#tss fanfic

[delimeful]

Defender

warnings: bickering, theoretical violence, that's basically it this one's fluffy

Part 8 of MC AU!

-

“And you’re sure that this will prevent the village’s valiant defender from attacking Anxiety on sight?” Roman asked, visibly concerned. “Absolutely sure that there won’t be hitting or striking or slaying of any variety?”

Logan disliked repeating himself, and this would be the third time he had done so, hence his rapidly waning patience. “Yes, Roman. I’ve been researching this exact matter for weeks, and I’m very confident that my alterations to the iron golem’s runic carvings will prevent it from targeting Anxiety. I had to perform a similar adjustment for my own person when first creating the golem, as well.”

“Alright, alright,” Roman relented, though when Logan turned away, he could see the adventurer shoot the iron golem a wary look. “I’m just a mite concerned for Tall, Dark, and Spooky, that’s all. I mean, have you seen how bony that guy is? A single punch would practically bowl him over!”

“I think you’re underestimating him,” Logan replied, absently hoping that Roman didn’t notice the way he was triple-checking the images in his reference book and the runes painstakingly carved into the iron golem’s armor. “Endermen are far more durable and far more dangerous than they look.”

A brief stretch of silence, and then he paused his work again to lift his head and elaborate: “Not that Anxiety is a danger to us.”

“Pat’s got us well-trained, huh,” Roman mused, as though he hadn’t just been fretting over the enderman in question. “I swear, one day he’ll bring the Ender Dragon home, and we’ll all just have to adapt to it just to make the guy happy.”

“Please do not speak that into existence,” Logan replied dryly, brushing away some stray metal shavings as he stepped back from the village’s golem to look over his work. “I have no doubt he would be the only one even capable of such a thing.”

Roman hummed in agreement, coming to stand by his side. They surveyed the updated runes together for a long moment.

“And this won’t prevent it from realizing that other endermen are still potential threats?” Roman asked, an eyebrow raised at the complex interwoven symbols. “That’s a pretty specific condition to set for a construct, Specs.”

“It is,” Logan allowed. “Luckily, I am an exceedingly skilled witch.”

The brag earned him a snort and an eyeroll, both gestures a far cry from the wariness that had marked the beginning of their strange enemies-turned-friends dynamic.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop pestering you,” Roman said, lifting his hands up in a gesture of faux-innocence. “But if Anxiety gets punched into next week by one of those metal tree trunks your golem calls arms, I reserve the right to say I told you so.”

Logan sighed, the noise coming out far fonder than he wanted it to. “Very well. Though, I will remind you how many times you’ve gotten to exercise that particular right over the course of our friendship.”

He wasn’t in the habit of being wrong, especially because letting Roman say ‘I told you so’ to him would be galling beyond belief.

Roman grumbled wordlessly for a moment, before turning on his heel to lead the way back towards the small clearing near Patton’s house. “Regardless, I maintain the right! One of these days, your hubris will be your undoing, and on that day, my powerful intuition and sense for danger will triumph!”

The adventurer accentuated this particular claim by immediately getting his boot caught in a stray pumpkin vine, tripping, and nearly eating dirt.

“Doubtful,” Logan replied with poorly-concealed smugness, preoccupied with carefully replacing the golem’s lodestone and observing it shuffle back into awareness. He paid no mind to the indignant muttered complaints growing fainter behind him.

Once he was satisfied that nothing was amiss and all the inscribed runes were still properly lit up, he turned to follow Roman, beckoning to the golem to follow.

Now came for the nerve-wracking part: ensuring that the runic alterations would take proper effect, something that could only be done by introducing the two.

It was a relatively short walk to the clearing, and once they were close, Roman picked up his pace to sprint ahead and let Patton and Anxiety know that the first test of Logan’s handiwork was about to begin. Since the golem was relatively slow unless agitated, Logan remained behind, walking slowly at its side to keep it on course.

By the time they reached the clearing, everyone was prepared. In Anxiety’s case, perhaps even over-prepared, going by the characteristic ozone scent that cropped up whenever the enderman teleported too many times in a small space. Roman’s apprehension must have unsettled him as well— they did call him Anxiety for a reason, after all.

Concealing a sigh, Logan stepped forward into the clearing and to the side to make way for the construct trailing behind him, clearing his throat as though everyone’s gazes weren’t already locked on his approach. “Anxiety, our iron golem is right behind me. If it locks onto you and begins to move quickly, teleporting a chunk away should be far enough for it to calm down. It won’t harm any of us, as I’ve said before.”

There was an otherworldly hum of acknowledgement, and he noted that Anxiety had settled in front of Patton, rather than behind. By now, everyone had become well-adjusted to making sure to avoid eye contact with their easily-agitated friend, but usually, Anxiety still showed a clear preference for teleporting directly behind any one of them.

(Personally, Logan believed it was at least in part due to the way Roman would always shriek in startlement when Anxiety appeared behind him. Their unusual enderman was difficult to parse at times, but his penchant for mischief wasn’t particularly hard to pick up on.)

This test must have had him truly on edge. Logan turned to watch the golem lumber into the clearing, keeping his own posture forcibly relaxed as he mentally prepared to do damage control if this little experiment failed.

The iron golem drew to a stop a few steps in, its field of vision sweeping over all of them, and the moment stretched. It then made a grinding stone-on-stone rumble inquisitively, as though curious as to why all of them were so tense.

The sigh of relief was audible, even in Anxiety’s warped voice. Logan adjusted his glasses and only barely refrained from flaunting his success over Roman in the name of keeping the current peace. “Anxiety, you should be safe to approach, and I encourage you to do so. If you’re able to interact at close range with the iron golem, that should confirm that each and every one of the adjustments have set in properly.”

Anxiety warbled, teleporting back and forth a few blocks as he often did while nervous, and Patton reached out to give him a supportive pat on the arm.

“This is the one who was looking out for me before I met you,” he told Anxiety, offering an encouraging smile. “I think you two will get along well!”

Anxiety was quiet for a moment, and then walked forward on spindly legs, approaching the guardian with all due tentativeness. The iron golem tilted its head upwards to look at the enderman, making another rumble as it swung its arms back and forth absently, entirely unconcerned with what would normally be a serious enemy to it.

Anxiety ‘vrrp’-d back at the golem, circling around it in an unsteady circle, like a bee around a flower. The golem turned in a slow rotation to follow the enderman’s movement, still languid and unhurried. It painted a rather cute picture, if Logan was honest.

Patton clapped his hands together in glee, happy that they’d managed a successful interaction. Somehow, Logan was reminded of the first time he’d introduced his familiar to Patton’s pet cat. The felines’ resulting tolerance of each other had earned a similar reaction.

“There we have it,” he concluded, satisfied with a job well done. “Anxiety is no longer at any risk from the town’s guardian.”

Roman sidled up next to him, apparently content to ignore Logan’s somewhat self-satisfactory tone. “You know, if you’d told me this was what I’d be helping with a month ago, I wouldn’t have believed you for love or diamonds.”

“Yes, well, I could have said much the same at many points over my acquaintanceship with Patton,” Logan replied, watching as the iron golem slowly offered Anxiety a poppy, as though confused as to why the enderman was still persistently bobbing around it. Anxiety seemed immediately charmed by the gesture. “By now, I suspect I’m growing rather used to it.”

“At least I handled our newest friend better than our first meeting, hm?” Roman said wryly, and Logan exchanged an amused look with him. “Maybe I’m getting used to it, too.”

A few yards away, Patton was still practically jumping for joy. He turned to the two of them, beaming. “Now we can introduce Anxiety to the rest of the village!”

The look they exchanged this time was far more alarmed. “Patton, I’m not so sure that’s the best idea…”

Across the clearing, the iron golem tilted its head curiously as the enderman next to it abruptly teleported a fair few blocks away to hide behind a tree.

Huh. Seemed the latest and strangest addition to the village was shy.

#tss fanfic #sanders sides fic #ts roman #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #my writing #writing #minecraft au

[dotemakesthings]

forgotten but not gone

(please be gentle, y’all, this is the first public fic I’ve posted since basically… ever)

inspired by/remix of the cursed light by datfearlessfangirl

okay, so.

the first Split was relatively harmless, believe it or not. it separated out Remus and Roman, sure, but the sides all still lived together and cared about each other.

as a teen/young adult, the sides were in cutesy little pairs.

Janus and Roman, the theater gays.

Virgil and Logan, the couple that considers sitting silently in a room together with headphones on a romantic activity.

and Remus and Patton, the chaotic powerhouses who love nothing more than making messes in the kitchen and screaming I-love-you’s from across the house.

but then

the second split.

it was a crisis of morality and identity on Thomas’s part

so intense that it ripped the mindscape in two

the “acceptable” sides simply got their memories wiped, starting from scratch

while the dark sides were locked away and hurt.

now, neither side knew about the others and the effect it had on them

so when the light sides saw a closet oozing with Bad Feelings, they felt it best to investigate for the good of Thomas

and they were greeted with monsters.

Remus, screaming out horrific imagery and banging his head raw and bloody against the wall

Virgil, spiraling into such a bad panic attack that the shadows around him were lashing out without him realizing

and Janus, fangs and all six arms out, who uncontrollably lied about how they were useless here, how they weren’t wanted, they needed to get out, ssssstupid little sides

the lights screamed

and ran out

the darks chased them

because, here’s the thing

imagine you have known someone all your life. you know their tics, what makes them happy

and you’re not afraid of what they’re like when they’re in distress, because you know what to expect. and you know you’re safe with them.

now. imagine meeting someone for the first time on your absolute worst day.

that’s what happened to the darks.

the Patton of before would have rushed to Remus, gently guiding him away from the wall and crooning soothing nonsense to drown out his babble about death and gore and being alone alone alone

the Roman of before would have nodded and taken none of what Janus was saying at face value, cradling Janus’s hands in his own and humming a quiet tune 

and the Logan of before would have tapped out a slow, calm rhythm next to Virgil until he could breathe and handle touch again

but they didn’t know any of that anymore.

all they saw were monsters.

and all the dark sides saw were their friends, family, lovers there when they needed help. 

the light sides fled back to the upper mindscape 

and the darks slammed into the barrier

screaming and clawing at the invisible wall

for someone to help

for their family to look at them

for someone to explain what was going on

and the light sides closed and locked the door with a sigh of shaky relief.

now, the light sides develop something of an ingrained bad reaction to the darks due to this colossally bad first impression.

Patton: disgust, fear, thin veneer of trying to be polite while getting them to leave the vicinity as soon as possible

Logan: coldness, indifference. not cruelty but no warmth or allowances

Roman: fear masked by anger and intense protectiveness.

and the dark sides all deal with the upheaval, betrayal, and pain in different ways.

Virgil: depressed, afraid, tends to lash out at the slightest provocation. goes from snarky to mean.

Janus: gives up and pretends everything is fine. sees no point in hurting himself to get something back that can't be replaced or repaired. covers heartbreak with snark. can't quite stop himself from flirting with Roman but pretends it's just manipulation. focuses just on Thomas and what's best for him, ignoring all else.

Remus: wears his rotting heart on his sleeve. tries the hardest to get Patton back and is the least equipped to do so. isn't exactly trying to keep the others' spirits up, but more just doesn't lose hope that they can somehow fix this. 

the dark sides can only come to the main mindscape at all at night at first.

the barrier stops them any other time

it’s Remus who finds out first, mindlessly banging his head against the barrier to pass the time only to fall flat on his face when it fizzles out

and they all slowly start sneaking in at night to see the home that they were thrown out of

and slowly, the lights start having odd little incidents

nothing in person, at first.

Roman: he finds something in progress and abandoned at the border between the imagination halves that he and Remus both worked on. he can't figure out why it looks so recent even though he can’t remember ever getting along with his brother this well.

Patton: he's having a Sad Night. he thinks he's hiding it well, but someone (Virgil) notices and leaves him cookies that are one of his favorites. not a secret recipe, just ones he likes. there's a little note saying that sometimes it's okay to have a second cookie. Patton can't figure out who would know him this well.

Logan: he’s dealing with an absolute menace of a meeting. he gets back to his room, seething all the way, to see a plain porcelain plate with an unsigned note saying “break me all you want, nerd! I’ll put myself back together!”. he experimentally drops it from a few feet up. it shatters with a very satisfying crack and then, a few seconds later, reassembles itself in his hand. he has a grand old time shattering the plate against the wall again and again until his rage has subsided to a manageable level. he can’t figure out who would come up with an idea like this.

and then there start being little middle-of-the-night interactions. because for some reason, the light sides have a much harder time falling asleep nowadays.

Virgil looks over Roman’s shoulder as he watches a Disney movie in the living room at three AM to try and fall asleep. Anxiety offers a teasing insult to the protagonist. Roman jumps out of his skin, at first threatening to stab him, but then lets him tentatively settle in on the counter behind him. they roast the movie together, gradually picking up steam until Roman actually laughs at something Anxiety says. they both freeze and stare at each other for a heartbeat until Roman sinks out without a word.

Patton finds himself tucked into bed after a too-long day sorting through Thomas' emotional responses. when he wakes up, there's a somehow still steaming cup of sweet herbal tea that tastes like a snickerdoodle. he vaguely remembers a soft voice hissing at him that he needs to pay more attention to his own needs.

Logan is reading philosophy textbooks and muttering to himself out loud. Janus offers a quiet critique. they have a heartbeat of wonderful discussion before Logan "remembers" himself and shuts it down.

eventually, through all this, their memories start coming back. it’s triggered slowly through their platonic interactions with their friends, and then all at once by their romantic partners.

(because the love of friends is just as impactful and important as the love of a partner)

Patton: 

Patton is sad and frustrated, muttering to himself and pacing in the kitchen.

someone walks in and he immediately stops and snaps into happy pappy Patton mode. “Oh hey, kiddo-“

it's Remus, who just cocks his head and says "you know you don't have to do that with me, right?"

and after some protesting on Morality’s part

he ends up goading Patton into a very cathartic expression of anger, fear, and frustration, and helps him sort it out. 

at some point, Remus has shifted to holding Patton in a loose embrace as Patton waves his hands and rants and sobs.

Patton doesn’t realize that he burrows deeper into Remus’ arms every time he wiggles.

to the point that he’s turned sideways in Remus’ lap, with one arm curled around him and the other one free to gesture.

and then when it’s all over, they’re talked out, and it’s almost sunrise, Remus reluctantly starts to tear himself away. 

and Patton, who quite suddenly cannot bear the thought of Remus letting him go, holds on

Logan: 

panic attacks? Logan? certainly not. he doesn’t get those.

so when he finds himself gasping for air, feeling like his chest is on fire, and locked into his worst thoughts, he doesn’t know what to do

because he knows how to treat panic attacks

but this isn’t one. definitely

and even if it was, for some reason all his knowledge on how to treat them is slipping from his mind no matter how hard he tries to reach from it

you have to breathe? somehow? but he can’t breathe, can’t think

and somehow through it, he hears a raspy voice

counting steadily and quietly

and he realizes that there’s a stim toy placed in his hands that he’s wringing.

and it looks familiar, but he knows he’s never seen it before

and there’s soft, flowy music playing from a Bluetooth speaker next to him

and that feels familiar too

and without quite knowing why, only having a bone-deep certainty that it’ll help, he slumps over into the person sitting next to him

smells lavender and laundry detergent

feels soft fabric under his cheek

and suddenly everything snaps into place

oh

of course

why does he feel so safe? because he’s with the safest person in the world.

Roman: 

okay so

Roman alternates between being scared of Deceit and feeling extremely attracted to him

this, naturally, freaks Roman out

and he expresses this by getting more and more aggressive towards Janus

at some point, he panics and attacks Deceit

Deceit freezes with Roman’s sword to his throat. they stare at each other

before Janus sinks out

a day or so later, he comes back

all six hands up, ungloved, and open to show that he means no harm

“You win.”

“… What?” says Roman.

“You. Win. I’m tired of fighting you. Grant me one last request and you’ll never have to see me again.”

some buried part of Roman is conflicted. but his conscious self jumps at the opportunity. “What do you want, snake?”

“Dance with me.”

“… What.”

“Grant me the honor of one dance, my prince, and I’ll leave. You’ll never have to deal with my presence again.”

And Roman, wary of some trap but eager to be rid of the beautiful confusing disgusting snake, agrees.

They rise up in an elegantly decorated ballroom

dressed in a fancy suit (Roman) and an elegant ballgown (Deceit)

and they dance

at first, stilted and formal

keeping to the steps and no more

but then Janus seems to come to some internal conclusion

and folds himself in close to Roman

before spinning outwards, skirt swirling, and coming back in

and somehow, without Roman quite knowing why, they’re dancing.

flourishes, leaning into each other, Roman even lifting Deceit into the air at one point

and his heart keeps pinging strangely

aching

(familiar, this is familiar, you’ve done this before)

but eventually, the dance has to end

and they both come to a stop as the song finishes, panting heavily

Janus is smiling through his heavy breaths

and Roman finds he is too

but Janus’ smile cracks and falls and he steps back.

“Well,” he says. “That was the deal.”

and he lifts Roman’s hand, which somehow has his sword in it although it didn’t a second before, so that the blade is at his throat

just like the night before

“One quick cut ought to do it.”

Self Preservation exposes his throat to his beloved. 

because he doesn't want to hurt Roman. 

because this dance was his last selfish act before he gives up

one last moment to remember his prince by

and Roman pauses with his sword at Janus’ throat.

because Roman can't figure out why Janus, the evil self serving snake, wouldn't take an opportunity to hurt him to save himself

why he asked for this dance at all

why his arms around him felt like home

and all of a sudden

the memories he’s been denying all this time hit him like a truck

and he remembers

(after all that, Roman congratulates Janus on his idea to bring his memories back by dancing together)

(Janus smiles at him and changes the subject)

the barrier weakens the more that the lights feel comfortable around the darks.

the more that Thomas feels comfortable around them.

by the time everyone’s memory is back, it’s like it was never there at all.

#sanders sides #analogical #roceit #intruality #dote writes things #moduke #sanders sides fic #tss fanfic #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders

[pencilpat]

Concepts for an AU about the dark sides! I'll be writing a fic about these guys at a later date.

They're in a semi-modern fantasy universe where demons, fae, and such are known of phenomena but aren't treated well by society because of those ways of being.

Virgil was raised in a long family line of 7th-son-of-a-7th-sons, with the natural ability to see through the disguises and glamors other creatures put on. His father, Patton, trained him in the family way of being a bounty hunter that captures creatures for the people seeking them out. His pseudonym is 'Guide'. Virgil will come to find that this way of life is incredibly wrong. However, this is Virgil's first solo hunt without his father, his first time being alone and in full control, after so many years of being babied through their hunts. He cannot fuck this up.

Remus is his current target and is terrible at blending in with humans for obvious reasons (i.e., weirdly proportioned anatomy, giant fucking tentacles). It was blamed for the murder of a man falsely when the town it lived in discovered it hiding there. Virgil was hired to hunt it down.

Janus is the one hiding Remus. In fact, he's known very widely in the creature community for hiding other monsters with ease. Janus has the power of Persuasion. Humans tend to believe everything he says immediately once he speaks it. Only humans trained against fae deception tactics can even come close to breaking out of the hold his words have on people. Janus took on hiding Remus when hearing his story, and has been running him around several countries trying to shake Virgil's tailing of them. But Virgil is the most determined hunter he's ever met and that is.... fascinating to him.

(And yes they all fall in love and kiss by the end)

#monster hunter au #sanders sides #virgil sanders #anxceitmus #remus sanders #janus sanders #tss fanfic #tss au #sasi au #sanders sides au #ts virgil #ts remus #ts janus #sanders sides fanart #alternate universe

[roseianxiety]

All wrapped up by the fireplace

Ship: Romantic Roceit

Content Warnings: Mentions of alcohol usage, drunkenness, foul language, slight innuendo

Synopsis: Roman has some alone time with himself after their little Christmas Eve celebration, but a certain drunken snake approaches him and ruins his peace. At least that's what he thinks.

AO3

“Roman, is it really necessary for you to turn the living room into THIS?” 

Logan queries loudly as he gestures to the living room, now completely covered in Christmas decor and where their TV stood was now replaced with a grand brick fireplace. Roman really put a lot of effort into all this grandiosity.

“Yes, Logan, it is necessary.” Roman drawled out as he gave Logan a look while hanging the last ornament on the Christmas tree. He then added, hopping off his little stool. “You'd really expect ME to NOT go all out on Christmas?” he remarked at Logan.

Logan merely sighs and rolls his eyes, making his way towards his recliner chair. “I shouldn't have expected less from you and Patton when it comes to celebrating festivities,” he stated, gently sitting down and opening up one of the newspapers Virgil gave him. 

Roman hums proudly before strutting to the kitchen to check on whatever Patton was working on.

“Hey, Popstar, how's the baked goods doing there?” Roman questions cheerily from across the counter, propping his palm under his chin while he watches Patton do his thing.

Patton turns around, slightly surprised at Roman's sudden appearance but then giggles. “Oh hey ya, kiddo, didn't see you there.”. He continued, pulling out a tray of gingerbread man cookies out of the oven. “I'm almost done with the last batch. Careful, they're very hot.”.

He says before placing the tray down on the countertop to let it cool. Roman immediately reaches for one but hisses in pain and pulls his hand back when he burns himself with the piping-hot cookies. “Ow…”.

Patton tuts and shakes his head at Roman's impulsiveness, “I did tell you they're hot. You saw me take them out of the oven just now.”. He reaches to take Roman's hand but the other declines and pulls away. 

“Nah, it's okay. This burn is far from reaching my intestines anyway, so I'm cool. I was merely excited to taste your fantastic cookies, Padre.” Roman shrugs and moves to try and take one but Patton gently slaps his hand away. The creative prince pouts at that.

“No no, they're still piping hot. And, we still have to wait for the last batch before we can finally eat all of these.” Patton states with a raised chin, trying to seem authoritative but he looks silly and cute. Don't tell him that.

“Bummer,” Roman mutters with a pout before sighing. He straightens (ha!) his posture and stretches his arms over his head, turning on his heels. “Anyways, you better continue that while I go check whatever chaos Remus is doing. Don't want him ruining my party.”.

He says as he makes his way back to the living room. As he does so, he could see Virgil hissing aggressively at Remus while his twin brother was teasing the crap out of the anxious facet.

“Come on, take him! He's Mr. Fuzzy’s boyfriend!” Remus exclaimed, trying to give another handcrafted hairball abomination to Virgil who was desperately trying to get away from him. And Janus was there, laughing his drunk ass off by the sidelines.

Virgil notices Roman walking towards them and immediately calls for him while trying to stop Remus from getting close to him. “Roman! Come get your unhinged brother!” He exclaimed, before hissing at Remus.

“Hi, Roman~” Janus giggles drunkenly as he gives Roman a small. Geez… he really was drunk. Roman chooses to ignore him.

“Sorry Virgil but you're gonna have to deal with him yourself.” Roman hums, raising his hands in defense. Virgil groans at his response, now more annoyed. Remus then pushes the hairball abomination right at Virgil's face, causing the other to yelp.

Roman leaves them be and walks towards the couch, plopping just beside Logan who was engrossed with his puzzle thing or whatever it was. He tried to take a peek at it only for his face to scrunch up in confusion, not understanding one bit of it. Roman didn't what was so interesting about it but eh, at least Logan was having the time of his life.

He leans back on the couch while he watches as the fire crackles in the fireplace, emitting a cozy warmth that he always loved. Roman might now admit it out loud but he loved enjoying his Christmas with everyone. It’s good not to be alone.

“To be honest, I didn't think Remus would be this… tame when he is drunk. How surprising.” Logan comments as looks down at Remus on the floor before sipping on his wine. The chaotic individual was currently splayed out on the living room floor, already deadbeat asleep.

Patton carefully takes the empty mug from Remus’ grasp, trying not to wake him up. “So alcohol is just the way to calm him down?” He says, letting out a soft yelp when Remus grumbles and pulls the mug away from him, hugging it close. Patton frowns and leans back on the couch but not before grabbing two cookies from the snack platter.

“You know, it's already late and I already feel the spirit of Christmas welling up inside me. And by that, I mean vomit. Merry Christmas y'all, I'm gonna go bury myself in the comforts of my blankets.” Virgil suddenly says as he gets up from his usual place on the couch before sinking out, not letting anyone say a word.

Logan proceeds to check the time on his wristwatch. “Virgil is right, it is past twelve and my bedtime schedule. Merry Christmas everyone. Be sure to sleep well.” He says in a monotone, glancing at the rest of them. He then leaves as well, following right after Virgil.

“Aww geez, everyone's going to sleep now. I'm starting to feel eepy too. So sorry your party didn't go the way you wanted it to, Roman.” Patton apologizes with a small frown as he looks at the princely trait but Roman waves it off.

“It's quite alright, Patton, I am not easily upset at something so trivial.” He says casually, getting up from his spot on the couch and beginning to stretch his arms, hearing satisfying pops from his joints. “You go ahead and rest your adorable self, I'll deal with all the mess here.” Roman then added.

“Are you sure? I can help you—”

Roman immediately cuts Patton off before he can even continue his sentence, “Shush, Patton. I can handle this. You've been dozing off a lot, it's best for you to rest.”.

“Plus, I've still got a pump of adrenaline in me so I'm not that tired yet. I'm gonna spend all that leftover energy cleaning all of this.” He chuckles, trying to reassure the fatherly figure.

“Oh…if you say so. But don't forget to rest too. Merry Christmas, kiddo! I love you!” Patton exclaims before throwing himself on Roman, giving the other a tight, warm hug. Roman smiles fondly, hugging the other back. Eventually, Patton sinks out and returns to his room.

When Patton left, Roman immediately started his work. He cleaned all of the junk left in the living room, from the torn gift wrappers to the various cookie crumbs lying around. Roman resorted to carrying Remus onto the couch, Remus might not be the physically built one between them but God, was he heavy. 

He continued to clean the living room and even cleaned the kitchen as well, making sure there wasn't any mess left in the morning. After half an hour or so, he was finally done.

He makes a little nest out of pillows and blankets by the fireplace before situating himself in his creation. Even after all that cleaning, he still wasn't tired. And he couldn't think of anything to do. So why not look at fire instead?

Janus stumbles down from the stairs, drunk as fuck. He was planning to get some water but his eyes landed on something by the fireplace. Or more likely, someone.

“My my, what's our beloved prince doing here all by himself?”

Roman suddenly snaps his head back as soon as he hears that all too familiar sultry voice. His eyes narrow at the very presence of his archenemy. Janus was making his way towards him, while almost tripping on his own feet. He clearly was still not sober.

“What do you want, Janus? I'm not exactly in the mood to deal with you right now.” Roman groaned before turning back to the fireplace, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What? Am I not allowed to be in the living room? I just wanna get warm.” Janus huffs before plopping down beside the prince, causing the other's face to scrunch up more in frustration and annoyance. Roman scoots away from him and avoids meeting his gaze. He crosses his arms further, a big pout already forming on his lips. 

There was a big silence between them, and Roman liked it that way. Heck, he even forgot Janus was there beside him in the first place. Out of annoyance and trying to avoid the other, he got distracted by watching the fire slowly move and crackle in an intricately artistic dance. Not until Janus said the most out-of-pocket thing ever which ruined the vibe.

“You know, you could've done other things to warm me up than buy me socks.”

Those. Those were the very words that ruined his perfectly good vibes. Because what the actual fuck!?

“W-what? No!” Roman remarked quickly in sheer embarrassment, his whole face as red as his sash. Now why did Janus have to say that?!

Janus only tilted his head at him, staring at him innocently for a few minutes before letting out a sadistic cackle, making Roman turn red. “I'm just messing with you, Roman.”.

He then stops momentarily, batting his eyelashes at Roman as he bites his lips suggestively. “Unless you want to…”.

Roman's whole face immediately burned up like the fire in the fireplace. For some random reason, the way Janus was saying that in a low and sultry voice while biting his lip was absolutely sending him. Jesus Christ on a stick, it was not the right time to be a gay mess.

“How many bottles of wine have you drunk today?” Roman queries, gently gripping Janus' face as he tries to look for any sign of sobriety.

“Just a bit. Like, three or four bottles. I don't know, I forgot. Silly me.” Janus giggles, looking up at Roman with a drunken gaze, his whole face dusted in pink. Okay, but truth be told, he was quite cute when he was not up to something devious. Not that Roman would admit it.

“Geez, you're so drunk right now. You need to go back to your room and sleep.” Roman clicked his tongue before letting go of Janus, causing the other to slump forward against him.

The deceitful facet whined, clinging close to him. “I'm not drunk! I am very sober as you can see. Iz jus very very cold… hmm, you're warm.” he grumbled lowly, nuzzling close to Roman. The creative prince was having second thoughts if he should push Janus away or let him cuddle with him, he's still not on good terms with Janus after all and the latter was drunk.

“Even while drunk you still have the gall to lie.” Roman scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

“So warm… you are like a walking furnace. Very warm. I like warmth.” Janus babbled, not wanting to let go of Roman. The other could do nothing but grimace, having no choice but to let Janus cling to him like a koala bear.

“Not gonna lie, you're sorta cute when you're drunk. And pretty annoying too.” Roman commented, glancing at Janus for a moment.

“Awww, you think I'm cute AND pretty, Roman? Do you like meeee?”

The creative trait could feel his cheeks heat up at Janus' bold words. He tries to hide his blush by averting his gaze from Janus while his heart begins to ram against his ribcage.

“No way! I-I meant pretty annoying! Nothing else.” Roman exclaims in defense but Janus merely chuckles at him, clearly not convinced with his answer. And of course, Janus doesn't stop taunting him.

“Then why are you blushing?~” Janus teases as he reaches to grab Roman's face, urging the other to look at him. 

“I'm not!”

“You so are.”

Roman let out a frustrated groan and covered his face. Janus was going to be the death of him if he didn't stop teasing him. He wanted to rip out his hair and scream. Roman took back what he said, Janus was not cute when he was drunk, more like annoying.

“By the way, how did you know I'm cold-blooded? I never truly told anyone that.” Janus wonders, seemingly having calmed down from his amusement. Roman glances at him, slightly caught off guard by his question.

Roman thinks for a moment, he didn't think of the possibility that Janus might ask that question. When he got Janus for Secret Santa, his first plan was to give him something shitty like a passive-aggressive letter but he scrapped that because he might seem like too much of an asshole. So he went for something useful. He may or may not have done some research for Janus' gift.

“I just assumed because you're a snake and all,” Roman muttered, still refusing to look at Janus at the fear that the other would tease the crap out of him or if his heart would fully jump out of his chest. “They're not that special, just some pair of yellow socks.”.

“I like them though, they're yellow and keep my feet warm.” Janus hums happily before raising one of his feet up to show off his cool new socks, then wiggles his toes a bit just to fuck with Roman. The princely facet gave him a disgusted look but it quickly melted away into a hearty laugh.

“Didn't expect you'd wear them immediately. Thought you might throw it away because it does not match your ‘Disney Villain’-esque aesthetic.” Roman chuckles softly. Janus smiles at him, a sincere and genuine one at that.

Roman wanted to admit it, but Janus was growing on him. He had never seen this side of him before when he was sober. He was less villainy and scheme-y, although Janus still got that sass and all. Yet it was his first time seeing him smile so genuinely. It was a fresh sight to see.

Their eyes suddenly met for a moment, the both of them could feel a quick spark of electricity as soon as their gaze landed on each other. Roman could only watch as Janus slowly leaned closer toward him, almost climbing on his lap. 

They stare at each other intently, not knowing what will happen. Roman's gaze moved from Janus' eyes down to his lips, then back up, before gulping softly. There was a pregnant pause between them, but it was broken when Janus leaned forward, closing the gap between them.

Sparks fly as their lips collide in a kiss, likening it to a fireworks display. All the background noises seemed to quiet down behind them, only the loud thumps of their passionate hearts that seemed to jump out of their chests could be heard. Roman only stared at Janus in shock as he sat there, frozen. His brain was still processing what was happening. 

But before he could, Janus suddenly pulled away. 

“I love you…” He mutters against Roman's lips before moving away to rest his head on the prince’s shoulder.

Then it finally clicked to Roman. He snapped out of his trance and immediately reached to touch his lips with his fingers, trying to feel the bits of the presence of Janus' kiss as his whole face warmed up. Janus kissed him and confessed to him… Janus…kissed…him

.

.

.

.

.

.

JANUS KISSED HIM!

The realization dawned upon him like being hit with a ten-wheeler truck. Did this mean Janus liked him all this time?! No… no, that can't be the case, right? He was drunk. That cannot be true… right? But it did seem genuine.

He was about to question Janus when he realized the other had already fallen asleep while lying on his shoulder. Really? He just kissed Roman and gave him a dilemma then went to sleep!

Roman let out a groan, mentally slapping himself on the face. He did not want his Christmas to start with him overthinking about this. After a long while, he lets out a long sigh, choosing to accept his reality. Maybe Janus did like him. But does he like him back?

He glances at Janus once more, observing his features. Huh, his scales were interesting up close. They shine like emeralds. A small smile creeps up on Roman's lips while he watches Janus sleep peacefully, he really is stunning.

Janus suddenly shudders in his sleep, clinging more to Roman. The personification of creativity notices this and decides to pull the other closer, basically letting his archenemy cuddle him. Roman looks around for the blankets until he finds one, draping it around him and Janus, hoping that would shield them from the chilly breeze.

Roman then queries softly, “Still cold?”. 

Janus then unconsciously shakes his head as a response while he nuzzles the other. The creative facet chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around Janus to keep him warm.

He continues to observe the other for a few moments, watching as he softly breathes and snore. It was cute. This could be good blackmail material for Janus, but Roman wasn't exactly in the mood. All he wanted to do right now was admire him. Roman then whispers to him, pressing a gentle kiss on Janus’ forehead. 

“I love you too, Janus.”

-----------------------------------

Writing Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @extraintrovertedalien (please tell me if you want to be added or removed in the tag list)

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #tss fanfic #roman sanders #roman sanders sides #janus sanders #janus sanders sides #roceit #roceit fanfic #roceit fanfiction #ts roceit #romantic roceit #alcohol cw #tw all caps

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

The Weight of Being a "Good Friend"

@tss-anxceit-week Day 3: Trust & Betrayal Canonverse 2,535 Words

Logan appeared in Virgil’s room with his arms folded behind his back, looking at Virgil pointedly. Virgil tensed and paused chewing on his nails to look at him, jumping off the top of his couch to greet him. After a shared quizzical expression, Logan cleared his throat.

“Yeah? What is it?” Virgil demanded, not bothering with politeness or disguising the fatigue in his voice.

 Logan nodded to the couch and Virgil stepped back to let Logan in, who went to go sit on the couch. Virgil shut the door quietly and went to go lean on the wall near him, swallowing heavily and looking down to the ground.

“Virgil, you know I do not handle emotional aspects, but I have been... concerned about your behaviour lately. You seem to always be tired, and you haven’t been talking to Thomas, either. It’s obvious that something is wrong, but I don’t know what it is.” Logan said quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand.

"I’m fine, Logan.” Virgil glanced up at Logan through his bangs, who’s face remained apprehensive. “Yeah, you don’t believe that. Well, whatever. I’m not talking about it. Everybody will think I’m blowing things out of proportion.” Virgil shook his head, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets.

“I promise I will not. Virgil, I need to know what’s going on. This does not seem sustainable,” Logan pleaded emphatically, gripping at his knees.

Virgil hesitated, examining Logan’s face for a moment. His brow was furrowed, and he worried his lip with his teeth for a second before noticing and stopping. “I’ll think about it,” Virgil offered instead. Logan watched Virgil a little longer before nodding in agreement. “Get back to your busy schedule. I’m going to bed.” He stood up straight from off the wall, and Logan looked at him in surprise for a second before getting off the couch. It wasn’t that late, but the expanded dark patches under his eyes and unusually pale color of his skin said that he needed the rest. Virgil watched him closely as he moved, his eyes tracking Logan with a weak wave as he lowered out of the room.

Logan hummed curiously and walked down the stairs and to the kitchen table, depositing himself on a chair. Roman and Patton were situated on the couch, watching TV along with Thomas quietly. It seemed like an average evening. Logan summoned his planner and reviewed the schedule, like he often did in the evenings, but he struggled with focusing. He glanced up at the stairs once more and sighed. Anxiety was still clearly very present in Thomas’s life, but Virgil not communicating about his issue was a problem.

The way Patton also worried his lip when he thought no one was looking made the inefficacy more apparent. Logan was frustrated by missing information and left feeling restless when there were unresolved problems. He took a deep breath and put his head down on the table, pushing the schedule aside. 

“What’s got ya down, kiddo?” Patton asked, leaning in near Logan. Logan jumped slightly in surprise, not realizing Patton had gotten so close.

“I am simply tired, Patton. I think it would be wise to turn in early tonight,” Logan stated, sitting up at the table and adjusting his tie. “I’d like to set an alarm so that Thomas doesn’t stay up late on his phone again,” he added, projecting slightly louder for Roman to hear.

“What if the next post is the right inspiration he needs for something new?” Roman pipped up, looking more interested in the television than the conversation.

“He can find it tomorrow. He will not have the time or the energy to do anything with the inspiration tonight. He could perhaps even miss the post that might be inspiring in his exhaustion,” Logan pointed out the obvious flaw in his logic.

“Last time we tried that, Thomas just turned off the alarm and kept scrolling.” Patton pulled out a dining chair and joined Logan at the table.

“If we come to an accord and agree to not do that tonight, it should not be an issue again,” Logan asserted, pulling the schedule back up to him to return to examining.

“That sounds fair,” Patton said, nodding sagely and holding his chin. “Roman?” He called out to confirm.

“Fine. I guess.” Roman agreed as well, though clearly very reluctantly. Logan let out a small breath of relief and let Thomas know to set a ‘doom-scroll’ alarm for later. Logan glanced over to Virgil’s door again, wondering if Virgil was already asleep.

“Are you wondering if Virge is gonna join us tonight?” Patton asked, folding one arm on the table and propping up his head with the other.

“No, Virgil stated that he was going to bed earlier.” Logan shook his head and flipped the page on his planner, making sure the things that were missed today were recorded to do tomorrow.  

“Oh! Now, that’s surprising from my spooky son. Last month, I caught him sitting under the kitchen table watching conspiracy theories on his phone at two in the morning while I was trying to figure out why Thomas couldn’t fall asleep,” Patton explained with a slight fond chuckle.

“Indeed,” Logan hummed. “I doubt that will be a problem tonight. He appeared to be incredibly exhausted when he told me he was going to bed.” He summoned a pencil to adjust the time on something scheduled for tomorrow that did not seem like it had enough of a time cushion.

“He really hasn’t been around much,” Patton mused, throwing a glance at the stairs and sounding melancholy.

“It has been quite quiet,” Roman stated, shifting on the living room floor as he kept watching television.

“Those are both accurate summations,” Logan validated both their points distractedly.

“Are you worried about Virgil?” Patton asked kindly, looking at Logan with a soft expression.

“I am always concerned with productivity. Thomas is very hard to work with when he keeps falling prey to distractions.” Logan rubbed his face, knocking at his glasses briefly before adjusting them back into position.

“I think he’s easier to work with,” Roman muttered under his breath.

“We have very different jobs, Roman, and I know you are also frustrated by the current state of Thomas’s hair,” Logan reminded him passively.

“Ugh, we better not get any visitors or video calls,” Roman groaned.

“We’re just home alone watching TV, you two, there’s no harm in messy hair,” Patton chided, tapping the table.

“I am aware, Patton, but it is better to be presentable as a form of preparedness rather than letting healthy self-care habits slide. Thomas’s appearance is important to him, and that changing suddenly is an indicator of an issue,” Logan reminded them, adjusting his glasses. Logan looked up from planner and over to Thomas, who wasn’t even watching TV and on his phone again, already doom-scrolling. Logan groaned, closing up the planner and sending it off, standing up from the couch.

“What’s up, teach?” Roman asked, distracted by looking over Thomas’ shoulder to see the phone.

“I don’t believe anything productive is happening tonight,” Logan replied shortly. “Thomas, set an alarm to get ready for bed on your phone,” he told Thomas loudly enough to not be ignored, and Thomas blinked a few times, looking at Logan before switching to the alarm app and setting one for nine PM. “You’ll ignore that one, it is too early. Set an alarm for 11:30 PM and take it seriously when it goes off,” Logan insisted firmly. Roman rolled his eyes, letting out a little huff and Thomas just looked at Logan oddly. “Thomas.”

“Fine, okay, got it,” Thomas replied, setting the alarm where requested. He didn’t seem concerned about not getting enough sleep in the slightest, despite even Virgil valuing that by going to bed early. If Virgil did go to bed, at all. Logan technically couldn’t confirm. The alarm was set, so other than checking in at 11:30, Logan wasn’t needed here for doom-scrolling, so he left to his room to review the memories for the day to make sure the important ones were stored correctly.

———

Virgil paced the room helplessly, long since having given up on trying to sleep. He felt so damn exhausted all the time, but the sleep just wouldn’t come. He was completely on edge, racing thoughts of things that could happen and how terribly things were going plagued every corner of his mind. Checking in on Thomas revealed he was still doom-scrolling, with Patton making quiet awkward stammering noises and looking at the clock. Virgil Let out a heavy sigh and tugged at the zipper on his hoodie sleeve, pulling it up and down while he walked.

“Not that your little failure of a lie earlier wasn’t amusing, Virgil, but if you’re going to go out of your way to fib, shouldn’t you do something more fun than pacing about like a caged animal?” Janus asked in a silky smooth voice, and Virgil jumped, turning to see Janus sitting on the couch with his legs crossed and leaning his chin on an arm resting on his knee.

“Get out of here!” Virgil shot, motioning away.

“Really, you should work on your subterfuge. Dreadful stuff,” Janus teased, grinning at Virgil like a shark would at his dinner.

“I didn’t mean to lie about going to bed, I just couldn’t get to sleep!” Virgil protested, hunching over and glaring at Janus. “Seriously, what are you doing here?” Virgil demanded shortly.

“I was talking about that little squeaky ‘I’m fine’ you tried, but that one was also truly heinous,” Janus replied with the bite of snark.

“Hey, I didn’t squeak!” Virgil clenched his fists as he glowered at Janus.

“Po-tay-to, Po-tot-to,” Janus hummed, drumming his fingers on his chin. “Now, what are you doing trying to lie when it is my thing and clearly not your forté?” He asked with a smug purr in his voice.

Virgil stared at Janus incredulously for a moment, but the expression never faltered, keeping his cool confidence despite the confused stare. “It’s—It’s you, Janus!”

“Yes, lord of the lies, at your service,” Janus said.

“No, I mean, you’re causing this!” Virgil hissed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and returning to pacing.

“If it was me, I would have lied impeccably, thank you very much,” Janus refuted, sitting up and folding his hands on his lap.

“I hate not bringing it up, and I hate trying to be a ‘good friend’,” Virgil muttered, kicking his sneaker as he turned around during his endless march.

“Of course you do. Terrible thing, really. Now, for the spider’s benefit, seeing as I fully understand, can you explain exactly about what?” Janus asked airily, twisting his gloved hand a little in the air.

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed. “Elliot’s new boyfriend, Mitchell. He’s awful. And I know Elliot asked us to let them figure it out themselves. And I know we agreed. But it’s killing me to think about what’s going on behind closed doors if that’s how he acts in public,” he explained bitterly.

Janus froze and blinked, then facetiously coughed a few times to hide his surprise. “Virgil, you know that has nothing to do with us, along with the rest of these things you’re so positive about? He could be just the same, or better. Why are you assuming it’s terrible? And why are you acting like it’s our job to fix it when Elliot is their own person?”

“They’re our friend, and we don’t want them hurt, doy!” Virgil smacked himself in the temple with his fist and made a face.

“You can’t save people from being hurt. It’s just an unfortunate part of life,” Janus replied flatly, his face setting seriously.

“Well, maybe it freaking sucks! Maybe it’s normal to be worried about your friends. Why don’t you look past yourself for one freaking second and see how bad this situation is,” Virgil said angrily, his speed picking up as he walked back and forth.

 “Not like this, you’re blowing things out of proportion,” Janus replied, his voice faltering.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell anyone! You’re always telling me I’m overreacting, but eventually I’m not going to be, and Elliot could be the one suffering for it!” Virgil threw his arms in the air and scuffed his shoe on the carpet.

“Virgil. Stop,” Janus said, and Virgil paused to look at him. Janus patted the spot on the couch next to him, and Virgil stomped over to drop onto the couch, just to make it clear he wasn’t fighting for the sake of fighting. “Sometimes, in life, we have to watch our friends and loved ones suffer. Even though we knew there was a better way. Or a compromise. Because they want to be the ones to make their own mistakes. Elliot asked us to drop it, so we did. We can bring it up again if—”

“When,” Virgil insisted.

“If we see it again. And suggest healthier boundaries, because we don’t want to see them hurt. But I’m afraid it’s Elliot’s life and ultimately Elliot’s choice. And no amount of panic or anger will change that. We simply can’t spend all of our time and energy on trying to change something we have no say in. Thomas is sitting out there doom-scrolling because he’s burnt out, even though he already knows that no amount of Twitter will quiet the duke’s suggestions. You know what to do in these situations already. Now look at me and tell me what we’re going to do,” Janus insisted firmly.

“It’s called ‘X’ now,” Virgil said in annoyance, but Janus only glared at him with thinly pressed lips. “Take a deep breath. Tell myself that this is something I can’t change. Try to adapt. Focus on moving forward,” Virgil recited in defeat.

“Right. And we don’t have to keep silent. Nor do we have to stay friends with Elliot, either, if this keeps hurting us. But we should still respect Elliot’s wishes and assume they can handle themselves. They have done so for all the years before we met them. But it’s still their job to speak up in their relationship if they’re unhappy. If we butt in and try to fix things for them, the odds are good it’ll do nothing but breed resentment. We have to live our life and Elliot has to live theirs,” Janus said reassuringly, melting the bitterness from Virgil’s face. Virgil took a deep breath and nodded, letting out the air as a tired sigh. “Is there anything else I need to intelligently and humbly point out before you kick me out of your room?” Janus teased.

Virgil looked up at him, reaching for the capelet with a small tug. “Stay?” Janus wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulder, and he leaned in, still holding on to the fabric. They sat there in comfortable silence as Virgil’s breathing evened out and the light in the living room went out when Thomas switched it off. “Tell anyone this happened, and I’ll kill you,” Virgil whispered silently.

“I’ll alert the presses,” Janus scoffed, rubbing Virgil’s shoulder. 

#anxceitweek2023 #tsss #sanders sides #ts sides #tsss fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #tsss fanfic #tss #tss fanfic #SaSi #SaSi fanfic #ts sides fanfic #ayri writes #ts virgil #ts janus #anxceit #virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #ts character thomas

[bitterpoison]

Chapter 2 of Logan goes on Strike is on ao3!

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #tss fanfic #tss logan #tss patton #tss roman #tss virgil #C!Thomas #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Thomas Sanders #fanfic

[phantomhunt]

Chapter 4 of Orange is Wrath is out on AO3!!!!!!!!

Finally finished writing it and instantly uploaded it after a quick read, y'all waited for so long and you deserve it!!

Read it here

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #sander sides #sanders asides #sanders sides fandom #sanderssides #thatsthat24 #ts logic #ts logan #ts deceit #ts janus #ts patton #ts remus #ts roman #ts sides #ts virgil #tss janus #tss roman #tss logic #tss logan #tss remus #tss virgil #tss fanfic

[bluuscreen]

at long last i’m finally starting to post my baby who i have nurtured for several years now [<- slow writer]

here’s the first chapter of my patton-and-logan-adopt-virgil vampire au fic ^-^ hell of a premise but in my defense i came up with it when i was 18

Virgil, at only 8 years old, had resigned himself to never having a real family. To growing up in the orphanage where he was left at two years old, with only his roommate to really talk to.

And then, one rainy day, two kind men show up who want to take him in as their own, and the sun shines just a little brighter from then on.

Or: Virgil gets adopted by vampires. What could go wrong?

#.doc #sanders sides #tss fanfic #how do i even tag this #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #feels weird posting a fic on my main blog but i got nowhere else to put it so #aaah i love making stuff for a dying fandom #well. i’m still here and this is more for me than anyone else anyway #so i guess its okay

[fandombead]

Feel-Good Fics for Logan Sanders (TSS) Fans

I love reading Sanders Sides fics and wanted to shout out some underrated writers here that did some amazing work~

This list is of course non-conclusive and I encourage people adding to it! This list is specifically for Logan-centric fics, and I’d like to make one for each side— if my attention span will allow for that XD there’s so many amazing writers though, so I hope to see recs from y’all!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ All fics are SFW & have sympathetic sides! (Note: some have ships)

💙❤️ https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966191

💙📚 https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876252

💙 https://archiveofourown.org/works/32056351

💙 https://archiveofourown.org/works/44407027

💙 https://archiveofourown.org/works/24028849

💙 https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677040

💙🩵📚 https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616662

💙📚 https://archiveofourown.org/series/1361659

💙 https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601408

💙 https://archiveofourown.org/works/14044236

#logan sanders #tss logan #sanders sides fanfiction #tss fanfic #fic recs #fanfiction #sanders sides

[analoceits]

mushroom rings & faery things chapter 1: loyalty

A03 link

note:

thanks to ChaosIsMyName on A03 for reading this over!! theyre the fucking best and yall should read their shit.

also uhh. felt fair to warn that i do NOT pull any punches on my body horror. its brief and skippable but i do get pretty intense when i do go with it soo, yeah. as well this is probably one of the darkest and messiest chapters in this whole fic, and the full promise of older brother remus wont come in till later [like chapter 3] so yeah 3 it will happen eventually but right now everyones too messy to be sweet. you can see the seeds of it start to grow tho!!

tags:

Disabled Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Fae, Body Horror, (for like 1 or 2 paragraphs but yknow), Fae Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Light Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Found Family, Things look Worse Than They are, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders has a Cane, Remus Typical Gore Discussion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Discussions of Death/Grief, no one dies tho,

-

I’m so sorry,

I know you don’t want me to do this, but I know I need too. I can’t go another day not sure if Roman will live or die, and I doubt you guys can either. No matter what you say, I’m indebted to you. It’s time I pay that back. Go to the edge of the woods, my gift will wait there.

With endless loyalty, Virgil.

Virgil pocketed the note in silence. It was the last of many ugly, emotional, gut-wrenching drafts and the only one he could imagine having them read. The only one he had managed to write without crying. With it completed, he had nothing left to do here.

He took one last look at his room from the bed. It didn’t look familiar; he had cleaned up most of his things so they wouldn’t have too while grieving. Still, there were some marks of himself that he couldn’t hide under the bed. 

A scuff in the tile from his boots, old purple sheets torn where he pulled on them too hard, a single blind tied to the rest with green string where he broke it. Family carved into a bed post. Despite his best efforts, there was proof he had lived.

With that bittersweet thought, he pulled himself up off the bed and steadied himself with his cane. He smiled just barely, slowly making his way down the stairs and around the hall. As soon as he was off the stairs, his eyes locked on the front door, but he silently shook his head.

There was one stop before he had to leave.

It took care to ease the bedroom door open silently, but as soon as he did he was at Roman’s bedside. He couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted with guilt at the sight - white bandages wrapping around his stomach where a red sash should be. The only red left was that pouring out of his guts, now.

Between bouts of crying and frantically checking his bandages, Logan had called it a godly miracle he survived. That was, of course, right before Patton physically dragged him to bed for his own sake, but it still held some weight. Their luck couldn’t last them forever, though. 

His eyes darted down to his cane when the thought hit him. The cane was a gift from Roman, one he had carved for hours on hours with painstaking care after Virgil started to complain of his pain. The one with from your family carved under the handle in gentle letters. Virgil had to hold back tears of joy when he first used it.

It was the last gift Roman was able to give him, a gift to make sure he wasn’t in pain. Even with the cane, he couldn't help Patton forage, or Logan shop, or Roman hunt. The thought sent a strange spiraling guilt through Virgil, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t, because he knew he could fix it anyway. No matter how high the price may be.

He slipped the note out of his pocket. It was so small in his hand, but it must’ve weighed ten thousand pounds with how hard it was to hold. He tucked it in between Roman’s fingers with painstaking care. It was the only spot he could think to leave it.

Sparing one last glance to Roman’s limp form, he turned his back on the bed. The satchel felt practically weightless when he pulled it over his shoulder - if you could even call it that. It was tiny, only enough to fill a small cup of milk and a tiny jar of honey. That was all he needed.

Right as he went to stand up, a sharp whimper sounded from behind him. He glanced back to Roman, twisting and turning fitfully in his bed between little cries. Right, nightmares. They had only gotten worse since his accident, Logan had mentioned.

He hesitated before turning around, but he knew he didn’t have the guts to leave him like that. He was loyal to him. His hands were practically shaking as he nervously brushed the hair out of Roman’s face and shushed him, “shh, it’s ok.. there you go, there you go bud. You ain’t got anything to fear, Ro.”

Slowly, Roman stopped his twisting and turning, quieting down. Still, there was the slightest furrow to his brow and Virgil couldn’t help the fond way he sighed. He leaned down over him, brushing a finger over his brow as he kissed his forehead.

As soon as he drew back up, there was a hand softly grasping at his wrist, and it took all his willpower to pull out of the grip. “I know,” he said as he fit the sheets back over Roman, “I don’t want me to leave either.”

It wasn’t hard to open the house door silently and it wasn’t hard to pace down the stone path without his boots or cane making a noise. No, that wasn’t hard, he had practiced. It was hard to not look back. It was so hard, to swallow his guilt and grief and not look at those unlit windows. 

He kept walking anyway.

Their house was near the edge of the woods, so he knew it wasn’t going to be a very long walk. Still, his entire body ached and he stumbled down the path as it turned from stone to gravel, then to dirt, then to overgrown grass. Brambles thickened on either side of the trail.

Finally, he reached the edge of the woods, and it was just as great and imposing as he remembered. Dark, thick leaves hung overhead and any trace of moonlight would be gone as soon as he passed under those trees. He knew he wouldn’t need the light, the path painstakingly memorized but the darkness felt endless nonetheless. 

With one deep breath he pushed between the leaves and made his way onto a deer path carved in the grass. There was just the barest shine from moonlight that managed to worm its way between leaves, and he thanked the heavens for that.

Every passing step through, though, had the moon’s light fading until pure black clawed at the edges of his vision and he could barely see his own boots. The old growth of the forest thickened around him as he went on.

He kicked through undergrowth and slapped at brambles with the edge of his cane. Thick brambles and thorns caught on the edges of his pants, as if the forest itself was pleading with him to head back, but he simply kicked through and continued. No matter what anyone said, he had a duty.

The walk was an hour at most, but it felt like ages. Every step he took he wanted nothing more to turn around and bolt home, but he was not a coward. He was loyal to a default; he would not give up when he was needed. Even if he couldn’t think to call himself a good person, he payed his debts.

Even with the misery, he had a slight bit of company. The sounds of nature churred around him; a breaking stick and then the delighted chirp of grasshoppers, a shrill whistle cry of a bird and then a distant splash from a pond out of his view. The closer he got to his destination, the louder and more frequent the noises became; an accompanying orchestra. He didn’t know if it was a hopeful heroic swell or a tragic one.

Finally, the woods started to clear around him; giving up on fighting him. Slowly, at first, brambles let up and the barest glint of moonlight shone through the trees, and then all at once as the last bit of undergrowth caught on his boots and he stumbled into the clearing.

It was uncomfortably beautiful. The full moon was bright, shining and hearty (he was sure it had been a half-moon when he had entered, but he didn’t think that mattered where he was.) The stars glittered above head along with it and it felt like they were winking down at him for some inside joke he was now in on.

The main thing that caught his eye, however, was the ring of mushrooms. They were stark, bright red and it briefly reminded his of Roman’s garish sash - then it reminded him of his blood, and his heart sank. It was fine, he told himself, he was making it up now.

He took a few paces ahead and then dropped to his knees right in front of the faery ring, carefully and slowly removing the pack from his shoulder and unloading the contents. Milk, honey, and a bowl. Perfect.

A strange sense of calm came over him as he placed the bowl in the farthest point of the ring. It was a painful, aching calm; like he was planning his own funeral. A singular mourner holding vigil for his own life, a living corpse. It was grim, but more than fitting.

The milk and honey smelled disgustingly sweet as he poured them both into the bowl, even if his hands were shaking. The moon and the stars glowed overhead like lanterns - no, eyes, eyes burning into the back of his skull. They waited to see what he would do next; lions waiting to pounce on him.

As soon as the contents were poured out, he lifted himself up with cane and took a step into the circle. His body rocked with invisible force until he dropped and was kneeling, hands desperately wrapped around the still up-right cane like in prayer. It wasn’t really that funny to him, but he didn’t try to move.

Instead, he bowed his head, terror suddenly pounding through his ribs and lungs like a horribly off tune song. Grief ran through jaw and throat, wrapping around it like a snake and making it hard to breath. Grief for himself and grief for growing old with them. Even if he knew he needed to do this, he missed home.

Still, through the aching pain, a deep, indescribable burning set ablaze in his finger tips and deep in his chest, and every spot where Roman’s nimble fingers would cart through his hair when he needed it. He thought that warmth might be called loyalty.

“I have an offering,” his voice was more hoarse than he had expected, but it was good enough. For a brief, but completely nauseating moment, nothing happened. The stars continued to blink above and moonlight danced in his vision.

Then blood welled through the grass, and the earth became an open wound. Dirt pushed itself apart and away, grass seeming to sway to avoid what was crawling out of the earth. Blood and sap, wood and flesh arose all at once in a spiraling tower of something, something that should not exist. Skin knit over pulsating, ugly flesh and a pair of eyes stared at him for something that was supposed to be a face.

Finally, something human like was formed. Human-like, because those few seconds taught Virgil that whatever fae were, they were not human. It stared down at him, a strange blank curiosity on its features. 

As he stared back at it, something suddenly clicked in his brain and he was sure he was going to be sick. He wanted to be wrong, but the only question left was a simple one. Why the hell was Roman here?

No; it wasn’t exactly Roman, but at the same time.. it could only be him. It was a strange, gross sight. The same dorky smile that showed just one too many teeth, but the teeth were as sharp as blades. The same striking green eyes, but an odd cold rested behind them.

The figure - person - fae, fae, had scars littering up and down his skin and ungodly green eyes and a wide smile. Passion and adventure and want burned behind his eyes but it was wrong, scarily feral, scarily.. animal. 

At a closer look, he was far too old as well. A decade older than Roman, at least. Age weighed on his face in the form of crows feet and a thick mustache, the same color as his hair. It was as dark as Romans, to be sure, but colder - without the red tinting it warm.

Was this.. some fucked up joke? Was this a near death hallucination? Or maybe, maybe this was the first form of torture planned for him, a reminder of why he was here. Either way, the sight made it hard to breath.

The fae spoke first, “I’m Remus, your local fae prince.” With the word Remus sickness and the cold scent of pinewood rushed through Virgil so hard he leered. The prince of the fae, the actual fucking fae, just gave him his name. Freely, just as that.

Virgil realized what it was a second later - a show of power. A quiet, but impactful way to remind Virgil that no matter what information he had, no matter how hard he fought, he was powerless here. It made his heart sink.

“Thank you,” Virgil whispered and in the same breath he cringed from his own words. Right, no thanking them. How had he forgotten? “I’m here to offer myself to you, on one condition.” It felt incomprehensibly stupid to speak of conditions when he was on his knees.

“I love conditions!” The too-shrill voice practically squawked out, leaning one elbow on Virgil’s cane nonchalantly. “What do you want, little stormcloud?” He grinned down at Virgil, clearly awaiting his response with delight.

“.. I have a friend,” Virgil carefully avoided his name, “he is gravely injured and, though stable, will not survive winter like this. I have another friend - he is trying to make a remedy. Theres one last ingredient he needs, a flower - oleander.”

Remus gave him a look, a single eyebrow raised at him. “Stormy - can I call you stormy? - Cool, thanks. Oleanders a poison, at least to you little.. flesh beasts. I don’t think your thinking of the right flower. It’d be cool to poison him and all, but y'know - doublechecking.”

Virgil thought over the words for a second, because he knew it couldn’t be a lie - even though that was exactly what his knee-jerk reaction wanted to say. After a second, he forced, “no offense, but I trust his medical knowledge more than yours.”

“Well, if you insist,” Remus shrugged then grinned, “still, that’s all you ask for your life!? Most ask for more than that. Money, power, fame, love - and lust~, of course,” the creature wiggled his eyebrows and Virgil bit back the urge to gag. “You can ask for more, you know. A lifes worth more than a flower.”

Virgil looked up, mildly stunned by what he heard. Was Remus.. trying to help him? The thought sent a feeling of vertigo through him, but he hesitantly spoke, hand picking each word that slipped out of his mouth, “there won’t be any extra.. stipulations because of this, will there?”

“Nah! I’m just bored, you see, and I love doing those little tasks for you mortals. They always go through the same cycles. First their filled with delight and shock at their new gifts, then grief and disgust as they ask why their daughter, or lover, or brother has went.” Remus turned his head back and practically cackled through out.

“.. Alright,” Virgil knew the fae couldn’t lie, and he couldn’t find much of a loophole in the words, no matter how.. depressing. “Some money to be comfortable for the following years, good fertile land to plant on, and a hunters blessing. For my family, please.” Virgil stared down for a reason he himself didn’t quiet understand.

Remus looked down at him with a strange expression. It took Virgil a moment to process it as curiosity, but before he could comprehend that, the fae spoke. “Man, you’re weirdly humble. Don’t even want any good shit! Or just, well, shit. Do you know how many farmers have asked for good manure?” He turned his head back and laughed, before looking back down, “well, they don’t usually offer their life for it.”

Virgil turned his gaze to the side. The words weirdly burnt at his chest. It was the reminder, he realized. He wanted to go home so fucking bad. The rough dirt made his knees ache and his hands blistered against the wood he held so tight and he wanted nothing more than to step out of the mushrooms, come home, and hug his family so close he didn’t have words for it.

“Will you stop mocking me?” Virgil hissed through his teeth, fear burning in his heart at every word that slipped out of his mouth without his permission, “I just want to get sacrificied in fucking peace before I spend the rest of eternity dancing as my skin burns off and muscles rot away, and- and-” suddenly, it was hard to breath. His lungs felt tiny and air was too large to choke down.

The fae thing gave him a strange look from where he hovered over Virgil, watching him have a panic attack like he was a mildly interesting rock. After a weird long moment of that, he spoke with delight, “wow are you killing yourself by self-suffocation!? That’s so cool!” 

That startled a laugh out of Virgil’s chest, then a few awkward coughs as his body readjusted to breathing again. He stared up at Remus awkwardly. “Nobody’s had a panic attack while sacrificing themselves to you before me?” He choked out.

Remus propped his hands up on his hips. “Not until you, stormy! You’re the first,” he said without a single sense of the weight of the words. For a fae, creature known for their odd but strict manners, he was wildly impolite.

Virgil couldn’t help but cringe with it, then awkwardly bark out a few laughs. “I can’t even kill myself right, can I?” He didn’t realize what he was saying until the words came out of his mouth, and then he closed said mouth tight.

The fae was giving him another one of those peculiar looks again before continuing to speak. “Man, is this meant to be your suicide? You’re like, really bad at that then because I have no plans to kill you!” The grin was strangely warm, now.

“Look, I- I’m gonna be basically dead by the end of this anyway. No old life to get back to,” he sighed quietly, before asking, like a slight plea, “can we get this over with, now? I don’t wanna spend longer here.”

The smile dripped off Remus’s face and Virgil felt oddly guilty. “Well, if you’re so impatient, then lets get this over with, stormcloud. You know what to do to stop it. Just give me your name.” The weight of the phrase was more than ever.

Suddenly, hearing the words - Virgil realized how badly he didn’t want to get it over with. Like a desperate idiot avoiding the death he handed himself, he stalled. “What, you don’t want this to end? You having fun chit-chatting here?” He said easy as you please, tilting his head to the side. The false confidence was familiar.

That startled a laugh out of Remus, who cackled so loud and shrill that Virgil could hear the birds flee. “Wow, seems like our little stormy has himself a sharp tongue. Wonder how long that will last you.”

“Long as it takes for you to get tired of me and cut it off,” Virgil hissed through his teeth, a sly grin on his face. It felt as natural as breathing, and just as fulfilling as it. Something that he knew from memory.

He realized the memory was of Roman.

Remus didn’t notice his realization of course and continued without a single hitch, “I wonder if it will be like a lizard tail, still wriggling and writhing after I cut it out of your wordy little mouth! I mean, I’m sure I can make that happen.”

Virgil faked a gag and turned his gaze up to Remus again, “you’re real disgusting y’know, for being a fae, a creature of manners and politeness, you’re real gross. How do you even get away with your wordy little mouth?” Virgil asked, half teasing and half genuine.

“Well, manners are oh so subjective,” Remus grinned, seemingly preening with delight at this fact, “and so, with just a little bit of squirming around through loopholes and the like - you really can get away with most things.” His satisfied grin seemed to light up the clearing.

Or maybe that was the sunrise, peaking over the horizon like an unwelcome guest. Remus turned his head back to stare at it. “Oops! Looks like your time is up, my dearest storm. No more stalling~.” He turned back to Virgil. “May I have your name?”

The words carried the weight of ten thousand stones.

Virgil knew what to do though, and he spoke his name, tearing it out of his throat and soul as the sun rose along with bile in his throat and as the moon fell along with his bloody heart. He whispered the first two words that would be in his obituary, “Virgilius Sentinel.”

A coldness wrapped around him, tight and binding. It was like a promise; a cruel, sickening promise, the type that edged on threat. His body shook, lungs wheezing through breaths that couldn’t make it all the way into him. 

Even though he could still see Remus above him, staring down at him with that cruel grin and hands on his hips, he could feel his hands on his face, holding him still. They were as cold as he imagined, but not as painful.

Despite the terror, breaths slowly became easier as his body became more used to the feeling, the control, the vulnerability of it all. He adjusted to it, the world spinning around him as he learned to breath with smaller lungs. Maybe, this wouldn’t be as painful as he worried.

Right as he adjusted, though, there was a sudden burning in his chest and around his lungs. It was the kindest fire and the sweetest pain, and his lungs were aching as if he had managed to breath too much. It felt familiar; it felt like being held by warm and gentle hands. The fire chased off the cold.

As suddenly as the flame overtook him, it drew back. The feeling of being held turned to the feeling of being dropped, and the cold leapt back in as soon as the warmth left him. He shook just a little with the nauseating feelings. No matter the attempt at a fight, it was too weak.

Still, it left a small thought: something else had its own claim on him, separate from Remus’s. He silently reeled from that, but before he could think too hard he heard that barking shrilling laugh again and the world fell from under his feet.

#sanders sides #tss #ts sides #sasi #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remus #ts logan #ts patton #tss fanfic

[glacierruler]

Through Hades and Back

Chapter 1: Tamales

AO3 link

Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @nebulous-astronaut (please tell me if you'd like to be added/removed)

Words: 899

Masterpost | Next Chapter

CWs: death mentions, fighting mentions

Virgil sighed before looking at the time, and scrambling to get up. It was almost dinner time and his little sister was cooking tonight, and she was making tamales, the ones with the olives in them, they were always delicious. It took him a few minutes to reach the kitchen, as the house he lived in with his dad and sister was pretty big, since his other father constantly gave them handfuls of gold. Gold ingots to be precise. It really was a wonder how the IRS and the government just let it pass, since none of them had a constant stream of income, since they didn’t need to. It was quite nice really, being able to follow his dreams without having to worry about whether or not he would make rent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, his dad gave him a playful stare, “hijo! There you are, thought you were about to miss your sister’s tamales!”

“As if I’d miss tamale day! You were just hoping I’d be late, so you could steal mine and not feel bad about it.”

Virgil’s dad raised his hands, “you got me,” he started, “but thankfully you did get here in time, so I guess you can have some tamales.”

Rolling his eyes at that, Virgil went to sit down, waiting for Luciana to bring the tamales out. However, a few seconds later, someone rang the front doorbell, and considering his dad’s confused expression, it wasn’t his father or either of his mothers; they scheduled the days in which they would come by, to make things easier on all of them. Watching as his dad walked to the door, Virgil strained his ears to hear what was going on, without having to get up. Thankfully, that’s when Luciana came in with the tamales.

“Hey, psst, use your powers to listen into what’s going on at the door!” His sister rolled her eyes, before she went to the potted plant, and connected to it. Virgil using his magic to connect her to the plants near the front door as well, a trick that had taken them both a few years to perfect. It did help that Hecate, Virgil’s biological mom, taught him how to use magic and Persephone, Luciana’s bio mother, taught her how to connect to plants.

While this did allow Luci to overhear the conversations without either of them having to move, Virgil would have to rely on her to relay the information to him. And sometimes, usually if it was a surprise or prank, she lied, however he knew that if it was anything important, she’d tell him like she always did. So when Luci stopped listening and looked terrified, Virgil knew something was up.

“There’s people here, we’re not related to them, but they’re similar to us. And they’re looking for us. Or one of us. I don’t know who, and I don’t know why. They won’t tell dad even though he keeps asking, and I don’t trust them.”

“Alright,” Virgil sighed, ignoring the way he clenched his fist, “the first thing we need to do is figure out why they’re here. So let’s go introduce ourselves—”

“The way we practiced,” his sister finished, nodding resolutely. Both of them grimaced, as the only thing they wanted was to have a nice dinner and an uneventful day. Both of them could only hope that this didn’t evolve into a fight.

***

Slowly, and discreetly entering the living room, Virgil twisted the mist that surrounded them to make the shadows look darker. Not enough to be noticeable, just enough to hide both himself and Luci, just enough to make it so they weren’t noticed until they were both on either side of the group of people. The rather large group of people, the large group that looked to contain seven people, all just standing in the doorway, each of them interrupting each other.

“NO we can’t tell him—”

“What if he doesn’t—”

“What if he doesn’t what? What can’t you tell him?” Luciana interrupted, while Virgil peeled the mist around her back, revealing his little sister to whoever was asking for them.

“Ah, is it okay if we talk to you alone fair…”

“I’m a lady, if that’s what you’re asking. And nope. See, I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you. If you want to talk to me, my brother will have to be there.”

“Who?”

“Me,” Virgil stated, moving the mist so that they now noticed him. Feeling gleeful as all of them seemed to jump in shock.

“Do both of you just like scaring people half to death?” Virgil properly looked to the one who spoke, the clothing they wore seemed prettier on them. As if enchanted by something. If anything it was probably one of the other gods that had enchanted them, meaning they were one of Olympus’s spawn.

“No, usually whoever we’re dealing with are fully dead by the end of it. We’re just feeling graceful today. Now who are you, why are you here, and what do you want with my sister?”

“Look,” the fanciful looking person started, clearly annoyed and put off by Virgil’s statement, “I guess it’s both of you we want to talk to. It’s about… something important!”

“And what’s this important thing?” Luciana spoke up, looking at all of them curiously, “is it more important than my tamales getting cold?”

#sanders sides #tss fanfic #sasi #sasi fanfic #ts virgil #ts roman #virgil sanders #roman sanders #tss virgil #tss roman #(tagging roman because he was who was described)

[dillydallydove]

Here's my new fic for the @tss-storytime Sanders Sides Big Bang! Its a Logan-centric fantasy story. I partnered with the artist @thecrowslullaby who made some awesome art for it!

#logan sanders #sanders sides #tss fanfic #ltbb #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders

[kopfkino-o]

The Seer’s Stone - Chapter 3 (Azriel POV) 

Summary: Azriel is being pushed to his limits, driven half-mad by his increased workload, Koschei’s recent movements, and the unaddressed feelings still hanging between him and Elain. His mind is at war with himself, thoughts and regrets constantly battling with him, but when an old acquaintance comes calling he feels compelled to answer, bound by loyalty and duty he sets off to find what very well might be his own damnation.

Pairing: Elain x Azriel 

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Wordcount: 4501

Taglist:   @downingg2001   @gracie-rosee   @nivem565 ​ // Let me know if you want on (or off) the tag list for future updates! Thank you all for reading <3

Read:

Chapter One | The Crone’s Trade

Chapter Two | The Oracle of Seraphyros 

Author’s Note: This chapter was SO much fun to write. I love creating/exploring fantasy religions and adore associated iconography. It’s such a vibe. Also loved getting to play around with some hints as to who the Continent’s “strange gods and goddesses” might be. Azriel is also such an interesting character to me. Hard to write, but interesting. I feel bad for him. I really do. Is that going to stop me from putting him through so much more? No. Do I feel bad about it? Also no. It’s for the angst, babes.  

Thanks for reading! 

- Court 

The Temple of the Everlasting loomed like a pale specter on its high hill.

Light from the half-moon leered off its jewel-toned windows and haloed its clawing towers in a pale light that gave them the look of skeletal fingers. Shadows crept along its sweeping buttresses, the jagged spires and high arches reminiscent of the spine of a still-slumbering beast. In this light, at this hour, the hall of the Continent’s foreign gods and goddesses looked more like the keep of a wicked king than a holy place of worship.

Or the house of a cruel lord and his hateful wife.

Azriel chased away the memory with the whetstone he drew down Truth-Teller’s blade. He prayed to the Cauldron he would not need the knife tonight, but he liked to keep it sharp just in case, liked the way honing it lulled his mind into silence.

It was a rare thing, that silence.

Most nights, his mind swarmed with thoughts of duty, of his spies scattered across the courts and continents, of every mistake and misstep he'd ever made. His failures as Spymaster, as a brother, as a son. Some nights it felt like there were too many to count, too many to bear.

A shadow curled around his neck, the wisp of mist and smoke gently stroking his cheek. 

You must be kinder to yourself, it seemed to whisper.

"Easier said than done," Azirel replied aloud.

He drew his whetstone down Truth-Teller again, the movement sending his shadows skittering up his arms. There wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t find himself admiring the weapon. It was magnificent. More than magnificent, really. 

Tonight, the delicately carved pommel felt warm in his hands and the dagger’s black blade devoured the moonlight overhead, just as it had when he found it deep in the mountain cave all those years ago.

A bell began to peal somewhere in the near distance, the silvery sound announcing the midnight hour. Azriel straightened at its call, shadows swarming to attention.

She was late.

Azriel raked a frustrated hand down his face.

She was never late.

"Search the streets," He commanded his shadows. "Search every tavern and winesink."

They scattered at once, flowing across the rooftop and down the stone walls of the timbered building and into the city streets to do his bidding. Azriel waited in baited silence as they searched, that silence in his mind slowly replaced by their murmurings carried to him along the wind.

Nowhere, nowhere, they seemed to sing.

Azriel muttered a low curse. The only thing harder than finding another shadowsinger in the world was tracking one.

Especially her, the wretch.

He wouldn't call her a friend, but he wouldn't call her a stranger, either.  They'd met centuries ago, back when he still served Rhysand's father, and she still did the bidding of some corrupt Merchant Queen, but despite the years of working together, they were never truly friends. She was too unpredictable, too volatile, too much of a risk to trust completely.

But there was only him and her, the only two of their kind, and she was the only other person who truly understood the burden of their gift, the weight of the knowledge that came with it.

So he was here, thousands of miles away from Velaris, perched on a rooftop in the dead of night, watching the streets of a city he did not know, waiting for her to arrive.

A shadow slithered across the roof and snaked up Azriel's arm to whisper in his ear.

In the temple, it whispered, she prays before the Mother's pillar.  

Azriel's eyes narrowed. How had they missed her? He'd been camped out on the rooftop across from the temple nearly all night, watching for any sight of her. Half of his shadows had even remained in the Shade, waiting for her to cross that dark pocket between realms, waiting to catch any whisper of her moving through the worlds.

But she'd slipped past them all, unseen and undetected.

He wasn’t sure what unnerved him more: the fact she’d evaded him, or the fact she’d sent for him at all.

Azriel shoved Truth-Teller back into its black sheath and stood, shadows swarming his shoulders like a dark cloak. He didn't like the choice of venue, didn't like how many listening ears and wandering eyes there'd be inside the temple complex. Priestesses and acolytes, novices and servants, the last of the devout kneeling for the evening prayer, far too many presences milling about for a meeting like this.

It was one of her games, no doubt.

Azirel let the shadows rise up and devour him, let his magic scatter him along the wind until he dwelled both everywhere and nowhere, existing in every pocket of darkness and every sliver of shade. He flowed through the streets, past unsuspecting guards draped in golden brocade and civilians returning home for the evening and hard-faced storekeepers closing up shop, unseen and unscented. Even the large cat basking in the moonlight on the Temple’s grand staircase was completely unaware of his presence, the creature not even blinking an eye as Azriel drifted by on his way up to holy house’s great golden doors.

Inside, the air was warm and thick with the heady scent of burning incense, a mix of rich sandalwood and myrrh that filled his lungs with each breath. A thousand candles writhed in the iron chandeliers suspended from the vaulted ceiling, sucking all darkness from the place and forcing Azriel to rearrange his form into something corporeal once more.

All the light, the countless burning candles, the torches blazing in their gilded sconces, it was intentional of course. It meant there be nowhere for him to hide. But that also meant she couldn't hide, either.

Another strategic move in their little game.

The inner sanctuary's doors loomed at the edge of the vast antechamber, intricately carved from the dark wood of an ironwood tree and brushed with golden paint that shimmered in the candlelight. Two priestesses robed and cowled in midnight blue stood on either side, their faces concealed behind the heavy folds of their hoods. Azriel strode towards them, his boots soundless on the marble floor. Both women inclined their heads as he passed, but offered no word of greeting, the servants of this land's strange gods bound to eternal silence.

The room beyond was a long rectangular chamber, the high walls and vaulted ceilings carved from the same pale granite as the rest of the building. Statues of the local gods and goddesses lined the center isle, each crowned with circlets of white candles that twinkled atop their stone heads. Azriel only recognized a handful of them. The Moon Mother with her veiled face, the Pale Huntress with the wyvern curled at her feet, the Horned Mistress and the Lord of Dreaded Things, the Flamebringer and her gilded sword, the faces of gods and goddesses who never deigned to hear his prayers.

Azriel stalked past them all, past the rows of ornately carved pews and stone benches erected for the devout to sit atop and pray or ponder or beg for mercy that would not come. He made for the massive black obelisk-—the imposing block of stone meant to, somehow, resemble the Mother, the pillar of all things and deities even here on the Continent—that dominated the far end of the chamber.

And the woman dressed all in white praying before it.

She was kneeling on the polished marble floor, her head angled in prayer and her face shielded by a curtain of raven-black hair that spilled down her slender frame like waves of ink. Shadows swarmed her slightly sloped shoulders, murmuring and whispering in a way that was so similar to his own.

Though he knew those shadows would have alerted her to his arrival the moment he slipped through the temple doors, the other shadowsinger did not turn at the sound of his approach. She didn’t even lift her head when Azriel knelt beside her, the cold stone biting against his knees even through his fighting leathers.

"You're late," He said, voice low.

Cherith Ithyer finished her prayer before finally turning pale purple eyes to meet his gaze. Raven feathers were woven into her hair and hung from her arched ears on silver chains, their oily black the same color as her hair, as her shadows.

"I am never late," The other shadowsinger said, her voice soft and melodic. "You are simply early."

"I'm not interested in playing games tonight, Cherith."

"Then I suppose it’s a good thing I have no desire to play games with you, Azriel."

He loathed the mocking way she said his name.

"Out with it, then."

Cherith cocked her head, lilac eyes assessing him disapprovingly. "You don't even wish to offer a prayer up to our merciful Mother? It’s to her for which we owe all things.”

Azriel nearly told her the Mother had never shown him any mercy but then thought better of it. Exposing such thoughts would do him little benefit, especially with the likes of her. The less they knew about one another, the better. It was how their relationship had always been, besides. Supportive, but only from an arm's length and only because of what they were.

The last of their kind.

"I don't have all night," Azriel said instead. His eyes dropped to the silver torc encircling her neck, the new trinket a formal sign of her servitude. "And by the looks of it, neither do you."

A sly smile.

"My latest employer cares very little about what I do outside of my work," Cherith replied. "Can you say the same about yours?"

A bolt of cold anger charged through him at the implication. Employer. Rhysand's father had been his employer, but never Rhys. No, his brother was different. He did not force him to kill and torture and maim, to take and steal and corrupt the way his father had. His brother treated him as an equal, let him dictate his role as Spymaster as he best saw fit. Rhys always gave him a choice...  

Azriel shoved the thought away.

"What do you want, Cherith?"

A beat of silence. Her lilac eyes studied him with a frankness most people never dared to look at him with. Azriel returned the favor with a look most people shied from.

"I need your help," Cherith said finally, her voice low but steady. "It's not exactly a small favor, nor is it something I'd never dare ask of you under normal conditions, but I'm... I am desperate."

Interesting. It was unlike her to ever admit such a thing. Cherith was many things, but desperate was not one of them.

Azriel moved to speak, but then a shadow curled around his ear and murmured of the approach of two figures. A similar shadow twinned around Cherith's shoulders. They both inclined their heads, feigning prayer as two priestesses swinging silver censers approached the altar, both humming low songs of prayer beneath their heavy hoods.

Three laps around the Mother's altar and the priestesses finally took their leave, leaving the shadowsingers alone once more.

"You know I would not ask if it wasn't urgent," Cherith continued.

Azriel fixed her with a cool look. "You know that's not how this works."

"Using my own rules against me, I see. No service for free, no kernel of knowledge without a price. Fair, I suppose." A soft chuckle. "It's a good thing I've got something of interest to you and your High Lord, then."

Azriel raised an eyebrow, silently encouraging her to continue.

"You have a serpent within your court," Cherith said, her hands idly toying with her black prayer beads. "A spy, planted by one of your High Lord's enemies. They operate right beneath all of your noses, seen but entirely unnoticed. Even by you and those half-wraiths."

Fuck.

Azriel was well aware there was a spy within the Night Court, knew there was a double agent murmuring valuable secrets and information to their enemies, but the fact Cherith knew too... It wasn't good. If she was privy to such knowledge all the way here on the Continent, then others back on Prythian certainly knew too.

Fuck.

It made them look weak. It made him look weak. Incompetent, at best. Rhys wouldn't like this, wouldn't be pleased with how this unfolded. The fact Azriel had yet to put a stop to it wouldn't soften the blow either. It was the last thing they needed, now that Nyx was here and Feyre was still recovering and Beron was preparing to make his move.

Now that things were still so strained between him and his brother.

Another failure, another misstep. 

Azriel steeled himself against the swarming thoughts. Let the ice in his veins freeze the growing panic and shame threatening to swallow him whole. 

"I need names. I need proof. Your word alone doesn't mean much." He said.

Cherith clicked her tongue, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her red-painted lips, lilac eyes glimmering in triumph. "You know that's not how this works."

Azriel gritted his teeth. He was naïve for thinking this would be easy. Nothing with Cherith Ithyer ever was.

"Tell me of this 'favor' then. Make it quick if you know what’s good for you.”

Cherith's smile widened, a glint of mischief in her eye. "So impatient, so unfriendly. But I suppose I should expect nothing less from the Spymaster of the Night Court." She paused, fingers still toying with the prayer beads. "I need you to help me steal something."

She had to be fucking joking. 

Azriel didn't let his irritation show, though his thoughts and shadows were both swarming. Robbery was a job for underlings, not a godsdamn shadowsinger. The request violated nearly every rule they had in place for the delicate partnership, besides.

"What, Cauldron spare me, could possibly be valuable enough for you to think it okay to drag me into this?"

"Not something, dear Azriel, but someone." Cherith's smile faltered, and for half a heartbeat her usual mask of cold amusement slipped, revealing a hint of something deeper, something that almost looked like pain. "Someone who is counting on me. Someone who means—" She shook her head, dismissing the thought. "Someone I just have to get back. And if you want the intel on your court's serpent, then you're going to help me do it.”

Her.

The other shadowsinger spoke the word with such tenderness, such emotion, not even the iron hard mask she hide behind could conceal it. This piqued Azriel's interest despite his reservations. It was a kernel of truth, a hidden piece of knowledge he hadn't been aware of until tonight. Cherith had someone, someone she valued enough to risk meeting with him, risked exchanging information for. He tucked the kernel of knowledge away. It could be used against her later, if it ever came to that.

Azriel found his mind wandering then, wandering to a townhouse a thousand miles away and the freshly planted rosebushes blooming within it, to brown eyes that sparked with light and laughter in even the darkest of rooms. To a quiet hallway in the very dead of night, his scarred fingers brushing over the gentle curve of her shoulder.

This was a mistake.

He quickly shook off the thought. Dwelling on the memory did him little good.

"I need the details. The who, the where, the why. Information is power, you know this just as well as I do," Azriel said, his mind already beginning to calculate the risks. "I won't go into a mission like this blind. Not even for you."

Cherith let out a long sigh and idly toyed with the raven feather woven into her hair. "I'd never expect you to, despite what you might think of me."

"I don't think anything of you."

"Ah, coldhearted as always, it should be no surprise." Cherith wound her prayer beads around her hand and raised a clenched fist to her heart, eyes fluttering closed. "She's here on the Continent, tucked away in the heart of a heavily guarded tower. One month from now I will strike, one month from now I will set her free. You help me, then all my knowledge on the Night Court's spy will be yours. Not before, not until she is safe in my arms."

"I'll need a plan. I'll need to know the tower layout, need to know the number of guards, their patrol routes, the magic they're armed with, any weaknesses I can exploit. And I'll need to know more about your... friend. Why she's there, why she's held captive, all of it."

"In time. I need to finish my own reconnaissance first." Cherith stroked a finger down the raven feather in her hair again, eyes turning back to the Mother's altar. "Help me free her, and I swear the information is yours. Whatever you want to know, I'll tell you. But I can't do this alone, Azriel. I need you."

Cauldron spare him, he was a fucking idiot. For coming here, for getting involved with her in the first place, but he needed to know what she knew. There was a spy in the Night Court and, Azriel was determined to cut them out, root and stem. 

Serving his court, protecting those he loved, it was his sole purpose. It was his duty, his freedom. It was all he could offer.

"Fine." Azriel finally, the word barely even a whisper. "But I want half the information before we infiltrate the tower, as a show of goodwill."

"A fair enough request. Half the information before we make our move, the rest after she is safe." Cherith gently folded her prayer beads into the wide sleeve of her snow-white gown, giving him a small nod of agreement. "We'll meet again in one month's time. My shadows will tell you where and when."

"Fine."

A strange look settled on Cherith's face. "Fine."

Then, without so much as another word, she winnowed away.

He could have gone back to the House of Wind. Or back to his room at the Riverhouse. 

But Azriel didn't. 

Neither was his home, not anymore, not truly. He was but a guest now and Azriel feared nothing more than overstaying his welcome, than becoming a burden to Nesta and Cassian, to Feyre and Rhys, and the families they all were building.

So instead, he wandered through the darkness of the Shade, milling over Cherith’s request and his own foolish decision to help her. Wandered until the smell of roses and fresh mountain air filled that space between worlds. He followed those familiar senses, warping through time and space, until he stepped out of a shadow and onto the sprawling lawn of Rosehall.

The modest manor home looked particularly idyllic beneath the moonlight, its stonewalls covered in flowering vines and its stained glass windows warm with firelight. Even the Illyrian mountains in the far distance looked beautiful here, the harshness of their bald peaks somehow softened by all the life that grew within the manor's gardens and the thick, lush forest that bordered its lands. It was beautiful, peaceful, everything he had ever dreamed of as a boy.

And yet, there was something about this home that felt... lonely.

Azriel knew he wasn't the only one who felt it. That loneliness lingered in every empty bedroom, in every unlit hearth, in the halls occupied by only he and his mother and the two others who called the manor home. It ached to be filled with light and laughter and love, ached to hold the same sense of comfort that filled the House of Wind and the Riverhouse.

He had his mother, yes, but even she was distant at times, lost in her memories and nightmares and the strange dreams that plagued her both awake and asleep. Azriel's mind wandered back to Cherith and the woman she was so desperate to get back. The other shadowsinger's desperation had been a mirror to his own that night in Hybern's war camp. 

The memory of that evening had his thoughts wandering to the hallway of a faraway townhome and words he wished he could take back.

This was a mistake.

Azriel let the words echo through him as he walked the gardens, the soft grass cushioning his footfall and the familiar scent of his mother's rosebushes and lilies and night-blooming orchids perfuming the night. Let the bitter cold settle into his bones until it matched the own frigid ache in his veins, in his soul.

A part of him was content to stay out there all night until the unforgiving cold of the Illyrian mountains took him, but then he caught a glimpse of movement on the manor's grand terrace. A woman's shape moving slowly through the night, dark hair catching in the moonlight. He could not do that to her.

His shadows swarmed him all the way to Rosehall's front doors.

Sleep, they whispered.

Eat, they begged.

Azriel ignored them all, the petulant little things.

The manor's doors were all warded, but the magic shivered away beneath his touch as he pushed the front door open, warm golden light washing over the cracked marble stones and gilding the cheery entryway beyond. His shadows left him there, some darting into the darkness of the half-slumbering hall, others simply fading away until he had need of them.

Azriel stepped into the warmth of the manor, closing the door behind him with a click. He kicked his shoes off and hung his cloak on a wooden peg driven into the wall, breathing in the familiar scent of rose and cedar and blackberry.

A fresh floral arrangement occupied the large circular table in the center of the room, and Azriel paused a moment to appreciate the fact his mother was feeling well enough to tend to such small details at all.

It was a good sign, he supposed.

Heavy footfall echoed down the hall, the ancient hardwoods creaking underneath. Azriel turned just in time to see Galen appear in the doorway, the groundskeeper tall and lean with a weathered face that was marked with a port wine stain that resembled the likeness of a wolf bearing its teeth.

"I didn't cook enough for company," Galen said gruffly, the only real greeting the hardened old warrior would ever give. "Might have made extras if you deigned to give me more than a few minute's notice."

Azriel let out a quiet chuckle. He had to appreciate the old male's bluntness.

"I've already eaten," He said, the lie smooth and cold. "All that matters is that you made enough for her."

Her. That word hung between them. His mother and Galen's... well, Azriel still wasn't entirely sure what the groundskeeper and longtime family friend was to his mother. There was certainly something burning between the two of them, but he had never been one to pry, and it wasn't his business besides.

Galen grunted in response, his eyes flicking briefly to the hallway at his back. "She's doing better today," the old male said finally, his voice softening slightly. "Said she wanted to walk the grounds tomorrow if the weather holds."

"I'm sure the fresh air will do her good."

"Aye, I thought so too." Galen's eyes narrowed, his gaze assessing him with a sharpness only a hardened warrior could manage. "You sure you're sleeping, boy?"

Azriel ignored the question.

"Where is she?"

"On the terrace. She's enjoying a cup of tea before bed."

Azriel stalked past before Galen could pester him anymore, too tired to deal with the big man's constant fussing and over-concern. Too tired to explain himself, despite knowing he didn't need to.

He made his way through the manor out to the sprawling terrace overlooking the gardens, the cool night air and his mother's familiar scent hitting him as he pushed open the double doors. The stars were bright and innumerable tonight, a blanket of fractured crystals scattered across the midnight sky.

Seraphiel was seated in her favorite wicker chair, a thick cobalt blanket pulled up over her slender frame and a delicate teacup clenched in her pale hands. She looked over a shoulder at the sound of his approach and Azriel's heart wrenched at the sight of her heavily scared cheeks, her once bright eyes now white and milky, blinded by his father all those years ago.

"Hello, sweet boy," She said, voice soft and gentle, her face breaking into a warm smile. "I was hoping you'd come to see me before bed."

Azriel crouched down beside her chair and took one of her fragile hands in his own. He could feel the faint tremble in her fingers, the shaking an equal reminder of the suffering she faced, and the ache in his heart tightened further.

"How are you doing, Mother?" He asked gently.

Seraphiel laughed, the sound undiluted by her obvious pain. "Oh, you know me, my dear. There are good days and there are bad days. But tonight, I am at peace. You're here with me and Gelan prepared my favorite stew for tonight's dinner. We are to go walking in the gardens tomorrow, you know."

"I know, Mother. Would you like for me to join you?"

"Oh, that would be lovely my dear. It's been too long since we had a proper walk together and I've been told the gardens look especially beautiful this year. A shame Rhysand and his babe can't join us, I've been desperately waiting to meet the sweet little thing."

"I know, Mother."

A wrinkle furrowed in Seraphiel's brow.

"Something has happened between you two. I can hear it in your voice."

The words struck him like a physical blow. Azriel had to pause a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He didn't want to trouble her further, didn't want to admit there was a tension between him and Rhys that had not been there before.

"He's busy with the new babe, that's all," He said finally. "He and Feyre will visit when they can."

"Good, very good." Seraphiel took a sip from her tea. "And Elain?"

Azriel’s heart all but stopped at the mention of her name.

"She's doing well," He said, fighting to keep his voice even. "Her gardens put even yours to shame. They're quite the sight to behold."

"I look forward to the day I get to meet her. She still needs to know of the red star."

Azriel's brow furrowed, unsure of what his mother meant.

"The red star?"

Seraphiel leaned back in her chair, eyes fluttering close as she tilted her face to the midnight sky, the expression on her face contemplative. "Yes, the red star. She was but a herald, but a messenger for what's to come. Elain needs to know."

Then his mother squeezed his hand tight enough to hurt.

"She needs to know that I Saw it in a dream."

#The Seer's Stone #The Seer's Stone fanfic #TSS fanfic #azriel x elain #elriel fanfiction #elain fanfiction #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #elriel #elriel month

[pencilpat]

Breaking Things - Analogical

This sat in my drafts for a bit, because it makes me emotional. This is simply a hurt/comfort expression of thoughts about Virgil giving comfort to Logan's ongoing struggles with his and Thomas's emotions. I see analogical as queerplatonic, but romantic interpretation is ok with me!

◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂◂

A crash resounds from the hallway, so loud that Virgil curls in on himself with a gasp and Roman lets out a slight scream. They blink and look at each other, fingers paused on the controls of a video game.

"What was that?" Virgil groans.

"I don't know, probably just Remus- Jump back to game world, Gloomba." Roman nudges his arm with his elbow and jerks his head towards their stalled game. Virgil rolls his eyes, and he's about to retort, when a bang sounds from the same area. Virgil flinches again. A swelling pit seeps through his gut, suddenly, the mindspace seeming to darken around them.

"Wait," he says, standing, dropping his controller and moving away like a man possessed, "Something is actually wrong." His voice wavers, slightly too deep, slightly too echoey, as he senses the panic among them.

Roman groans at him and pauses the game, tempted to unpause and kill Virgil's character for fun as he watches him disappear down the hall that contains their bedrooms. Virgil ghosts down the hall as quietly as he can, dragging his hand along the wall, listening for sounds that would explain the distress he senses. Another smaller crash pipes up from the door with a silver 'L' engraved on it. Target acquired, Virgil walks towards Logan's door with worry creasing his brow.

He knocks, gentle just in case. "Logan?" he calls it just loud enough to be heard, knowing how noise can aggravate Logan when he's already upset. "Can you come to the door?"

There's silence, at first. Then he hears hesitant footsteps walk to the door. It doesn't open. "Do you need something, Virgil?" Logan's voice makes Virgil cringe, that crisp monotone that he uses when concealing, masking, himself.

"Uh, yeah. I sense your distress, y'know. It's kind of my job. I thought all of you knew that by now," he mutters the last part, scratching and tugging at the beanie he wears over his hair. He can practically hear Logan breathe in, his irritation loud as always.

"I'm fine."

"Then open the door," Virgil spits out so fast he barely thinks about it, blinking at his own boldness. Logan stills again behind the door. Virgil hears him sigh, and the door creaks open, just a crack, enough that Logan's face is in his view. And wow, does he look like shit. "Wow, you look like shit."

Logan glares at him through exhausted, reddened eyes - from crying or tiredness, Virgil can't tell - and glasses just barely askew. He wears no necktie, unlike his usual attire, just a polo. "Astute observation. What do you need."

"I- I don't know, I'm checking on you! Can I come in? I mean, you usually let me come in?"

Logan's eyes flash, something seeming off about them, so suddenly there and then gone that Virgil misses it. "Virgil," he groans, the mask slipping as he runs a hand down his face, further disrupting his glasses. "I said I'm fine, is that not sufficient?"

"No, L, it's not." Virgil breathes in heavily, and then shoves into Logan quickly, pushing both of them into the room. Logan gives a small, angry cry, stumbling backwards.

"Virgil! That is a complete breach of privacy, what are you-"

"Logan- Woah, Logan, what happened in here?" Virgil's eyes are held wide as he takes in a thoroughly damaged version of the usually pristine room. Logan's entire desk has been overturned, and the objects on his shelves seem tossed at the wall in a fit. The shelves that hold all of Thomas's memories seem untouched, thankfully. There are several empty jars of Logan's favourite jam, enough to be eaten in weeks seemingly eaten in only a few hours. Virgil looks back to his friend, arms extended between them in question. Logan is staring hard at the floor, anger creasing his features. "What happened?"

Logan's eyes flit around, landing on anything but Virgil's face. Finding only the signs of his episode surrounding him, he breathes in sharply, and then deflates as his breath leaves him. Logan walks quietly to his bed, and sits on the edge, leaning over himself and covering his face with his hands. His knuckles are reddened as though he's been hitting something - or himself. Virgil trails behind him on instinct, settling beside him instantly. He touches his shoulder softly, massaging his fingers into the muscle of his arm, grounding, soothing. Logan's tenseness settles slightly, calmed by the familiarity of their times comforting each other. This level of upsetness isn't something Virgil has seen coming from Logan, specifically, and it leaves him white-faced and drawn.

"I think- I think something might be wrong with me." Logan's voice shakes, a light rattle of fear. He looks down at his own hands like they're not a part of his body.

"Seems like it, bud," Virgil sighs. "Did something uh- upset you? Or..?"

"Everything." Logan barks sharply, his mouth held thin. "I don't know. I can't- I can not tell what's causing this."

"Causing what, teach?" Virgil moves his arms around his friend's body, now massaging both of his shoulders as well as holding him. He presses the pads of his fingers into his skin firmly, coaxing him back from that spot five feet to the left of himself. Logan leans into him, his eyes closing tightly.

"Do you remember when I threw paper at Roman, a while back?"

Virgil snorts. "Sure do. Funny stuff."

"It wasn't." Logan's fist tenses against his leg, pressing down into himself. "I didn't feel like- like me. Like myself. Something wasn't right. I was... overcome."

Virgil stops massaging him, setting a hand on his cheek and drawing him to look at him. "L, I'm being so serious when I say to tell me exactly what you mean by that."

Logan withers slightly under direct eye contact, but he holds it due to the seriousness of Virgil's voice. "I don't know, Virgil." He feels slightly taken aback, not fully prepared to explain this emotion. "It has happened more than once, I know that. I feel very- very suddenly grasped by something. Like something is squeezing me." As he speaks his eyes squeeze closed again, flitting back and forth under their lids as though searching for the answer beneath them.

Virgil breathes. "Oh. Well, that could be a panic attack, Lo." He tries to conceal relief in his voice under concern. "Is it your chest, specifically?"

"Virgil," Logan suddenly grabs his hand, staring down at his unmade blankets and breathing heavily for a moment. He manages to meet his eyes, misery making them watery and strained. "I have had panic attacks before, all of us have, when Thomas has them. It isn't like that feeling. It's- it's hot. Like a burning." Logan's opposite hand ghosts over his own throat, clenching and unclenching. "I don't know what it means. I am still me. But it's also not me. Burningly not me."

Virgil flinches under his intensity, wide eyes seeming wider with the dark makeup below them. Logan's behaviour is scaring him. He tries to think if Thomas has experienced much dissociation before, but no incidents come to mind. He blinks dumbly as he comes up with nothing to help. Logan's eyes drift away as the silence stretches. All of him drifts, suddenly, to the side as he falls onto his pillows with a dull thud. Virgil crawls up on the bed beside him cautiously, laying next to him and beginning to massage his arm again gently, knocking their foreheads together.

"You are yourself. We're all ourself. Feeling big things doesn't make us not 'us'. Just us, yeah? Just Thomas."

"Just Thomas," Logan parrots under his breath, eyes closing above deep purple eyebags nearly rivalling Virgil's. Virgil lays beside him, not knowing what else to say but wanting to do anything he can. He soothes at Logan's tense muscles in the semi-strained silence around them, silently offering anything he can give. The pit in his gut suddenly unravels just as Logan's breathing evens out. The rhythm of the massage and his exhaustion from wrecking his room seemingly caused him to fall asleep unceremoniously. Virgil sighs through his nose, glancing over the messy room and his friend's face.

He scoots closer to him, removing Logan's glasses gently and settling in the space of his side, faintly resting his arm over his stomach, soft as not to disturb him. If he fell asleep that suddenly, he must need it, and Virgil wouldn't disturb his most stressed companion's rest for anything.

"We'll figure it out, bud," he whispers to him, promising reverently even though Logan can't hear. "We'll all... be okay. For now." He chuckles at his own dire pessimism, and lets himself rest as well in the crook of his friend's sturdy arm. The room looms darkly around them, but they are safe, curled against each other through the darkness, only ever themself. Only ever Thomas, and all the pieces that come with him.

#sanders sides #analogical #qpp analogical #platonic analogical #hurt/comfort #virgil sanders #logan sanders #tss logan #tss virgil #sanders sides fanfic #tss fanfic

[roseianxiety]

Fan Language

× Pairing: Roceit

× Canon Universe

× Tags: Fluff, Crack and Fluff, Crack Treated Seriously, Kissing, Slight Fourth Wall Breaking, Swearing

× Word Count: 1k+ words

× Notes: These are what the fan gestures Janus used mean:

Kiss Me - Press the half-closed fan over the lips

Talk to Me - Touch the lips with the tip of the closed fan

I Fancy You - Place the tip of the closed fan over the cheek

I Love You - Open the fan and place it over the heart

× AO3 link

× Summary: Janus tries to flirt and seduce Roman through the art of fan language. His mission fails successfully.

Janus has been throwing signs at Roman for the past few weeks on how he was utterly in love with the other side but the creative facet was too oblivious for his own good. And Janus was suffering because of it. Good lord, help him.

He let out an exasperated sigh as he fanned himself, the Florida heat getting to him and it made thinking way more difficult than it should have been. Janus pouts to himself, trying to formulate a plan to woo Roman and make him realize that the resident snake likes (more like love) him. He leaned back on the couch while he continued to fan himself... his eyes landing on the fan in his hands. Then the gears in his head began to turn, he was trying to figure something out. And an idea popped up! Janus smirked to himself at what he had thought of, thinking that this was the best idea he had created. Now time to execute his plan (and get himself some royal D).

---

Roman was in the kitchen preparing himself a nice, warm cup of tea to soothe his throat after belting out loud in his room as he practiced for an upcoming play Thomas would lead. He brings his mug to his lips and takes a small sip, the warm liquid is comforting before taking another sip. He hums in satisfaction, hopping onto one of the bar stools, and sipping at the delicious liquid again. He was so occupied by his tea and his own thoughts that he didn't notice a certain snake-like side enter the kitchen until the other coughed to get his attention.

He was snapped out of his thoughts and saw Janus glance at him before passing by, the resident snake heading towards the fridge. His and Janus's relationship was doing rather well, although it took them a long time to finally forgive each other. Their acquaintanceship was improving per se. But Roman does notice sometimes how weird Janus acts around him, making him wonder if it's a negative thing or a positive one. Hopefully the last one. Roman shrugs it off and continues to drink his tea while he now thinks of new ideas he can put into a script he is working on.

"What are you up to, Roman?"

Roman looks up and sees Janus approaching him, also noticing a fan and a glass of wine in both his hands. Roman blinks before shrugging and replying, "Nothing much, just drinking tea and thinking of more glorious ideas." he replies cheerily before finishing the cup and setting it down on the counter before turning his full attention towards the serpent-like side. "What's up?".

Janus presses his half-closed fan over his lips before he speaks up again. "Bored, went here to get me some refreshments," he answers simply, closing his fan and taking a sip from his wine. Roman watched carefully as he listened to Janus speak. "What's with the hand fan by the way?" he queries in curiosity, pointing at the fan Janus was holding. Janus perks up and looks at his fan, "Oh this? Just bringing it around with me, the Florida heat is insufferable." he says plainly, placing his wine glass down on the counter.

Roman nodded in understanding as he got up from his seat, walked towards the sink, and placed his mug there. "Anyway, gotta go back to work now. See ya." he chirps, shooting Janus a charming smile. The other merely nodded and looked away, opening his fan and fanning himself quickly. The creative facet watches him for a moment and shrugs before sinking out to his room.

---

He was done questing from the Imagination and he decided to go to the living room. Roman was thinking about having a movie marathon of his favorite Disney movies (which is all of them by the way), maybe he could invite the others with him. He suddenly popped out of nowhere in the middle of the room, surprising Virgil who let out a surprised scream and sprung up from his seat. Oh, and Janus was there too.

"Holy fuck, Roman! Can you not do that!?" Virgil exclaimed exasperatedly with a hand on his chest, sitting back down on the couch. Roman knew he held no malice behind his words. The princely facet plopped down beside the anxious one and ruffled the other's hair playfully, causing a hiss of annoyance from Virgil. "My bad, my bad." The creative aspect laughs sheepishly, his laughter growing louder as Virgil tries to shove him off the couch but he doesn't budge.

His eyes then landed on Janus who looked at him, the tip of his closed fan touching his lips. Roman smiles at him sweetly and waves at him, "Hey Jan—" but before he can even finish his words, he drops onto the floor face first as Virgil finally shoves him off the couch. He groaned into the carpeted floor while Janus looked amused. Janus giggled softly and shook his head, covering the lower half of his face with the fan as he suppressed his laughter.

Roman looked at him wide-eyed, surprised to hear a genuine laugh from Janus. A very rare occurrence indeed. He couldn't help but smile as well at the sight of Janus' amusement, and he felt his cheeks heat up. Roman spares Virgil's soft glare as the other laughed his ass off at Roman's current state, the creative one rolled his eyes and got up from the floor. He turns on the TV and grabs the remote before plopping back down on the couch, Now he is sitting on the empty spot near Janus.

"I'm gonna have a Disney movie marathon, Y'all interested?" Roman queries, glancing at Virgil. The anxious facet shook his head as he got up from the couch and stuffed his phone inside his hoodie pocket, "Nah. I'm gonna go take a nap.".

"What about the others? What are they doing?"

"I think Patton's taking a nap too, Lo is working with whatever he's working on, and Remus... I don't know what he's up to." Virgil states as he walks towards the stairs. "Enjoy your movie marathon by the way. I'll tell them if they're interested," he added before climbing up to his room. Roman frowns slightly. It seems that no one was interested, Sigh, poor him... Wait, Janus was there too, but he'd declined too—

"What're you going to watch?" Janus queries quietly as he continues to fan himself slowly, his eyes gazing intensely at Roman. The creative one raises his eyebrows at the other's words, before grinning happily. "Oh, I'm gonna watch Cinderella first. Are you... gonna stay and watch with me?" he smiles softly at Janus. Janus blinked and stared blankly at Roman as he processed the question. "... I guess," he muttered, shutting his fan closed.

Roman beamed happily before directing to Disney Plus where he immediately picked Cinderella to begin his movie marathon with. He places the remote down on the coffee table while excitedly flapping his hands against his lap, his eyes glued to the TV. Janus watched him closely, noticing how excited the other was. He got up from his seat and went to sit down beside the spot beside Roman. Roman turned to look at Janus, who was already looking at him, his reddish-brown eyes locked with the latter's dual-colored ones. Roman gives him a smile and Janus then places the tip of his fan over his cheeks before smiling back at the other then looks away to look at the television. The princely trait continued to watch the movie that played on the TV. He also can't help but wonder why Janus keeps doing those certain gestures using his fan.

---

Janus let out a frustrated groan as he sat up on his bed. It has been a week since he tried out his fan language technique on Roman and his clues still haven't gotten through the other trait's head yet. Why is it not working? He questioned as his arms fell limply onto his lap. (It's because barely anyone knows about fan language, Janus.). He glanced over to his side table where his fan was resting; He grabbed the handle and opened it, fanning himself with it in utter annoyance.

What does he have to do to get Roman's attention and for him to notice his dying love for him? (Fucking communicate with him). Janus huffs closes the fan and stands up, walking up to the door and heading down to look for Roman. There, in the kitchen, stood the creative facet. He was drinking his favorite tea as usual and staring into nothingness, probably lost in his thoughts again.

Janus coughed softly to get the other's attention, The other jolted before turning to look at him, his eyes widened at seeing Janus there. Janus touched the tip of his fan to his lips before batting his eyes at Roman, seemingly trying to act cute. Roman blinks in confusion and waves at him with a sheepish smile.

The deceitful trait rolled his eyes before opening his fan and placing it over his heart, hoping that Roman would get what he meant. Janus waited patiently as Roman seemed to try to understand what he meant. But alas, Roman still failed. "Janus, what are you even doing?" Roman asks curiously, tilting his head slightly.

Janus huffs before closing his fan (only in half) presses the half-closed over his lips, and does it again. All of this bullshit was fucking stupid, why can't Roman just loves him already so they can make out-- Surely this gesture would get through Roman's head, it's probably the most obvious one yet. Roman looked at him quizically and cocked his head to the side once more and blinked at the snake-like side, looking like a confused puppy.

An exasperated and annoyed noise ripped out of Janus, getting with all this guessing game they were playing. His plan was stupid and pointless, now he had to put his big boy pants on and do it himself. "Oh, you idiot—"

Janus marched towards Roman, which confused the other more, before pulling Roman by his collar and kissing him. Roman's eyes were blown wide in shock as he stared at Janus, his mind going blank. After a minute, he finally snapped out of his shocked state and everything was finally processing in his head. Roman then finally kissed Janus back, his hands tangling on the other's hair.

The both of them soon pulled away from the kiss, and both of their faces were flushed red.

"So... that's what you wanted?" Roman asked, letting out a soft chuckle. Janus looked away in embarrassment, he was still leaning close to Roman. "Yes..." he muttered softly, embarrassed by his own actions. "Well," Roman started, standing straight. "I guess you still got the message across using... what's it again?" the creative facet says, smiling lopsidedly at Janus.

"Fan language."

Roman giggles a bit at hearing Janus' answer. "You do know not everyone's going to understand that, right? And I thought I was the dramatic one," he said with an amused expression. "Hush and just kiss me." The deceptive trait murmured and unfurled his fan with a flourish, concealing both their faces from the supposed audience as their lips met once more.

--------

Writing Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @extraintrovertedalien (please tell me if you want to be added or removed in the tag list)

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #tss fanfiction #tss fanfic #roman sanders #roman sanders sides #tss roman #ts roman #ts roman sanders #janus sanders #janus sanders sides #tss janus #ts janus #ts janus sanders #roceit #romantic roceit #tss roceit #ts roceit #roceit fanfiction #vee writes

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

I collabed with the fabulously talented @krowfics for this year's @tss-storytime Big Bang! This story rocks, and you know I love me some dadceit and villainy! Please go read the amazing story on AO3! Lil bonus under the cut.

Bonus Virgil from when I was practicing the comic book art style for the main piece. I thought the classic heroes-and-villains setting should have some comic-book like art.

#tss storytime 2023 #ayri reads #ayri draws #tsss #tss #sanders sides #SaSi #ts sides #tsss art #tss art #sanders sides art #SaSi art #ts sides art #tss fanart #sanders sides fanart #tsss fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #tsss fanfic #tss fanfic #SaSi fanfic #ts sides fanfic #tssstorytimesubmission2023 #tss storytime submission 2023