̛I was alone. I couldn’t fend them off, I—”

“You’re safe, now, Logie,” his father whispered. “You’re not alone anymore. You’re safe here.”

“But you’re—” He couldn’t force the word past his tight throat. “I buried you, Papa,” he finally managed to whisper, squeezing the hand in his.

“I know. And you were so strong.” His father’s hand cupping his cheek, Logan melted against it, just like he would when he was nothing more than a child. “It’s really me, Logie. Just… just a little different now.”

“But…” It was impossible. His father had… “But how?”

His father’s eyes shifted and Logan turned to follow his gaze. A man, a plain, ordinary man stood in the corner. He wore a heavy black cloak, his face half-hidden in shadow. A crooked smile fought its way to the light, the flicker of the fireplace giving him an animated expression. “Logie, I’d like you to meet my friend, Janus.”

The man stepped forward, hand outstretched. He quickly flipped it over, palm up, but not before Logan caught sight of the runes tattooed across the back of his hand.

Before he could think better of questioning the hospitality of the man his father described as a friend, Logan blurted out, “You’re a witch?”

“You got a problem with wiccans, Stretch?” A cloud of green formed inches from his face, molding before him into a wild pair of eyes above a manic grin.

“Smooth, Remus,” spat the cat by his shin and Logan’s eyes whipped back to it and stared.

“Y—you speak?”

The cat stretched and kneaded the floor, claws carefully tucked inside its paws. Logan blinked and a young man dressed head to toe in black wool suddenly sat hunched in the cat’s spot. “Of course I speak.” His smirk and the dark eyes flashing warmly heavy bangs belied the otherwise hard tone. “Don’t you?”

“Oh, Kiddo…” His father squeezed his hand and nodded to the witch. They both watched as he filled three bowls with dumpling soup. Stunned, Logan leaned against his father and accepted the first bowl.

“Eat up, Logan,” the witch murmured with another half smile as he passed a bowl to the man-cat, cat-man… Whatever it was. “We have a lot to explain.”

#Light in the Darkness #ts logan #ts janus #ts patton #ts remus #ts virgil #tall!Logan #witch!janus #ghost!remus #other tags are spoilers #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #magic au #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders

29 notes · View notes

monstrcatz · 4 months

Text

tall virgil is the best because he's dark and mysterious so he's kinda intimidating; if you see a six foot tall emo with dark makeup on, you're probably gonna shake in your boots a little bit, but imagine an easily flustered virgil. all that height for nothing in the end when someone flirts with him because despite his edgy-ness he's still a pathetic gay that will go weak in the knees the second any attention is placed on him by a good looking guy.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #polysanders #im in love with tall shy guys #and emo boys #virgil is no exception to that #BOYS WHO BLUSH ARE SO CUTE #BLUSHING IS SUPER CUTE #I LOVE WHEN PEOPLE GET ALL DOPEY

22 notes · View notes

sinister-things · 2 years

Text

Virgil: "Why are you so loud?"

Roman: "I HAVE A LOT OF LOVE IN THIS VERY TINY BODY"

#sanders sides #incorrect sanders sides quotes #roman sanders #virgil sanders #source: me #I'm 5'1 but I have a lot of tall friends #short roman #tall virgil #virgils stuff

35 notes · View notes

delimeful · 1 year

Text

sharp scales and tall tales (1/1)

warnings: g/t, miscommunication, threats, vague dehumanization/using 'it' as a pronoun, fear, general dumbassery

The old ruins hadn’t shown a single sign of life as he’d approached, but even so, Janus couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being watched.

He pulled on his horse’s reins as they finally reached the desiccated front gateway, the old stone arch crumbling and pitted in several places.

The heavy wooden doors that had once stood proudly to grant entrance were now reduced to slabs of half-rotted wood, leaned against either side of the archway like they’d been pulled from their hinges and simply set aside. Or torn from their hinges, Janus reflected as he noted the shallow gouges in the wood, as though something heavy and armored with sharp scales had plowed right past the twin doors as easily as an arrow through flesh.

Yes, this was almost certainly where the dragon was.

The thought sent a panicked thrill down his spine, an instinctual ‘what-are-you-doing’ bolt of adrenaline that he normally heeded quite well, since that swift retreat usually ended up preventing his untimely demise.

Not this time.

He dismounted his horse, well aware that taking even a guard-trained horse into a dragon’s lair was practically requesting that one’s steed get surprise-barbecued.

Also, there was a large, hand painted sign planted in front of the gate with ‘NO HORSES’ written on it in bold, bright red lettering. There was even an accompanying simplistic painting of a horse crossed out underneath it, presumably for the more illiterate knights out there.

With one last pat to his mount’s snout, he turned, double-checked his armor and supplies, and promptly strode through the gates.

The moment his foot landed in dragon territory, he let a thick veil of composure fall down around himself, smoothing out his brow and lightening his pace so that his face and body alike betrayed no sign of apprehension.

He’d truly need to sell it, if he wanted to make it out of this with both himself and his errant charge alive. There was no place for the truth here, and luckily, Janus was far more accomplished than most in the art of lies.

So, when he reached the entrance to the stone tower ahead and immediately heard the low, ground-shaking thump of something extremely heavy landing in the open courtyard behind him, he didn’t jump, or even let his hand slip to the hilt of his sword.

Allowing himself a deep inhale, he turned to face the beast behind him.

The dragon was in its more humanoid form, surprisingly enough, with coiffed hair and an elegant set of clothes. Janus had no idea why; it was hardly an effective disguise. If the leathery wings protruding from its back, curved horns erupting from the crown of its head, and slit, narrow pupils all failed to clue one in to its true nature, the fact that it was as tall as the tower before it certainly did the trick.

The dragon’s lips curled back into a mockery of a smile, and there was another sign— Janus would wager only a dragon could fit that many fangs into one vicious grin.

“Well, well, I see I have yet another little knight, trespassing on my territory,” the dragon rumbled grandly, still holding the crouch it had landed in as though ready to lunge forward at any moment. “To what do I owe the dubious honor, Sir Lancenot?”

Janus resisted the urge to twitch an incredulous eyebrow at the name-calling, reminding himself firmly that there was no space for mockery in this plan. At least, not until he’d successfully pulled the rescue off.

“Oh, marvelous and most keen lord of these lands,” he began, making sure his own expression was shaped into something suitably admiring, “I am Deacon, a member of the Royal Guard, here on behalf of the Kingdom of Tempest, seeking your counsel on a matter most vital.”

The dragon blinked, and Janus couldn’t help but be grateful that it had chosen to wear a more human face— it was far easier to read than a reptilian one, though of course Janus would have managed either way. “My… counsel?”

Janus nodded rapidly, maintaining his faux eagerness.

“Ohoho, how interesting.” An intent glint appeared in its gaze, and it leaned closer, its enormous shadow falling over Janus like an invisible shroud. One clawed hand twitched in a way that made Janus’s heart kick up in tempo. “Strangely, I didn’t get the impression that a friendly chat was the reason the last few knights of Tempest deigned to darken my doorstep.”

The subtle accusation rolled off Janus without a single shudder or pause. He was well-aware that the other knights had gone charging in, swords drawn, prepared to risk a fiery death to retrieve their missing prince. He knew because they had all come back alive, surprisingly enough. It was one of many reasons he’d committed himself to this insane rescue attempt.

“A simple misunderstanding, the lower ranks tend to jump to conclusions so quickly these days,” Janus demurred, waving a hand as though brushing the matter aside. “I was sent to smooth things over, as their superior, and thank you on their behalf for your graciousness in sparing their lives.”

They’d all survived to report back to him, about the ruins layout and the surrounding landscape and the dragon’s alarming penchant for toying with intruders.

“‘Smooth things over,’” the dragon echoed, attention entirely ensnared now. “What an entirely unexpected way for a kingdom’s representative to respond to the heir apparent being stolen away!”

There was something wickedly amused in its voice that made the back of Janus’s neck prickle, but he refused to let the beast see him hesitate.

“You’ll find we’re a rather unique kingdom, and that our heir apparent is perhaps, not as valuable to certain powers there alive as he would be dead.”

The unfortunate thing was, his words weren’t particularly far from the truth. It had taken Janus a mere handful of days in the kingdom’s service to learn that the prince’s aunt was far from happy with the current line of succession, and often demonstrated her displeasure through as many avenues as she feasibly could.

Avenues that included attempted assassinations, he’d discovered after foiling a fair handful of them each passing month. The job had proved far more intensive than the cushy ‘royal guard’ position he’d been promised, especially since every attempt he countered had to be kept quiet. He couldn’t allow the risk of a public uproar, of being replaced as the prince’s primary protector, until he could ensure Lady Arescet was no longer a threat.

And then, right when he’d been about to enact a plan to ensure exactly that, his ward had been plucked up by a dragon, of all creatures. Truly, his idiot prince had no idea how lucky he was that he’d so thoroughly endeared himself to Janus.

“Is that so,” the dragon replied, a victorious chime to its voice. “And to think, I expected a king’s ransom! Why, whoever could have been clever and bold enough to anticipate this turn of events!”

Janus did pause shortly this time, thrown off his rhythm. Most dragons would be fuming by now, enraged by the news that they’d picked an out-of-favor royal to kidnap and thus wouldn’t be receiving their customary ransom for their hostage’s safe return. Here, however, there was absolutely no sign of the irritation Janus had anticipated. The beast didn’t even seem disgruntled.

Before he could say anything else, the dragon leaned forwards, placing two giant hands on either side of the ground where Janus stood. With the slightest motion, its claws dragged deep furrows into the ground. It took everything in him not to twitch and give the game away.

“And I suppose you– or your distinguished employer, more likely– have some meaningful method to make it up to me?” the dragon theorized, as though it had expected this all along.

“I know it must come as a shock,” Janus started anyhow, attempting to drag the current mess back on-script, “but– yes. You suppose correctly. You’ll get nothing of worth from the kingdom, but my superior is willing to pay for you to release him to my custody.”

“Ah, because you wouldn’t want a more fortuitous knight to steal him from my clutches and drag an inconvenient loose end all the way back to power.” The dragon had lost some of its amusement, though there was still a vicious glint to those eyes. “If getting rid of the puny prince is so important, I could simply make him disappear myself. With far more ease than you, I’d imagine.”

“No,” Janus’s mouth uttered without his permission, the reply much too fast to be natural. He made an airy gesture to cover his slip. “Rather, that won’t be necessary. My lady might require… knowledge from the prince, so killing him immediately would be hasty. For your reward, the only service we require of you is turning him over to us.”

“Your lady?” Those hands were sliding closer. The dragon’s voice dipped with faux-shock. “Why, you couldn’t possibly mean your employer is Tempest’s very own Lady Arescet?”

“Not… necessarily,” Janus tried, but the denial sounded weak, even to himself. “The identity of my benefactor is irrelevant, and even if it wasn’t, the kingdom of Tempest would naturally prefer that the squabbles of the royal family remain a secret.”

His heart was racing wildly, the thump of it loud in his ears, and though his mouth ran automatically, a litany of swears occupied his mind. These weren’t the questions he had expected to be asked, nor the emotions he had prepared to counter or placate. How had things spiraled out of control so quickly?

“I do believe they have a saying about secrets and their keepers,” the dragon rumbled theatrically, and then it was moving, a talon-tipped hand catching Janus in a crushing grip that forced all the air from his lungs.

Before it could do worse, though, the wards on his armor sparked, and the dragon dropped him right back onto the ground with a hiss, shaking his hand out.

“What in all the realms was that?” it demanded, sounding deeply offended that Janus had dared to come to it prepared for an attempt on his life, such as the one it had literally just tried. “The other knights didn’t do that!”

The other knights weren’t trying to con a dragon, Janus thought but didn’t say, mostly because he was still struggling to suck air back into his lungs.

“He’s pretty different from the other knights,” a familiar voice drawled, and Janus’s gaze flicked over to where he could see a familiar, eyeshadow-donning face poking out from one of the tower’s windows. “Isn’t that right, Jan?”

“Virgil,” Janus tried to say, not sure whether he would sound relieved or surprised or exasperated or some odd mixture of the three. In the end, it came out like a strangled whisper.

“Jan? His name is Deacon, Prince Pouty,” the dragon was saying, its tone too familiar for a kidnapper speaking to a victim. “You should at least be able to tell members of your personal guard apart!”

“Dea– Janus, seriously?” Virgil was giving him a Look. Janus closed his eyes to avoid it, breathing deeply. “What was Deacon supposed to do when an entire dragon dropped by to exact retribution over whatever stupid scheme you were about to try?”

“Die, probably,” Janus muttered, because his sympathy for that particular fellow guard had withered down to dust by the fourth time he’d ‘accidentally’ let an assassin get way too close to the prince’s chambers for comfort.

The dragon interrupted, brow drawn in confusion. “Wait, you know this malicious malefactor? This treasonous transgressor? This– this slimy scoundrel?!”

“Yup.” Virgil had propped his chin up in one hand. “Can’t say I was expecting him to come all the way out here, though.”

Janus felt his heart sink. Virgil had been listening in, which meant he’d heard Janus pretend to be under the thumb of Lady Arescet, and even if he survived the dragon now, he’d have to flee the kingdom–

The dragon threw its hands up dramatically. “Don’t you get it, Dark and Stormy? This is the one we’ve been waiting for, the one who was setting up your abduction for your vile, villainous aunt!”

Virgil snorted. “Janus isn’t working for my aunt, Roman.”

‘Roman’ stared at Virgil, incredulity and disbelief warring on the dragon’s face. Janus imagined that his own expression wasn’t much different. “He just admitted to it!”

“He was lying, you overgrown lizard,” Virgil climbed up onto the stone sill of the window, his hand anchored to the side of the tower wall to keep his balance. “Janus was the one who handled the last five assassins my aunt sent. If he was working for her, he would’ve just ignored them.”

“You knew?” Janus’s voice jolted up in pitch, unable to conceal his surprise.

“Dear Aunt Cetty has been trying to off me since I was like, eleven,” Virgil replied dryly. “I know an assassination attempt when I see one.”

In rapid succession, Janus recalled several particularly stressful moments that he’d had to deal with because of his prince’s overt, near-obnoxious obliviousness, obliviousness that had apparently been feigned all along.

“I’m going to throttle you,” Janus informed Virgil, “Dragon or no dragon.”

Roman growled, a low, reptilian croak that made every hair on Janus’s body stand up, but Virgil only grinned at him like the asshole he was.

“Nuh-uh, it’s too late. You came to rescue me from a dragon because you care about me, now I know that your threats are all hot air,” he retorted, unbearably smug in his teasing. “Ro, gimme a hand, will you?”

Roman grumbled something indistinct under its– his breath, and Janus watched, disbelieving, as Virgil stepped lightly onto the giant’s hand, dropping into a crouch as the dragon expertly ferried him to the ground below, as though the two of them had done this hundreds of times.

Janus barely managed to avoid gaping, but Virgil laughed at him anyway.

“Roman’s a childhood friend,” he informed Janus, as though that sentence was in any way reasonable. “His mom kidnapped my mom once and they ended up getting along well enough to stay in touch. People think he looks intimidating now, but I’ve seen him fly right into a tree and knock half his baby teeth out.”

“Virgil,” Roman groaned, setting a fingertip against Virgil’s face as though to stall any more embarrassing youthful anecdotes. “I should have left you to get abducted by your aunt’s goons.”

“But you didn’t,” Virgil replied, gleeful and only a little muffled. “Now suffer the consequences.”

“There was another assassination attempt planned?” Janus asked, trying to ignore the brain-breaking concept of a royal toddler and a baby dragon being playmates.

“An abduction,” Roman corrected haughtily. “I heard a rumor about it, some goon bragging about a plan to whisk Virgil away to some secondary location! Naturally, I wasn’t about to let that wicked witch have her way.”

An abduction plan wasn’t Lady Arescet’s style, though. She’d never shied from sending assassins directly into the castle before, why–?

Janus nearly choked on his next breath. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Virgil echoed, blatantly curious.

“Oh?” Roman also echoed, blatantly suspicious.

“It’s possible that, perhaps, just maybe, possibly… that was actually my goon,” Janus elaborated, putting on a show of sheepishness.

“Your goon.” Virgil was slowly raising one eyebrow. “For your abduction plot.”

“Potentially,” Janus replied. “Look, I needed you out of the way so Arescet would get sloppy, and a forceful relocation seemed like the simplest way to do it!”

“You arranged the abduction… of your own prince,” Roman said, voice dripping with too much judgment for someone who had recently kidnapped his childhood friend.

“It made sense at the time!” Janus snapped. “I already had several plots and even more elaborate machinations in place– It’s almost like someone decided not to tell me he knew about all the attempts on his life all along!”

“It was funny,” was Virgil’s remorseless defense. “Worth it.”

“So… I didn’t actually need to sit around by this boring tower waiting for some mystery perpetrator to show up?” Janus’s nod was wary, but Roman only let out a long exhale, wings drooping with relief. “Thank the stars, I was so sick of lazing around.”

“I wasn’t,” contributed Virgil, who had routinely avoided his political duties by handing them off to Janus and finding a dark cellar to lurk in. “This was great. Relaxing. Ten out of ten, would get held hostage again.”

“Oh, stop it!” Roman preened at the unorthodox praise. “Just you wait. I know the perfect place for a field trip, we can finally do something fun!”

“...Fun?” Virgil repeated, dubious.

“We?” Janus repeated, incredulous.

Going by the shark-like smile they got in return, they certainly weren’t going to be returning to the castle any time soon. Janus silently mourned the imminent destruction of his more time-sensitive plots and schemes. (Virgil less-silently mourned the end of his time lounging around in a musty old tower.)

In the end, his rescue attempt had failed just as badly as Roman’s assassination-foiling attempt. Despite their rocky start, the two of them almost immediately found common ground in blaming Virgil for it all.

("Still worth it.")

When he’d walked into the ruins, he’d believed that his plot failing would mean his death.

As it turned out, being abducted by this particular dragon was far less lethal– and far more entertaining– than he could’ve guessed.

#sanders sides fic #g/t #sharp scales and tall tales #ts janus #ts roman #ts virgil #oneshot #sstt #concept for this one was actually a roleswap #what if we assigned the opposite roles that they normally get in fantasy/medieval aus

197 notes · View notes