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slippinmickeys · 2 months

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I have always had this idea of writing a fantasy-like AU where unbeknownst to her, Scully is a witch and Mulder has been cursed as her familiar, spending his nights, ‘Ladyhawke’-like, as an animal, and his days as a man. I doubt I’ll ever write a full-length fic, but wanted to exorcise the demon, and I had a few rare, free hours this afternoon.

Familiar

Dana wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and looked up at the dark underbelly of the canopy. The oak leaves were still, but there was fluttering movement not high above her head. Feathered things flew in the daylight, but she knew other things, darker things, flew at night. With a swallow of unease, she began to walk more quickly.

There was an old crofters cottage by the edge of the wood past the Roman road that she could rest in if she could get to it. The roof would no doubt leak in the rain and it would be damp as a toad’s foot, but she didn’t feel comfortable out in the open—not with that creature following her. Not with the shouts of “witch!” still ringing in her ears.

She turned to look behind her and saw nothing, but she could sense the animal there, hiding in the undergrowth, biding its time. Patiently stalking her, she thought.

It had been following her for the last three days, glimpses of movement on her periphery, too quick to be human. It had been following her since she’d been run out of her village, since Alexander had whispered “conjurer” to the men as they worked in the fields, to the women as they combed the wool. It had followed her like a shadow, like the rumor that had made her leave.

She spit into the duff. Alexander . He had been her friend, but she had refused his advances. His proposals of marriage. She hadn’t explained that she wanted more from life than to be a brood mare to a villein, working a landlord’s farm, but he knew and the love he’d carried in his eyes turned quickly to hate.

A branch snapped not far behind her, and she cursed her wandering mind, her hand flying to the dagger at her belt. The blade, long and old as the Norsemen who used to land on their shores, seemed to hum as she touched it. She’d named the skean “Bite,” and like the teeth of a cat, it never needed to be sharpened.

The animal, whatever it was, was growing more bold, no longer satisfied with following her at a distance. She was tiring of being stalked, and whipped around on the old game trail, her cloak twirling dramatically around her legs. As she turned, she caught a flash of amber in the moonlight.

“Out then!” She shouted. “Show yourself and let us have it out! I have a shadow already, I have no need for a new one!”

Nothing answered her but the dull hooting of an owl.

She sniffed the air, but caught no scent and turned slowly, having no choice but to continue her lonely sojourn through the wood.

She had no idea where she would go. It had to be far, far away from the village where she’d come of age, left as a babe on the doorstep of a country peasant, wrapped in quality wool with Bite tucked into the bottom of the creel in which she lay, the basket thatched together tightly with river grasses that did not grow anywhere in the whole of the county. The mantle of “conjurer” would follow her like stink clung to the hide of a pig.

She was already the odd orphan with hair like fire, where everyone around her had pelts the color of mud. Perhaps she could lose herself in one of the bigger cities. Though how she would feed, clothe and shelter herself was another matter altogether. She had only the coin she’d sown into the lining of her cloak last autumn.

Ahead, there was a break in the line of trees with dull moonlight shining on a field of barley. The light beyond the field was the grey of twilight; dawn wasn’t far away. If she could make it to the crofter’s cottage without being seen, she could sleep the day away there, rest her head and her sore, aching feet. Leave behind the feeling of being shadowed, of being shunned.

Through the field of barley she walked, a low stone wall just west of the field in a long, unending line, the barrier denoting where one landowner’s property ended and another’s began.

She looked over her shoulder. She saw nothing. A tingling at the base of her spine, however, told her that she had not lost her shadow. Whatever it was was still behind her, though she could not see it. Perhaps it was pressed to the ground like a slinking cat. Perhaps it was something that couldn’t be seen.

The barley was still green. There were tight knots of plaited beads at the tops of its stalks that would be harvested in a few months time, the rough seeds surrounded by long, thin whiskers that grazed along the skin of her arms as she walked, like a lover’s caress.

Or what a lover's caress might feel like if she’d ever granted a man her consent. Alexander was not the only young man in town to have looked at her a bit too long, but her adopted mother had been protective and had warned her of what they might do. She’d raised Dana to be strong and quick, to be aware of her surroundings. Especially when the milites came through, collecting taxes of coin and wool. Those were the men you needed to be careful of, Old Mildred had warned her. Local men could be just as dangerous, but they would think twice being that everyone knew where they laid their heads.

“Any man who touches you without invitation,” she’d tell Dana loudly whenever a villager would look at her with want. “You wait until he sleeps and slice off his cock!”

With a pang, Dana thought of the woman who had found her on her threshold as a babe, who had raised her as her own, though she’d never married, preferring the company of milking goats and chickens. She had been dead not five months, and oh how Dana’s life had changed in that short burst of time.

Over a hill and through a field of rye she walked, ducking under a stile as the light in the sky turned grey, the last of the night’s stars winking off. There at the bottom of the dale stood the crofter’s cottage, surrounded on two sides by thick, old elms.

She picked up her step, letting the pull of the earth carry her more quickly down the hill toward her salvation. The feeling of the creature behind her was even closer now and the urge to draw Bite from its scabbard at her waist and thrust it into the night behind her was nearly overpowering. Instead, she pushed on.

She was almost to the cottage with its thick oaken door. She would be behind it momentarily and safe. But of course that’s when she stumbled over a hidden root.

She fell hard on her side, wrenching her shoulder and bruising her hip. Before she could get to her feet came the sound of heavy padded feet and another crack of branch stepped on. Raising her eyes, she finally caught sight of her pursuer. A large fox, thick of pelt and red as her own hair, darted behind one of the elms just as the rays of the sun rose over the horizon behind it, blinding her momentarily. She blinked several times. And when her vision cleared, it wasn’t a fox that stepped out from behind the old tree, but a man.

Scrabbling to her feet, she whipped Bite from its sheath despite the pain in her shoulder and held it up, the sharp tip pointed at the man who stood before her.

He was young, she saw, perhaps only a year or two older than her. With the blaze of the newly risen sun behind him, his hair looked as fleecy and golden as the fox he had replaced, though when she looked more closely, she found that his hair was brown. She couldn’t discern eye color, but could see that his chin was strong, with a longish nose that leant his face character. He was tall, too. His head nearly as high as the local Sheriff’s gelding.

“Hullo,” he said, his voice light.

She did not gift him with a reply, merely flicking her blade with a quick movement of her wrist. He would know she knew how to wield the weapon she carried.

“You’re the one the villagers call Dana,” he said. His voice was like a low mumble, though pleasant enough.

“I’m the one the villagers call ‘witch,’’’ she hissed, hoping to scare him. Instead of stumbling back in fear though, the young man merely grinned.

She stared at him a long moment, waiting for him to approach or attack, but he leaned against the tree instead.

“You’ve been following me,” she finally said, lowering Bite a bit, though only a bit. She wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.

He shrugged, lackadaisical. She felt her hackles raise.

“You don’t deny it?”

He shrugged again. “It is more an act of self-preservation than ill-intentioned pursuit,” the man explained.

She was losing her fear of him. Or the fear was turning into vexation.

That she had been convinced that her pursuer was an animal rather than a man was not helping. When the fox had walked behind the tree and the man had emerged from the other side with the very breaking of dawn, she had been confused. And confusion always turned her angry. You are too intelligent, Old Mildred had always laughed. Stupid people are always happier, smart people frequently vexed.

“You are Dana, are you not?” he asked.

“You plan to turn me in to the witch slayers?”

“I plan nothing of the kind.”

“Then I am Dana,” she said, and, on a gut feeling, re-sheathed her blade.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said, looking relieved.

“You now know my name,” she said. “I ask you to tell me yours.”

Now that the sun had risen further, he was easier to see. He had kind eyes and was wearing a tightly-woven flaxen garment dyed the color of leaves in the winter.

“I only know what they called me in the village,” he said, a wistful, almost lost look on his face.

“And what’s that?”

“Fox,” he said, with a sheepish tilt to his head.

Her stomach dipped and goose flesh spread over the skin of her arms. Still, what he said was intriguing enough. “Have you no memory?”

“I have knowledge,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He knew unknowable things, she could somehow tell. “But I have no past that I know of.”

“You sound similar to me in that way.”

His eyes sharpened. “You have no past?”

“I have a story that lacks a beginning,” she said simply. “And lately am called only ‘witch.’”

“The villagers don’t know what a witch really is,” he said. “You are not what they think you are.”

“I am not,” she agreed, standing up taller and thrusting forward her chin.

“But a witch you are,” he said, taking a small step toward her. “And I? Am your familiar.”

#the x files #fanfic #my fic #au #fantasy #ficlet

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ladyviolethummingbird · 1 year

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The Gloaming

An Outlander/Jane Eyre crossover fic

Read chapter 1 here

Chapter 2: Over the sea to Shetland

A Highlander born and bred, Jamie was never particularly comfortable on the water. Unfortunately, the only way to Shetland was sailing from Aberdeen — a journey of some four days. The late-winter sea was choppy and he spent much of the trip heaving his guts over the port bow. At length, they finally docked in Lerwick, the island’s main town, and a wobbly-legged Jamie staggered ashore.

According to the instructions received from Mr Abernathy, Wolverton Hall was ten miles from the township. Having used the last of his money to pay for passage to the island, Jamie had no option but to take the journey on foot. Forlornly he watched the coach depart from the dock, a rolling mist already descending as he started along the lonely track towards his new home.

The weak afternoon sun soon gave way to the shimmering of dusk. With a small smile, Jamie recalled his father telling him about the special time of day.

“It’s called the gloaming, mo mhac. When the sun has set but the ink of night has yet to descend; that’s when the faeries come out”

In his decade at the workhouse, Jamie hadn’t the chance to sit down and appreciate the changing colours of the night sky, much less see any faeries, but it warmed his heart to remember his Da. Distracted in his reminiscing, Jamie looked up to realise that at some point he’d left the track and was now walking through ever thickening woodland. Doubling back, he tried to retrace his steps but was soon hopelessly lost.

From the dark canopy of leaves above, an owl hooted. With just enough light to see his breath forming a cloud, Jamie shivered and pulled his coat tighter around himself. Beginning to walk in what he hoped was the right direction he failed to notice a moss-covered log across his path. Right foot catching the wood he tripped and lurched forwards, soon tumbling head over heels down an embankment, coming to rest in a dried creek bed. Dirt covered his front and blood trickled down his cheek. The pain in his shoulder was searing, so much so that he couldn’t even remove his coat to properly assess the damage. After half a week when any food he’d eaten had come straight back up, Jamie was already in a weakened state. His tumble robbed him of what strength he had left and groaning in pain, he began to lose consciousness. As darkness closed in, he felt fingertips draw gently across his forehead, the scent of rosemary filling his nose. Trying to speak only produced a croak and whomever had found him shushed him into silence.

The next few hours were a blur. Rolled onto a woollen cloak, Jamie was dragged through the forest to a crumbling stone building; an old crofter’s cottage perhaps? A fire crackled in the hearth as a dampened cloth was pressed to his forehead. Jamie wondered if he was dying - freezing to death on the cold, muddy ground as his mind conjured up images of him being tended to in his hour of need. A voice - soft and feminine - cut through the fog.

“Hold still, this will only hurt a moment”

A pair of strong hands gripping his shoulder, Jamie started to cry out in protest. Unperturbed, the stranger continued, deftly manipulating the joint and popping it back into place. Confused that his pain had suddenly vanished, Jamie forced open heavy lids to identify his saviour. Golden eyes stared back at him.

“Are ye a faerie?”

The stranger laughed, a warm, lyrical sound.

“No. You need to rest now, soldier”

She pressed a cup of liquid to his lips, making Jamie feel fuzzy as the pain in the rest of his body began to melt away. He tried to focus on her cloud of deep brown curls but it was no use, seconds later the pull of slumber dragged him under.

Awaking the next morning to a smouldering fire, there was no sign of the mysterious woman. The arm of Jamie’s damaged shoulder had been put in a sling and pressed into his closed palm were several worn pennies. The whole event had been so utterly bizarre; who was the Good Samaritan and why had she helped him?

Leaving the dwelling, Jamie saw he was only steps away from the coach track he’d lost his way from the night before. With funds now to complete his journey, he gave silent thanks to the stranger and awaited the next passing coach to continue to Wolverton Hall. Focussed as he was on his new job, the young Scot couldn’t stop his mind reaching back to dwell on the beautiful angel who had rescued him. Would he ever see her again?

#outlander #outlander fanfic #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #thanks for reading #ol fan fic #ol ff #jane eyre #the gloaming

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where-are-the-spooky-gays-2 · 25 days

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SAW THE POSTS ABOUT THE LAST NAMES AND IM JUMPING IN ON THIS

Virgil Knight -- a reference to big time rush and also to a scene from a fic I'm writing, Roman calls him a dark and stormy knight and im not giving any more context

Roman and Remus Prince -- fairly obvious as to why, occasionally they will have the "Sanders" last name and they are the ONLY ones who get it (cough cough hidden knight/prince dynamic with Remus and Virgil cough cough)

Logan Berry/Crofters -- super common I feel, yet I love it

Patton Heart -- a default but I literally never write for him in human aus. I think if I wrote him a fic his last name would be something to do with a lilypad or similar frog theme, like Patton Ribbit. Silly silly times

Janus Typhon -- back before we knew janus's name I thought his name was Typhon. If memory serves correctly he was a demigod that had something to do with snakes (but I could be wrong this was years ago. Also Typhon, irregardless of how it's actually pronounced, I read it as "Ty-f-on" but I've heard it pronounced like "ty-poon")

-🐀

Don't be shy guys drop the BTR AUs /light hearted /joking /teasing No but in all seriousness those are good I've seen most of those but never the Creativitwins having the Sanders last name or Jan with Typhon I dig it for him!!!

#y'all have such cool ass last name takes it's D E L I C I O U S #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remus #ts logan #ts patton #ts janus #sanders sides #thomas sanders #asks #answers #🐀 anon #not a countdown

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ascenari0 · 8 months

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so for those in the sanders sides fandom,

I Just read the crofters fic….

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #crofters

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part-time-zombie · 10 months

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Some things I can't believe are actually canon:

Remus frequently hides in the walls and closets, to the point that people know to look for him there

Virgil hisses at people when they piss him off

Janus and remus sneak into pattons room when he's not around so they can secretly play on his ddr

Logan will rabidly eat crofters straight from the jar

Janus's cool/cocky personality is a lie; he's secretly a huge dork

The sides frequently attempt/threaten to kill each other, with no known repercussions or hard feelings being held

Remus is allergic to soap, and will still drink it without hesitation

Logan drinks wine and coffee. A lot

Patton is willing to bribe people

Patton has seen works (art/fics) regarding ships of the sides

Virgil regrets starting logan off on the "falsehood" bit, and once had to check his hearing after logan shouted a particularly loud one right next to his ear

Logan not only has a unicorn onesie, but he still likes to wear it

Roman jokes about things to show his love, and has joked about almost every side in one way or another

Remus whispers suggestions to roman in his sleep, and steals his things when he's not looking

Virgil likes Disney movies

#sanders sides #canon

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

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Cold Comforts

Prompts: Sorry if this is too much, but do you think you could maybe do another hurt Roman fic. I absolutely eat that stuff up. My idea what the after POF Roman just disappears. He’s not in his room, the mind palace, the house. The others think they’ve checked the imagination to its full extent, but they miss one part (but you can’t necessarily blame them). Roman has trapped himself in a hidden and/or invisible castle on his half of the imagination. Slowly, he begins to fade/disappear, believing the others would be better off without him. But, as he goes, so do the things that belong to him. Items in his room start to go missing. Small trinkets turn to computers and posters. Computers and posters turn into chairs and furniture. Furniture turns into literally every single thing in his room, and then that turns into the room itself. Roman won’t disappear until everything he’s tied to does. That means his room disappears, the gifts he’s given others vanish, the videos he’s featured in start to glitch and have to be taken down, his writing and art are nowhere to be found. Everything he’s made in the imagination goes poof, but that also means that castle he’s made to ‘protect’ himself. Since that’s last things that needed to go, Roman is on the brink of disappearing forever when everyone finds him. I would write it but I just don’t have a lot of motivation right now, and I’m so tired my writing comes off as gibberish. I don’t mind any ships, but I’m definitely leaning towards found family and I really love how you write the creativitwins. That’s all I really have. Throw however much angst in as you want. I just like projecting onto imaginary characters :) thanks - anon

hi again! i’m still obsessed with your Roman angst writing. Amazing, by the way ☺️ I hope you don’t mind me asking for more. So how about some Logince where Logan and Roman have a heated argument that results in Logan snapping at Roman. Roman is scared off by that and sinks out while Logan regrets his actions. Roman then avoids Logan all day and doesn’t talk to him. Until later in the middle of the night when Logan finds Roman crying on the kitchen floor and eating Crofters. Logan then takes that chance to make things right and learns a lot more about Roman. Some concerning stuff and some interesting stuff. I hope that isn’t too much! Keep up the good writing, friendo! - lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, ducking out kind of

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5151

Some arguments between Logan and Roman stay as little bits of contention.

Logan will bring up a point and Roman will read it wrong; either he'll make a joke that won't be received well or he'll take it as an insult when it wasn't intended that way. Logan will explain what he meant and the two of them will settle a little, at least until they can get back into the flow of the conversation and move past it.

Or Roman will let slip a comment he should've kept to himself and Logan will draw himself up, at least until Roman can apologize and claw it back, or he'll smirk and let loose a quip of his own and forgiveness will go unstated. They'll bounce off of each other until the conversation gets back on the rails.

This isn't one of those arguments.

"If you were capable of seeing reason, we wouldn't be in this position in the first place."

"Oh, and you think that just because you're Logic that you hold the monopoly on rationality?"

"Yes. By definition."

Roman throws his hands up, almost knocking over some of the papers. "So why do the rest of us even bother? Matter of fact, why do you even bother with the rest of us? If we're so unteachable and ridiculous?"

"Believe me, I've had the same thought many times." Logan juts his chin upward and looks down his nose at Roman. "Although some of you are more teachable than others."

"Oh, here we go again! 'Roman's stupid, Roman's dumb, Roman's un-teachable—'"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to! It's written all over your stupid prideful face every single time I say something that doesn't line up perfectly with what you want to hear!"

"Resorting to exceedingly childish insults isn't making you look any better."

"Yeah, well, what else am I supposed to do?"

"Perhaps take a breath and listen to me so then I can explain why you're wrong."

"But I'm not wrong. Maybe you should take a breath and listen to me."

Logan laughs, loud and cruel. "I should listen to you? When I need to fill my head with nonsense I have much better sources for it."

"Nonsense?"

"Yes, Roman, nonsense. This is nonsense, right now. We should have been finished about half an hour ago but you keep insisting that—"

"Because you don't know about this!" Roman gestures emphatically to the papers scattered about the table. "You don't know how to do this, you don't know how to come up with things like I do, so you have to come to me! And you have to listen to me!"

"I don't have to do anything, Roman."

"Well, if you want a halfway decent idea, then yeah, actually, you do."

Logan's mouth twitches and his hand tenses on his pen. "Arrogance is not going to do a better job of convincing me than insults."

"I'm not being arrogant, I'm telling you the truth."

"Thinking yourself irrevocably better than someone else is arrogance. Or have you somehow forgotten the meaning of the word?"

"I know what it means, don't patronize me. How come you get to be Logic and say that no one else is capable of rational thought but I can't say I'm Creativity and thus I'm naturally better at coming up with things?"

"Because I didn't say that no one else was capable of rational thought. I said that you of all people are incapable of seeing reason."

"What the hell's the difference?"

Logan smiles smugly, sitting up a little straighter. "Perhaps if you were capable of understanding reason I wouldn't need to explain it to you."

Roman growls, his hands curling into fists and Logan raises a scolding eyebrow.

"Careful, Roman. You're letting your emotions get the better of you. Again."

"I'm letting—you're antagonizing me!"

"I'm not sure you know what that word means either."

"I don't—don't you sit there and tell me I don't know what an antagonist is," Roman splutters, pointing a finger like a dagger at Logan, "and you don't have the high ground right now either."

"Why not?"

"You're insulting me as often as I'm insulting you!"

"So you can admit you've been insulting me."

Roman fumes. "So have you!"

"No. I have been pointing out facts."

"Insulting facts."

"Facts are most often insulting to people who lack the intellectual capacity to understand them."

"Lack the—are you capable of going a single sentence without calling me stupid?"

"Go a single sentence without being stupid and I won't have to."

"And here I thought you were supposed to be useful."

The room stills. Logan's face freezes for a moment and Roman winces internally. That's a button he shouldn't have pressed. Sure, maybe he wanted to needle Logan for making him so upset but he shouldn't have gone there. That's a sore spot that hasn't healed yet. He should apologize. He should apologize right now.

"I—"

"I am useful," Logan says, his voice dangerously low.

"Logan, I—"

"You, on the other hand," he continues, ignoring Roman's attempt to apologize, "are nothing but a waste of time."

Any words Roman may have had in his throat choke off. He gulps around empty air, staring at Logan.

"Are you capable of thinking of anyone but yourself? Do you understand that you are not so important that everything revolves around you?" Logan hasn't stood up, but the way he's just glaring at Roman makes it feel like he's looming over him. "You think yourself, what, some great presence or some great menace that I have to vanquish?"

Scrabbling for words in a filling grave, Roman grabs a chunk of dirt that buries him alive.

"I'm not Remus."

Logan's eyes flash dangerously. "No, Roman. You are not Remus. Remus has a function. Remus serves a purpose. And Remus, despite what you think of him—"

I love him. I love him, he's my brother, he's my Remus. I'm sorry, Re, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry.

"—is actually capable of listening to reason. You, Roman, you are not. At best you are a nuisance and a mild inconvenience, one easily dealt with and not worth the time it takes to do so."

He takes a moment to collect himself.

"I am busy. I cannot afford to waste time on you. If you are so determined to thrill me with impossible feats, go and find somewhere you are wanted."

Roman's chest burns.

He stares wordlessly at Logan, who just stares back at him. Against all hopes he wants Logan to take it back, the way he was going to, to apologize or realize what he just said or something, something, but he doesn't. He just stares at Roman and glares and then he turns away.

He packs up his things and leaves.

Roman is left alone.

He stares after him for a long time, still in shock. The words bounce around and around his head like bullets ricocheting off metal plates only to score grazes in every surface. They replay over and over and over until they threaten to swallow him whole.

He's not stupid. He's not stupid. He knows that there are ways to draw attention to himself that aren't good and that he—he can be a nuisance sometimes. And in being a nuisance, he's cultivated an atmosphere where the lack of him is to be looked forward to. But he—he's not stupid. He knows that where that comes from is the opposite; everything he's done, every part of the persona he's crafted, is in defiance of that invisibility.

This isn't a revelation, he realizes, but the difference between knowing and knowing. The kind that gets sobbed into your pillow in the dead of night.

And in that petty, spiteful, semantic kind of defiance that children are so often accused of, he sinks out to his room because that's where Patton said he wants him to stay.

He stumbles around the room in a state of shock, clumsy and inelegant and utterly irredeemable, knocking into his bookshelf and his desk and almost tripping over a notebook he left lying on the floor. He strips off the prince costume and throws it away like it burns to touch, staggering to the bed in nothing but undershirt and boxers and crawling under the covers.

He shouldn't be doing this. He's just proving Logan right. But he doesn't want to be something other than he is right now and if Logan thinks he's a stupid child that throws temper tantrums and sulks when he doesn't get his way, then he's allowed to curl up into a ball and clutch his hand to his chest. It's still hurting, the words still dragging themselves over his exposed nerves, and he curls up around it like he could offer it protection.

He should go to someone, he knows. They've all been trying to get better about asking for help and support. He should get up and go—but who would he go to?

Patton would want to hear everything that happened and he'd be scolded for being so mean to Logan. Patton would make him go apologize right then and there and he doesn't think he could bear going anywhere near Logan right now.

Virgil would take Logan's side immediately, he's sure of it. Virgil calls him stupid all the time, he'd probably be happy that someone finally told you like it is, Princey, deal with it.

Janus would take Logan's side too. Not because he'd necessarily agree with him—even though he would—but because it's not Roman's side.

Remus…Remus would hate him.

A pained noise leaves the safety of the covers and Roman only belatedly realizes it's him. He doesn't want to go and expose himself anymore to the possibility of being hurt. He wants to run away and lick his wounds and be upset all by himself. He doesn't want to be accused of being attention-seeking and overdramatic and all of that, doesn't want to be lectured and scolded and then—only then—offered the barest scraps of comfort like a starving animal being tossed a bone. He doesn't want to be hurt and then have them say it's for his own good. He doesn't want that, he doesn't want that, he doesn't want that.

He wants someone to just come and hold him. To say it's okay that he's upset—not even that he was right or that Logan shouldn't have said that or even that it's all going to be okay.

He just wants someone to comfort him. It doesn't have to be big or sweeping or anything, they don't have to stay for a long time, they don't—it doesn't have to be large or—or complicated, he doesn't—he just wants a hug, okay? Or not even a hug, it doesn't have to be a hug, it can just be a touch or something—or not even that, it can just be a—a look, or a nod or—okay, it doesn't even have to be that, okay? He just—he just wants—

He just wants, okay?

Roman's eyes start to grow heavy and he curls up tighter, limp and aching fingers brushing against his face as he almost nuzzles into his hand. He moves his head until he can get his nose tucked into the space under his thumb and feel the shuddering of his own breath against his palm. Oh, he wants and wants and wants and in the safety of the covers he can pretend.

"Shh," he mumbles in a half-voice that he's more thinking than saying, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay."

He brushes his lips against the skin there and it almost feels like a kiss.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, shh…it's alright. It's okay. It's okay, it's okay." He does it again, trying to narrow his focus down to just that, the gentleness of the touch and the shaking voice from his own throat. "It's alright. Shh, it's alright."

His fingers twitch from a small gust that blows under the blanket and he moves, pressing it deeper into the chasm between his chest and the bed and lets his breath blow warm and stuffy over the skin again.

"Shh-shh-shh," he warbles in broken half-tones, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

Slowly, he works himself back from the brink, mumbling the half-comfort to his hand until the thought of moving no longer threatens to tear him apart. He keeps at it as he drags himself from beneath the covers, as he drags on a t-shirt and shorts, mumbling that it's okay, we just have to go get something to eat, then we can come back and sleep. He keeps the hand pressed to his chest, holding his breath as he creeps down the stairs.

It's late. Well past midnight. The others are likely gone to their separate corners of the Mindscape. Had he the wherewithal to notice he might feel ridiculous, stealing away like a thief in the night as he makes his way to his own kitchen, but all he has space for is the lifeline of comfort that he still murmurs in the darkness.

"Just a little further," he mumbles, "almost there."

The kitchen looms in sharp lines and cold surfaces. He lumbers in and goes to the cabinet, reaching up for the one food he knows he can eat. The fingers on his useful hand brush against the cool glass of the Crofter's bottle and he takes it down, slumping to the floor and curling up, only belatedly realizing he didn't grab a spoon and groping around until he can get one.

It's his jar, almost empty, but just enough left that if he eats it he can make it until morning.

The spoon clinks and rattles as he props the jar up in his lap, eating clumsily until he can scrape the spoon around the edges and get the last of it. He starts crying somewhere in the middle and he only notices because it starts to taste salty.

Almost done, he thinks to his hand, almost there. It's okay. Shh, shh, it's okay.

He's just about to throw the empty jar away and skulk back to his room when the stairs creak.

Don't come here. Oh, god, please don't come in here.

The footsteps get closer. He curls up tighter, thinking maybe he won't be seen in the dark. They get closer.

A shadow looms in the sliver of light from the window.

Don't see me. Please don't see me.

A figure rounds the corner and stops, staring down at him. Its eyes narrow behind glasses as it sees the jar clutched in Roman's hands.

Logan doesn't get the chance to say anything before Roman is gone.

He drops into some random part of the Imagination and just runs. His bare feet cry out in protest as he runs over jagged rocks and sharp stones but he pushes onward. His hand lies useless in the wind, just aching from the memory of harsh words and the panic of being discovered by Logan. The frightened animal that lives in his brain digs its teeth into the soft part of his heart and makes him run faster, faster, faster.

Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted.

Unbeknownst to him, the Imagination is building him something. A tall tower, high enough that its head loses itself in the clouds, invisible save for the way clouds can't pass through it, where he can curl up in a small room and be far away from everyone else. It waits until he collapses from sheer exhaustion, carrying him up, up, up, closing itself around him until he's locked in.

Roman doesn't notice any of that. He's too busy curled around his hand again, trying to murmur to it, comfort it, drag himself out of this ache again. He chokes on the words it's okay and it's alright and so he gasps out shh, shh, shh.

Sobs force their way out of his throat and it just hurts. He keeps trying, struggling to shush them, to shush his hand, to shush himself, to give himself something, anything, just to make it stop.

But his hand is just a hand and the pain is just pain. There's no tragedy in it, no pity in it, nothing redeemable or salvageable from the mess he's made.

He really is stupid.

* * *

A jar, discarded and empty on the kitchen floor. It clinks as it rolls over the boards until it comes to a stop, resting in the shadow of the stove.

Its label, half rubbed away from being handled, still clings stubbornly to the glass. One of the letters is still visible, just slightly, the single 'R' barely more than an outline in the faint light from the windows.

The lid is still up on the counter, laid on its back, cold and alone on the flat surface. The jar is somewhere else, air blowing through the empty spaces where it should be.

It fades away as the morning sun dawns, still empty.

* * *

"Hey, Pat," Virgil calls as he walks downstairs, "have you seen Roman?"

Patton frowns, glancing around the living room. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"Something really weird is happening and I think it's his fault."

"What's going on?"

Virgil comes into the kitchen and holds up his phone. One of their videos is playing but as they watch, it starts to glitch, skipping back and forth as though someone's dragging the slider.

"Huh. That's weird."

"Right?"

"Why do you think Roman has something to do with this?"

"'Cause all the parts it's skipping are the parts with him in it. And look at this." Virgil taps through a menu. "See?"

The thumbnails with Roman in them are conspicuously missing a certain prince. Patton puts his hands on his hips. "Well, that is strange."

"That's what I said. So yeah, we need to find him."

"I haven't seen him in a few days, I don't think. I guess I thought he was busy."

"Well, great, who was the last person to see him?"

"See who?"

"Do not do that," Virgil grumbles, helping himself up from the stair rail as Janus strides from the shadows, "you'll make me break something."

"Oh, relax, you're fine."

Virgil mutters something decidedly unflattering and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Have you seen Roman?"

"Not for a while, no." He frowns. "Why, is something wrong?"

They show him what's happening to the videos and he hums.

"That's…that's not good."

"No, it isn't."

"We need to find Remus."

"Wait, what? Why Remus?"

"He's the one who'll most likely know what Roman's done to cause this." Janus is already striding away. "Come on. We need to hurry."

They do, because as they walk they realize that Roman's poster is gone. Then his paintings. They break into a run when they see that his door is no longer bright red.

"Remus," Janus barks as they tear into the other living room, "Remus, we need you now."

As soon as Remus appears they know he knows already. He's almost frothing at the mouth, his hands itching around his Morningstar as he glares at them.

"What did you do," he snarls, "where is he?"

"We were coming to ask you," Virgil says, his hands raised, "we haven't seen him. We don't know."

Remus glares at all of them before looking at Janus, who nods. "He's Fading. He's trying to disappear. We need to find him now."

"Wait, Fading? What's that mean?"

"Like ducking out but worse, 'cause he's Creativity and I'll be happy to explain this once he's back. Now who saw him last?"

"Not me," Patton says, "I only saw him at breakfast a few days ago with everyone."

"That's the last time I saw him too."

"Janus?"

"We met up briefly to discuss a show but he had to leave early. Said he was…"

Remus growls as Janus trails off. "Said he was what?"

"…meeting with Logan. He had to go meet with Logan."

No sooner has Janus finished speaking, Remus reaches out a hand and yanks. A body falls to the ground in front of him.

"Start talking, bitch boy," he snarls, stalking over to loom over Logan, "what the fuck did you do to my brother?"

"I didn't—I don't know—"

An animalistic roar leaves Remus's throat and he hefts the Morningstar, ready to bring it down when Virgil catches his wrist.

"Hey, hey, easy! If you hurt him, we won't find out what happened!"

"He hurt Roman."

"We don't know that for sure, Remus, just—just take a second, okay?"

"I don't care—"

"Look at him," Janus interrupts quickly, "Remus, look at him."

Remus growls and tears himself free from Virgil's hold but does. Logan is still on the ground, his hands raised in surrender, glasses askew on his face. His shirt is dirty, tie mussed and torn, scratches on his arms and neck.

Wait.

"You were looking for him," Remus spits, "in the Imagination, weren't you?"

Logan swallows. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're right. He's Fading and he's not anywhere else and that's the only place he can be but I don't know where else to look."

"Why is he Fading," Patton asks as Virgil has to hold Remus back again, "what happened?"

Janus gives Logan a warning look as he opens his mouth.

"…we had an argument."

"I get into arguments with Princey all the time," Virgil says sharply, "they don't end with Roman Fading."

"I may have said some things."

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"I—we're running out of time, we need to find him—ah!"

Remus, quicker than Virgil, shoots forward and pins Logan to the wall, Morningstar thrust against his chest. Logan winces as the spikes dig into him and Remus just growls.

"If you do not tell me exactly what you said to him," he says in a calm voice, "you and I are gonna run a little experiment on how hard it is to break the human spine."

Logan swallows. "I…I called him stupid. I said he—that he was incapable of listening to reason and that he—he should go somewhere where he was wanted."

"Why," Virgil growls, "in the fuck did you do that?"

"I was angry," he defends weakly, "I—I didn't mean it, I just wanted to hurt him—"

"Congratulations," Janus says lowly, "you did. You hurt him so badly he wants to disappear."

"I didn't know that," Logan says impatiently, "and I was trying to fix it! I went and looked for him the moment I'd calmed down enough to realize it was wrong and he wasn't anywhere! I only managed to find him that night in the kitchen and he vanished before I could say a thing!"

"Remus," Janus says softly, pulling Remus back, "we need to look in the Imagination. You know it better than the rest of us, where is he?"

Remus glares at Logan one more time before stalking to the door and ripping it open. "He's going to be hidden. The Imagination is him when he gets like this, if he's scared and hurt it's going to protect him."

But the Imagination they step into isn't rolling fields or towering castles or fairytale woods. It's glitching messes of clumps of grass and loose bricks, a white and lifeless sky overhead. Remus growls and breaks into a run.

"Look for anything that is still intact," he barks over his shoulder, "that'll be the last to go."

They run for hours.

A broken scarecrow, its arms dangling by the thinnest splinter as a crow glitches in and out of existence.

A frog, frozen mid-leap as its legs reach for nothing.

A bridge, splintered and torn by something massive except all that's left of it are shards of wooden boards.

They're losing him.

"There," Virgil shouts, pointing, "the tower!"

A single tower, the only thing still intact, stretching as high as the clouds, its shadow as long and thin as a needle as it pierces the last of the ground. They race towards it and crash through the door.

"Whoa!"

"I've got you, I've got you."

"Is everyone alright?"

"Don't fall!"

For there are no stairs inside this tower. Only a bottomless pit that stretches into yawning nothingness. Remus blocks the path with his body, Janus's arms around his waist as Logan and Virgil cling to the crumbling walls.

"How the hell do we get up there?"

"We climb."

"You can't be serious."

Remus hoslters the Morningstar star and digs his hands into the brick. He hoists himself up and glances down. "Sooner or later the rest of this is gonna go. You wanna be down here when it does or you wanna be closer to Roman?"

Brick by brick.

Hand over hand.

Inch by inch.

When Remus finally touches smooth wood, feeling around for the latch of the trapdoor, he shoves it open and they pile in, panting from the effort of it as he looks desperately around for Roman.

In the center of the room, surrounded by a wooden shell, is a pile of blankets and pillows. If he strains, he can hear quiet mutters coming from within. Leaving the others on the floor, he stands up and cautiously makes his way over, crouching down and peeling back the very top layer.

"Oh, Ro…"

Roman lies there, curled into a ball, cobwebs and dust caked on his skin. The only parts free from it are his face and one of his hands, his lips moving just enough to let air circulate and blow it away. Tear tracks are evident in the soot, his voice so overtaxed only the faintest sounds still audible.

Just enough to make them out.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay. Shh. Shh. It's alright. Shh."

A lump rises in Remus's throat and he reaches out shakily, pulling the covers away. "Roro, Roro, it's me. It's me, Ro-Bro, I'm here."

Nothing.

"Roman, it's me," he tries desperately, "Ro-Bro, Ro, Roman!"

"Roman?"

"Roman, it's us."

"Open your eyes, little prince, we're here, it's okay."

Roman twitches slightly as Janus speaks but doesn't stir.

"Why isn't it working? What do we have to do?"

Remus shakes him harder. "Roman, wake up!"

"It won't work."

They all turn to stare at Logan.

"What do you mean," Remus hisses, "that it won't work?"

"He needs to be comforted," Logan says, slowly approaching the shell too, "he—he's trying to comfort himself. Let me try."

Virgil glances at Remus and tugs Patton and Janus back. Remus glares at him but doesn't stop him.

"If you fuck this up—"

"Then I'm your lab rat, I know."

"Good."

Logan takes a deep breath and looks in.

Oh, little one, he thinks as he takes in Roman's poor state, oh, I never meant for this, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

He lifts a shaking hand and fits it clumsily around Roman's.

"Shh," he murmurs, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's alright. It's alright. Shh, shh."

Roman's hand twitches.

"It's okay," he says again, "shh-shh-shh, it's okay. You're alright. It's all okay."

Roman stills, then slumps. Logan fits his other hand to his face, not wincing at how cold it is.

"You're okay," he keeps saying softly, "shh, little one, you're okay. It's alright. It's okay."

The ground rumbles. Color begins to bleed back into the sky. Logan leans down and puts his mouth to Roman's ear.

"I'm sorry, little one," he whispers, "I'm sorry, it's okay. Shh, shh, I'm sorry."

"It's working!"

"Keep going, Logan, it's working."

"Come on, Roman, you can do it."

"Shh, little one, it's okay." He runs his fingers through Roman's hair, shaking loose the dust and debris. "It's all okay now."

Slowly, painfully slowly, he coaxes Roman's Imagination back to life. He brushes away the dust and the cobwebs and murmurs that it's okay, you're alright now, it's going to be alright. Every word that leaves his lips leaves Roman looking a little more like he's just asleep.

He debates with himself for a moment, before leaning up and brushing a kiss across Roman's temple.

"I'm right here."

Something shudders.

"Roman?"

Roman's eyes flutter and slowly open. "L-Logan?"

"Hello, little one," he whispers, "it's okay. I'm here now."

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

#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #janus sander #fic

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mythica0 · 2 years

Text

Salty to sweet

🎂: Sanders Sides

🧁: Virgil, Logan

🍫: Roman, Remus

🍭: Prinxiety, Intrulogical

🍨 fic

TW: foul language and Remus . Just Remus.

Salty to sweet

It was just one of those days.

Both Logan and Virgil were feeling kinda grumpy. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, if Logan had his vocabulary cards correct.

Logan had been in his room working all day and got snippy at anyone who tried to talk to him .

Virgil was listening to his emo music and ignoring everything around him.

This did not sit well with the creative brothers; Roman & Remus, who were each sides respective boyfriends.

The two were currently talking about it in their shared room.

“Ugh! I’m at a loss! Virgil won’t even open his door, how am I supposed to cheer him up!�� Roman said in exasperation.

“I don’t know,” started the other twin, “but I think I have an idea of where to start.”

❤️💜❤️💜💚💙💚💙❤️💜❤️💜💚💙💚💙

The plan was fairly simple, however, there was one insy winsy tiny little massive problem.

The twins had to get their boyfriends out of their respective bedrooms and into the living room first.

Roman thought that by telling Virgil he was watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and asking ‘would he like to join?’ Would do the trick, and it did.

However Virgil wanted Roman to make some food and change into his onesie first. Not too hard.

Remus was having a bit more trouble. “Ugh, sword fighting whale penises! He keeps insisting that he needs to work! I can’t get him to take a break and come down!”

Roman winced at Remus’ exclamation before recovering and saying “have you tried offering crofters?”

Silence.

“Come to think of it, I didn’t think of it!” Roman snorts at his brothers corny wording as Remus types the message and hits send, the text sends, and remains read for about 2 seconds before a (likely very eager) reply of “I’m on my way” comes through.

Remus laughs lightly at his boyfriends response before lightly tossing his phone on the couch. Roman , after doing so, texts Virgil telling him that he has the movie ready to play, popcorn in the table, and is up to dress code.

Both boys arrive downstairs at roughly the same time, Logan first, wearing his usual polo shirt, jeans and Necktie. Virgil lagging behind a bit, in his skeleton onesie.

Remus grabbed the crofters out of the fridge and set it on the table with some bread just in case.

“Oh. “ Logan stated , his way of showing surprise. “I was not informed we would be watching a movie. “

“That’s because you didn’t let me finish. I offered crofters and you immediately came on down. “ Remus scoffs, not unkindly.

“Fair point. “ Logan nods and pushes up his glasses.

“So are we getting started or what. “ a grumpy gruff town states from the other side of the room.

“Yep! Let’s settle down on the couch, hmm?”

The wordless response is that both sets of boys sit on the couch.

Sneakily, the twins enact their plan. They snake their arms around their boyfriends, holding them in a way that they couldn’t escape , without being uncomfortable or realizing what’s going on.

“Actually , Virgil. Me and Remus have a surprise for you guys before we start. “

Virgil hums and Logan says “the correct phrasing would be Remus and I”

Remus just responds by saying “hush, nerdy wolverine. “

Then, with a silent countdown, the twins start ‘attacking’ their boyfriends, scribbling at their sides and poking their tummies.

Both boys , suprised, immediately burst out laughing .

“Whahahahat theheheh fuhuhuhuhck? “ Virgil manages through his laughter . “You better hope Patton doesn’t hear you! Or you might be tickle tickle tickled even more!” Roman teases, his smile growing when Virgil breaks out in a light blush.

“Thihihis. Ihihihis nohohot aha vehehehery gohohood suPRHIHISe” he squeaks at the end when Remus squeezes his thigh.

“You are in No position to be rude, teach.”

“Ohoho shihiHIhIt.” Logan responds

“Hey look brother, we turned them from salty to sweet! “ Roman exclaimed

“Indeed we did, but I think we could use a bit more sugar!”

——————————————————————-

The boys continued for a while just like that, teasing their boyfriends and playfully scribbling against their ticklish spots, before Roman gets an idea, a very very evil idea .

Giving his brother a look that says “follow along” Roman speaks “Y’know, we added some sugar into this salty dish, but I think it needs a little extra kick.” He says, grinning evilly

“Oh, I agree, what kinda kick were you thinking?” Remus catches on quickly, matching Roman’s grin as they both continue to assault their lovers with tickles .

“Something fruity , that’s for sure “

“Like us!”

Roman sighs, “like us. However, I can’t think of what fruit to add. Do you have any ideas?”

“I was thinking…. Raspberries?”

“I couldn’t of come up with a better idea!”

“Ohohoho nohohoho . Nohohohot thahahat!” Virgil exclaimed , although he didn’t really mean it. He had to admit, if only to himself, laughing this much was starting to make him feel better.

Logan was very much in the same boat . His mood having been greatly impacted.

I hope your ready! In three, two, one, “ Remus started

“PBBbBBbBbFFt” both twins raspberried at the same time .

“AAHHHahahahahahhahaHa! “CRAHHAHap DoHOHont DoHOhoo THaHAHat!” Logan

“No can do!” That was Roman. Remus nods , they both breathe

“PBBbbBbBbbFFfFT”

More raspberries. More laughter.

After a while, the twins stop, leaving two very giggly sides curled up in their laps.

“So, we still up for a movie?” Roman says, lightly shaking the remote .

Both boys just nod weakly.

As the opening song plays, the twins both think

‘Definitely turned them from salty to sweet.’

—————————-THE END —————————

#parrotwrites #sfw tickle community #lee!logan #lee!virgil #ler!remus #ler!roman #sanders sides tickles

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oliviaischillin1204 · 11 months

Text

This Fanfiction Of Sanders Sides Is Called "Bluey" Part 2: Virgil and Remus

[olivia's note: hey y'all! this is chapter 2 of a fic by the amazing anne onymous!]

chapters (1) 2 (3) (4)

Patton searched for Virgil in his room but he wasn't there. He continued to search through the Mind Palace until he walked back into the living room and found him napping on the couch, a very common sight. He contemplated giving him a blanket and a kiss on the forehead like usual, but then a more fun idea came to mind. He walked over to the sleeping emo and gently shook his shoulder, causing Virgil to stir. "Hey kiddo. Sleep ok?" Patton asked quietly. Virgil nodded, letting out a yawn and rubbing his eyes. He looked up and noticed Patton's Bandit onesie. "Nice onesie." Virgil whispered. "Thanks. Want some company?" Patton asked softly. Virgil nodded and moved over, giving Patton room to lie down next to him. Patton almost chuckled when Virgil seemed to instinctively snuggle up to him and returned the embrace. Virgil was always extra cuddly when he's sleepy. "I'm like a human pillow, huh?" Patton joked, smiling at Virgil's faint nod. After a couple of minutes, it was safe to assume Virgil fell asleep again and Patton contemplated napping away the afternoon with him, but he still needed to help Roman. Luckily, he already had a plan in mind for waking up Virgil.

Patton began to lazily draw shapes with his fingers on Virgil sides, causing him to smile and twitch in his sleep. Patton switched from drawing to poking which got a few sleepy giggles, but Virgil still didn't wake up. Finally, Patton started rapidly squeezing his sides and Virgil woke up squealing and cackling. "Hahahahaha! Whahat's gohohoing ohohohon?" Virgil squeaked, wriggling around in Patton's arms. "I'll tell ya what's going on. I'm not a human pillow, I'm a crazy pillow! Tickle tickle tickle!" Patton teased, spidering across Virgil's tummy. "GAHAHAHAHAHA! PAHAHATTOHOHON!" Virgil bellowed, kicking and bucking. "Whoops, sorry kiddo. Forgot that's your worst spot." Patton apologised, moving back to his sides. "Apohohology accehehepted! Hahahahaha!" Virgil laughed. Patton couldn't help the huge smile on his face as he looked at Virgil, his eyeshadow purple and glittery as he wiggled and giggled his heart out. But when he started hiccuping between laughs, it was time to stop. Patton let go and kept his hands away, even when Virgil rolled off the couch. "You ok?" Patton asked. Virgil gave a weak nod as he recovered from the phantom tickles until his breathing fully calmed down.

"Well, at least I'm awake and in a good mood. So, thanks, I guess." Virgil said. "You're welcome. And since you're awake now, could you help me with something?" Patton asked. "If I can, sure." Virgil replied. "Do you know where I can find Remus?" Patton inquired. Virgil's eyes widened in shock and his eyeshadow went back to black. "You're actually actively looking for Remus? On purpose?" Virgil questioned. "He's been giving Roman a hard time and I told him I'd help." Patton explained. "Ok, that makes a lot more sense. But still a little surprising since you hate Remus." Virgil confessed. "'Hate" is a pretty strong word. I don't hate Remus, I'm just...not particularly fond of him and kinda scared of him." Patton reasoned. "Either way, I don't know where he is, but I know how to get him to come to you." Virgil said, summoning a sheet of paper and handing it to Patton. "Just follow the instructions and he'll show up, which I don't wanna be here for, so I'm heading back to my room." Virgil explained, getting up to leave. "Thanks Virgil!" Patton chirped. Virgil gave an acknowledging nod and left the room. Patton looked over the list of instructions Virgil gave him and went to the kitchen.

First step was simple: find a container and pretend to struggle opening it, groaning loudly and all. Patton looked around the kitchen, observing his options, until he decided to grab a Crofters jar. He pretended to struggle and groan then proceeded to the 2nd step which was to say certain phrases that were listed. "This is so hard! I can do this all day, you know!" Patton groaned, pretending to be angry at the jar. After a few more innuendos, he opened it. Time for step 3. "Ah. That was satisfying." Patton sighed before hiding under the table. Just as he hoped, Remus appeared. "That's what she–What the fuck?" Remus blurted out, looking around in confusion. With no time to waste, Patton tackled Remus to the floor and pinned him down. "Oooh, you have my attention now, Daddy." Remus teased, winking. "Normally that would gross me out, but not today. Know why? Because a certain someone has been naughty and needs to be punished. And I have a certain way of teaching bad boys some manners." Patton stated. "Oh really?" Remus asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Mm-hmm. Roman!" Patton called out. As soon as Roman popped up, it fully dawned on Remus what was happening. "Shit!" he whisper-shouted.

"Did you really think I was never going to tattle to Dad?" Roman asked, kneeling next to Remus. He moved his shirt up and sat on his upper arms, leaving both of Patton's hands free. "Thank you Roman, you're very helpful. And speaking of helpful, I heard there's two helpful little crabs that would like to assist us." Patton said, making pincer motions with his hands. Roman smirked and copied him. "What the fuck are you two talking about?" Remus asked. "TICKLECRABS!" Patton and Roman yelled before attacking Remus at the same time. Roman went for the armpits and Patton went for his belly, causing Remus to shriek, buck, cackle, squeal and swear like a sailor. "NOHOHOHOHO! FUHUHUCK YOHOU BAHAHASTAHARDS! HAHAHAHAHA!" Remus laughed. As if two people tickling him wasn't bad enough, Patton and Roman were saying nothing but "tickle tickle tickle tickle" over and over again, which seemed to be making it worse. He tried bucking, shaking, wriggling, twisting and even attempted to punch and kick but it was futile. He was pinned down good with no chance of escaping. Suddenly there was a glimmer of hope in the form of Logan's sudden appearance.

"Excuse me?!" Logan yelled over Remus's boisterous laughter, causing Roman and Patton to halt their attack. "Hi Logan!" Patton greeted. "Hey Specs." Roman said. "Logan, save me!" Remus begged. "Whatever it is the three of you are up to, can you please try to keep it down a little? I was trying to read upstairs but it's hard to focus when all I could hear was confounded cackling." Logan complained. "Sorry. We were just teaching a certain brother of mine a lesson or two about boundaries and Bluey references." Roman explained. "Lesson learned! Now let me go, Pissy!" Remus barked. "Such language in Patton's presence! I'd say we need to wash your mouth out with soap, but you're allergic." Roman taunted. "Sounds like someone hasn't learned their lesson and tried to lie to us to weasel out of it." Patton teased, wiggling his fingers threateningly. "Logan, help!" Remus begged. "Come on, Teach. What's better? Reading a book, which you can do any time, or seeing Remus being figuratively put in his place?" Roman queried. Logan remained silent before sitting at the table, placing his book down. "You may continue." Logan said. Remus was about to protest but it was too late. Patton and Roman already picked up where they left off and went back to teasing and tickling.

"GAHAHAHAHAHA! I FUHUCKING HAHATE YOHOHOU, LOHOGAHAHAN! HAHAHAHAHA!" Remus cackled. "Love you too, Remus." Logan responded nonchalantly. Remus would've flipped him off if he could. This was torture, and not the good kind. Just as he thought this couldn't get any worse, he felt Roman move his scribbling fingers to his neck and Patton worked his way down to his hips. "AHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOHOHOHOHO!!! PLEHEHEHEASE, GUHUHUYS, STOHOHOHOP!!!" Remus screamed as two of his worst spots were attacked ruthlessly. "Hmmm. What do you think, Roman? Should you two stop?" Logan asked. "Hmm, I'm not sure, Logan. This par-tickle-ar Duke seems untrustworthy." Roman replied as he continued to torment his brothers neck with tickles, Patton giggling at his pun. "I CAHAHAHAN'T BREHEHEHEATHE!!!" Remus wheezed. "Ok, we'll stop. Can't have you dying on us, now can we?" Patton asked rhetorically, immediately stopping. Roman groaned and stopped also. Logan merely smirked as he watched them, Remus curling into himself and breathing heavily as he got the last of his laughs out. "Are you ok, Remus?" Logan asked. Remus flipped him the bird, too weak to speak yet. "I think it's safe to say he's alright." Roman remarked.

"Now Remus, do you understand why me and Roman did this?" Patton inquired. "Because Roman is a whiny bitch and decided to snitch?" Remus sassed. "We did this to teach you about limits, boundaries, and that "no" means "no" and "stop" means "stop". It wasn't very fun when we kept going even though you were miserable, was it? How do you think Roman felt?" Patton questioned. Remus rolled his eyes. He liked torturing his brother, but now Patton ruined the fun by showing him how it feels. "Is there something you'd like to say to your brother?" Patton asked. "Fuck you." Remus said, freezing when he felt Patton grab his ankle. "You wouldn't." Remus said. "Wouldn't I?" Patton asked, dragging his boot off before swiping a finger up his sole. "Ok, ok! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Remus yelled. "One more time, a bit slower please?" Roman asked. "I'm. Sorry." Remus repeated slowly. "For what, specifically?" Roman queried. "For tickling you too much, even when you said "no" and "stop"." Remus replied. "And?" Roman inquired. "Tickling you to the point where you pissed yourself or nearly passed out." Remus added. "And do you promise to never do that again?" Roman asked. "Yes! Can I go now?!" Remus barked. "You're excused." Patton said. Remus grabbed his boot and sank out.

To be continued...

#my posts #submission #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #sanders sides tickling #anne onymous

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moonbeam-dragon · 5 months

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#tss logan #logan sanders #ts logan #logan x crofters #the crofters fic #sanders sides #nsfs logan #not safe for sanders

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nehswritesstuffs · 11 months

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hello!! for the fanfic writer asks, would you be interested in answering:

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

13. How much planning do you do before writing?

27: Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

29: Share a bit from a fic you'll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don't have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don't plan on getting to.)

you don't have to answer all of these! or you can! for any fandom! thank you!! ♥️

Hi! Oooh, those are some nice ones.

10. The Thick of UNIT! It's crossover crackfic, with a crossover crackship, that I thought was going to just be mostly me clowning on a throwaway line, but it's gotten fic written of it...? And at least one person uses an OC name as a tumblr username...? I'm shooketh. Plus I want to finish it one day, but each time I open the file I'm smacked with writer's block. (I'm also attempting a beta-reader on it, but idk when that'll be able to pan through at this point.)

13. All of it and none of it. I'm one of those assholes that can just sort of write without much planning if anything (if it's any consolation, it helped lead to shit grades in English class for composition), but sometimes I acknowledge that my memory is ADD-riddled shit so I do write some stuff down if a thing gets big enough. This reminds me that I need to continue what I sunk last summer into planning ahahahaha orz it's taunting me.

27. Nervous...? I don't know if that's the right word for it...? I mean, I've been writing fic for so long that I don't recall being specifically nervous. Maybe the closest would be Lackluster (FFN/AO3), if only because I might get judged for writing a rarepair I've literally never seen before in my life. Law and Viola? Sure, why the fck not. My that admission, Love, Loss, and Finding One's Self on the High Seas can qualify because I also do a weird rarepair in that one too for, like, half a second (Zoro/Reiju, baybee).

29. So, I've got this dynamic fic I've got a bunch of wips and one-shots and story ideas in and sometimes it's where I plop a whole-ass multichapter fic in there, and this is the beginning of one that's on the chopping block for next time I save the new document, because it's been literal years since I added to it. Six-hundred-three words of a probably Doctor Who fic under the cut.

Bill looked at the scrap of yellowed paper in her hand, the pencil used to scribble on it had long faded to a light grey. The cool breeze teased her giant poof of hair and made her jacket dance around her; country air always made her feel uneasy. In the city she could smell things on the breeze—food, cars, people, places—yet out in the country, on the lonely dirt road in front of the low stone-and-moss wall that guarded a stone-and-moss house, she smelled nothing of the sort. It was all animal poo, if there was anything, and she hated it. Adjusting the bag on her shoulder, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves, hoping what she smelled was not simply more poo of a viler sort. She wasn’t entirely certain about this… but then again, what could she do? Where could she go? She had run out of options—this had to be it. There wasn’t anything else that she could possibly… bloody hell. She tried to push open the gate and the lock froze on her, barring her entry. Pocketing the paper with the address, she attempted to simply hop over the wall instead, but it was too thick for her specific height to make a smooth go of it. Her legs went just a bit too far and she cringed, knowing she was going to feel that in the morning. Biscuit-tin, that’s what this place was, she decided as she finally made it over the wall. It looked like a crofter’s plot on a biscuit tin one would find in a Sainsbury near Christmas. Then again, what else did she expect going to the Middle of Glen Nowhere, in the foothills of Ben Nothing? A lot of bloody bunk. As she made her way closer to the house, a flock of brown, horned sheep came round the back of the building and began to swarm her. They didn’t try to do anything—that wasn’t it at all—but they still surrounded her and prevented the stranger from approaching the door, bleating hopefully as they greeted their visitor. It was then that the sound of a small airplane began to rumble through the air, attempting to be heard over the wind and sheep. A tiny dot in the sky high above the horizon to start, Bill watched as the plane flew closer, almost going and clipping the roof of the house when it passed overhead on its first go over the property. She watched the sheep as they all moved as one towards the plane; their field became a runway and—after the craft stopped—it was surrounded by the beasts. The engine died down and two people climbed out, one tall and lanky, the other much shorter though much more average in build. They seemed to notice her right away, as they began walking towards her, the flock following. “We’re not buying anything, I hope you know,” the shorter one said as they approached. She was a woman with brown hair, a northern English accent, and was a few years older than her; the taller one was a man with grey hair and a couple extra decades. While they were both pale, he somehow looked as though he hadn’t properly seen sun in ages, which was believable given the amount of layers he was wearing. “I’m not selling,” Bill replied. “I was just cleaning out my mother’s lockbox, and…” “I don’t see why that has anything to do with us,” the man said. Bill was hit hard by the Glasgow in his voice—shit. Oh… shit…

#meme replies #gendervapor #gendervapor14 #I got to hit a spectrum of my work in this one so yeah this was fun #open to more if someone thinks of any

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creativia10 · 11 months

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The Merits of Scientist Lab coats

Logan was preparing how he would want a Crofter's commercial to go, for if he gets the chance to share. Janus comes in while Logan is practicing to flirt with him.

Warnings: suggestive themes

Relationships: Logan/Janus

Wordcount: 1405

Notes: Loceit Week 2023 Day 5 Philosophy/Science (I chose science) Sorry this is late. I don't know if I'll have any more for @loceitweek as I only decided this week to write this one. The topic this week has inspired me though. I may write other Loceit fics, like maybe for the multifandom pride prompts I've been attempting (which will also be late).

Logan looked around at his setup with a nod. It wasn’t much, but it was perfect for what he was going for. Logan had been preparing in his head what kind of commercial he would have proposed for Crofters. If it ever came up that was.

He cleared his throat and smoothed out his lab coat. Logan then waved a hand at the nearby whiteboards to write out what he said. It would look better to be handwritten in real time for the actual thing when he showed the others. This was just for practice though.

He held up the crofters’ jar, presenting it to where he knew the camera would be. Logan had been listing helpful facts about the jam for a minute and a half when he heard someone go,

“Hmm.”

Logan stopped and looked in that direction. He hadn’t thought anyone was in here. To his surprise, Janus was sitting nearby, smirking at him.

Janus clapped.

“What a well-done presentation, Logan. I apologize for interrupting you. It was not my intention.”

Logan frowned at the other, unsure about that. Logan cleared his throat and set the jar of jam off to the side.

“Janus. I did not expect you in here. Did you need something?”

Janus hmmed again and stood up. He stretched languidly, bringing attention to his different outfit of choice. Then he started to walk over to Logan.

“Noo, not necessarily. Perhaps I just wanted to hear you ramble on intelligently about something of interest to you,” Janus said with a smirk.

Logan’s eyes widened. Janus walked closer to Logan, who then coughed to the side. Logan hadn’t expected anyone to actually want to hear him spew facts like that. The others had always acted like it was a necessity that nobody actually liked.

“I-is that so?” Logan cleared his throat again. He was usually so much better at holding his composure than this. Janus had simply caught him off guard by saying so.

“And the outfit?” Logan asked, gesturing to Janus’ new getup.

Janus was wearing a lab coat, like Logan’s own. Except he had a yellow shirt peaking out where Logan’s typical polo was similarly visible. Janus was also wearing safety goggles as well.

Janus hummed again, stepping even closer.

“Maybe I just wanted to match the vibe of your setup, hm? I think the scientist look works, don’t you?” He asked with a playful smirk.

“Ah well, yes. Of course, it works,” Logan started,

“I had the lab coat set up for this scene to show safety was a priority. And how the production of Crofters would be hygienic. Of course, we wouldn’t be near anything that would be a contamination concern anyways, as it is more for the aesthetic of the commercial.”

Janus sighed at that.

“Logan, I’m not doubting the merits of wearing a lab coat here. I know you have good plans for these things,” Janus said.

“You do?” Logan asked.

“Mhmm,” When Janus was close enough, he reached over and started toying with the lapels of Logan’s lab coat.

“I just think the whole scientist look, with the lab coats, works for us. Aesthetically, as you would say. I certainly appreciate intellectual looks,” Janus said with that smooth voice of his.

“O-oh,” Logan said. Janus’ fingers were warm where Logan could feel him brushing against his coat. Amidst messing with the lapels.

Logan found he didn’t mind it, even if it was unexpected. Nobody got this close to him.

Janus leaned in.

“Did you want to keep going? I wouldn’t be opposed to assisting you.” Janus said.

Logan hesitated. He was sufficiently distracted now. Admitting such a thing felt embarrassing though.

“Uh, well,”

“Or did I throw you off your vibe?” Janus asked.

Logan really needed to add that word to his slang vocab. He was hearing it a lot more now.

“I wouldn’t say you threw me off. I am physically right where I was when I started. I also knew I would be presenting this in front of others at some point. Theoretically, I should be fine.”

“Theoretically?” Janus asked with a knowing smile.

“Uh, well,” Logan wasn’t sure what he should say here. Janus hmmed.

“It’s okay if I distracted you, Logan. I am well aware you didn’t expect me to be here,” Janus said.

“How did you know I would be here anyways?” Logan asked.

“I didn’t originally,” Janus continued. “But I was bored and I overheard you as I passed this room amidst my wandering. Figured I could learn something and maybe have some fun. Which I definitely have.”

Janus was smirking again, which e often did.

Logan blinked. “Oh? You were enjoying my presentation?”

“Of course,” Janus said, “Although, I have more fun interacting with you.” Janus paused in his teasing to lightly poke Logan in the chest.

“I-is that so?” Logan asked.

Janus winked at him in response.

“Why are you interacting with me in this way?” Logan asked.

“Because it’s fun, as I said,” Janus continued, “Is that alright?”

“I suppose,” Logan said.

Janus frowned slightly and stepped away.

“Logan, I know you’re not the best at admitting to your wants, but you need to be clear about how you feel about my teasing. It’s no fun if I am actively making you uncomfortable. I get a hard enough time from the others. About whether I actually respect personal boundaries.”

Logan blinked at that.

“Wouldn’t that be more of a concern from Remus than you?” Logan asked. Janus sighed and shrugged. Logan frowned but nodded.

“I see what you are saying. I would not want to make things worse for you.”

“Logan, it’s not about that,” Janus said. “You are not responsible for anything that affects me except your own actions. Which you are fine with at this point by the way. Nothing else should be a factor in stating your boundaries. Aside from what you are comfortable with.”

Logan nodded again. He knew Janus had a point.

“Right, of course.”

But then came the harder part of admitting he didn’t mind Janus’ actions, because what would that mean next?

“It’s okay if you don’t know, Logan,” Janus said with a more genuine smile this time.

“I should have asked earlier anyways. I just like to be playful, you know how I am.”

Logan supposed he did. Although Logan saw this side more when Janus was around Logan now.

Logan took a breath. He was curious though where they could go from here. Logan was definitely one to seek after knowledge. Even in the case that it could affect his personal relationships, though not in a bad way.

“I…did not mind, Janus,” Logan said, not meeting the other’s eyes. He figured he should have at least looked at Janus while admitting so. But it was harder than he expected for some reason. Plus, Logan could feel his cheeks warming.

After a moment, Janus stepped up to Logan again.

“You are sure?” Janus asked.

Logan nodded.

“Yes. I am just…not used to admitting such things.”

Janus hummed again before reaching forward again to trace his fingers against Logan.

“That’s okay, Logan. It can be a process. It does make me wonder if you would prefer moving slower than I had in mind then.”

Logan’s breath caught, and he got himself to look at Janus in the face then. Janus looked back at him.

“I would like to know what you mean, first. And, I’m sorry if my need for clear wording changes the uh ‘mood’ at all, as the twins have told me in the past.”

Janus gave him a soft look at that and shook his head.

“Logan, you are not ruining anything. I know who you are. How do you know I don’t get hot and bothered by more words anyways?”

Logan narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“Hot and bothered? I certainly wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable at all, that doesn’t sound pleasant. Should we get some air in here?”

Janus threw his head back in a laugh. Then he suddenly gripped his fingers around the coat lapels and pulled Logan against him. The breath from Janus’ lips brushed Logan’s own as he said,

“How about we head up to my room and I show you what I really mean by that?” Janus asked.

Logan’s breath stuttered.

“Okay,” Logan choked out.

#sanders sides #loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #loceit week 2023 #sanders sides fic #ts logan #ts janus

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