He's a Creepy Cookie...

This went a little older than toddler and probably a bit angstier than you may have wanted but I hope you still enjoy it? Definitely ends in fluff. 

CW: Allusions to past abuse

Prompt: Bedtime kisses

--

It didn’t start out as kisses.

When Virgil first came to live with Patton, he was a world-weary five-year-old with haunted eyes and a cautious demeanor who immediately broke Patton’s heart.

“It may take some time,” the social worker told him, while Virgil hid behind her leg and stared at Patton anxiously. “He’s been through a lot.”

And it did take time. For the first few weeks, Virgil mostly hid in his room, rarely venturing out other than to use the restroom and come down for dinner when called. He would stuff peas and potatoes and dinner rolls in his pockets and take them back to his room, and for the first few weeks, Patton found himself cleaning old moldy food out of every conceivable nook and cranny.

But he didn’t yell, or tell Virgil to stop. Instead, he started stocking the cabinets and pantry with pre-packaged foods like granola bars, pop tarts, and gummy bears, and made sure Virgil knew he could take as many as he liked whenever he wanted.

If he really thought about it, it probably started with those snacks.

“Virgil,” he said that evening after dinner, as Virgil had started to totter off with a pocket full of garlic bread.

Virgil turned back, wary and startled as a baby rabbit, and Patton had done his very best to stay casual and he’d said, “I bought some new snacks. May I show you?”

Virgil hadn’t responded (he didn’t much in those early days) but he’d approached the cupboard with Patton. Patton had been careful to store the items on the lower shelves, where Virgil could reach. “These are snacks for everyone,” he said. “Whenever you’re hungry, even if it’s not meal time, you can come get some, okay?”

Virgil had indicated he understood, but didn’t reach for any of the items, so Patton had done so for him that first time. “Here,” he said, pulling out a package of veggie chips. “Trade you for that garlic bread?”

Virgil looked abashed, but slowly reached into his pocket, pulling the crumbling pieces of bread from their stashes and handing them wordlessly to Patton. Then he accepted the veggie chips and scampered away. Patton heard his feet thudding on the stairs, then the sound of his door closing, and sighed.

Baby steps.

It became a tradition. At bedtime, Patton would go to the cupboard and open it, perusing the selection of pre-packaged treats. And Virgil would appear at his elbow, waiting to be handed a treat of Patton’s choosing. (He’d tried at first to see if Virgil had a favorite, one he wanted to pick for himself, but Virgil had refused to choose, so Patton had continued to do so for him, trying to select a wide variety so Virgil had something he liked).

The next step in their journey came when Patton told a joke about Oreos, and Virgil had giggled. Patton’s heart had stuttered to a near stop, because that was the first time he’d ever seen the child smile, let alone laugh, and Virgil’s eyes had gotten wide and fearful, waiting to see what the result of his transgression would be.

But Patton had simply laughed too, and said, “I know, I’m pretty funny, huh? I’m working on my stand-up routine. Maybe you can help me out?”

So then the tradition was a snack and a joke. Patton spent the day scouring the internet for age-appropriate ones, everything from knock-knocks to puns (Virgil seemed to like those, and it still amazed Patton how smart he was).

“So Virgil,” Patton said, holding up a bag of gushers. “Why doesn’t the lobster like to share?” Then, as he handed the snack to the waiting child: “Because he’s a little shellfish!”

“Hey Virgil,” Patton waved a bag of fritos in the air. “What did the ocean say to the beach? Nothing! It just waved!”

The first time he tried a knock-knock joke, he was afraid Virgil wouldn’t answer, so when Virgil’s timid voice replied, “Who’s there?” Patton almost dropped the bag of mini chips ahoy chocolate cookies he’d been holding.

“Justin,” Patton said, hoping the tightness in his voice just sounded like anticipation of a good punchline.

“Justin who?”

“Justin time for dessert!” The cookies were presented with a flourish, and the gap-toothed grin and giggle were sweeter than any dessert Patton had ever had.

It did take time, though. The social worker was right about that. And it was six months before the snack-and-joke tradition took on an extra element.

The most rewarding part of it, though, was the fact that it was Virgil himself who initiated the addition.

“So Virgil,” Patton said, rooting through the cabinet--he was certain he’d stashed at least one box of hostess cupcakes in here, and they were Virgil’s favorite-- “Why did the superhero flush the toilet?”

He expected silence, or maybe a soft ‘why?’ Instead, Virgil said, “Because it was his doody.”

And without thinking, Patton turned around and beamed, holding up his hand. “Yeah, high five!”

Virgil shrank away at the sight of the raised open palm, and Patton froze, the smile dropping from his face as he realized what he’d done. But before he could begin to babble apologies--before he’d even had a chance to lower his hand--Virgil squared his shoulders, bit his lip, and lifted his hand, smacking his palm lightly against Patton’s.

So the high-five became part of the tradition. It was the first piece of physical affection Virgil had shown him, or allowed him to show in return, and Patton treasured every single one of them.

It wasn’t the only change. The snacks, which had originally disappeared up the stairs into Virgil’s hidey holes the moment Patton gave them to him, were now sometimes eaten at the kitchen table. The smiles, once so rare, were beginning to make regular appearances. Instead of sitting still and silent, Virgil began sitting...well, like a kid, swinging his feet where they dangled from the kitchen chair or shifting position on the couch during their movie nights.

“Be patient. Let him come to you.”

And he was. Little by little, Virgil was opening up, regarding him with less fear and more curiosity and even--sometimes, perhaps?--hope.

Still, Patton didn’t want to push it. And sure, sometimes Virgil fell asleep leaning against his arm during movies, or took his hand when they were crossing the street, but it didn’t prepare him for the moment Virgil stood at the cupboard for snack time and asked--timidly--if he could tell the joke this time.

“Knock knock,” Virgil said, looking up into the cupboard, at the shelves of snack food, and beyond them, the regular staples.

“Who’s there?” Patton asked obligingly.

Virgil hesitated, then said, “Can o’ peas.”

Patton arched an eyebrow--a knock knock joke he hadn’t heard? “Can o’ peas who?”

Virgil shuffled a little, then swallowed audibly. “Can o’ peas have a goodnight kiss?”

You could’ve knocked Patton over with a feather in that moment. He drew a soft breath and, trying to keep his voice light and casual, said, “But of course! Where would you like it?”

Virgil shrugged, not meeting Patton’s eyes, but Patton didn’t let that deter him. “Hmm. How about...right...here?” he tapped the center of Virgil’s forehead with one finger lightly, and Virgil giggled.

“Okay.”

Patton leaned forward and pressed his first goodnight kiss--light and quick--against Virgil’s forehead. And when Virgil smiled up at him after, he knew his heart was permanently spoken for.

The bedtime tradition didn’t start out as kisses. And it didn’t end with them either, because after that first one, Virgil took it as a given that he would get one every night. And shortly after, he wanted hugs too, and bedtime stories, and to be tucked in--the typical demands of a typical child, and Patton’s broken heart began to heal, hoping that in spite of everything, Virgil would bounce back.

“Children are resilient,” the social worker said, when Patton reported on his progress.

Patton thought there was resilient, and then there was brave beyond all reason, and he thought his little Virgil, his kiddo, was both.

The adoption paperwork was a bit of a hassle, but it was more than worth it. Because there were traditions that, once you had them, you fought to keep them.

It didn’t start with kisses, but as Patton stood in the courtroom with Virgil at his side, as the judge reviewed and finalized the adoption proceedings, Patton was determined to make sure it would continue with them, and with hugs and bedtime stories and as much love as there was to give, for as long as Virgil wanted them.

--

Oh shock look everyone, LJ  wrote another story where Patton ends up adopting Virgil!

If he takes some time to fume before realizing, no, he can smooth everything over if he just pretends he’s absolutely fine - if he can act like his breakdown in the video was a temporary lapse in common sense, like it’s all water under the bridge now that he’s thought it through on his own, then no one will push it. No one will ask him if he’s okay with that wary look in their eyes, no one will act disappointed that his facade crumbled at the worst time, no one will linger on his jeer or Janus’ bite back. It’ll be okay, as long as he can pretend. 

So he does. By the time Patton comes to check on him after the video, he’s scrounged up a smile that’s just the right mix of rueful and hopeful, and he lies through his teeth that he’s fine, he’s sorry he freaked out back there, is Patton alright? What about Thomas? That’s good, he’s glad. Yes, he promises he’s fine- you know him, prone to overreactions and dramatics, nothing out of the ordinary here. And Patton gives a relieved sigh and a small smile, and after a hug that Roman isn’t prepared for, too stiff and brittle and close to breaking again, the moral Side wishes him goodnight and leaves. And Roman realizes this is going to work. 

The look on Patton’s face was equal parts confused and disappointed when he turned around - equal parts, but the disappointment stuck out a little more to Logan, if only because it made him immediately want to backtrack - and blinked. “Why not?” 

And that made Logan want to laugh, almost. (He was a little afraid to laugh lest he inhale an embarrassing amount of flour and go into a coughing fit, which was a distinct possibility considering the haze of white that had settled in the air for the third time since they’d entered the kitchen. Patton was clumsier than Logan remembered. He found he wasn’t too bothered by it, just…exasperated, like how one feels when annoyance is overridden by something more pleasant. Something warmer.) It was an amusing question, of course, because a great majority of the kitchen was covered in flour and cocoa powder, and the shells of cracked-egg attempts, still dripping runny egg whites onto the counter, sat scattered between used bowls and spatulas. To call it a mess would be a kind understatement, and Logan wasn’t one to use understatements, let alone kind ones. 

“Well,” he said slowly, looking around the kitchen in the hopes that Patton would figure it out without him having to say it. “In all honesty, I just, ah… I don’t think I’m quite the right person to help you. This is a bit outside my area of expertise.”

He wasn’t sure if he should be frustrated or relieved that Patton’s disappointment melted into an easy smile. “Of course it is! Baking is just science, Lo, you’re practically made for it!”

“I hardly think Thomas had baking in mind when I was thought into creation, Patton.”

“Hm. Maybe not,” Patton agreed breezily, turning back to mix the bowl of batter cradled in the crook of his elbow. (Logan tried to mimic him earlier, but he only succeeded in nearly spilling an entire bowl of brownie batter onto the floor, so he decided to stick to countertop mixing.) “But still, it’s just chemistry, and you love that!”

Logan stared down at the bowl of lumpy batter before him. He was far, far better at chemistry than baking, he could say that for certain, but… he could see the similarities, to an extent. And Patton was confident in the connection- he was confident in Logan’s ability to make the connection, and Logan, for some reason, didn’t want to let him down. “I… suppose you’re right.” 

“And besides,” Patton continued, his voice newly bright with a brilliant smile, “even if you sucked at baking, we’re doing it together! You don’t have to be good at what you’re doing if you’re doing it with someone you care about.” 

With that, he poured the batter in his bowl into a pan waiting on a nearby counter and put it in the oven, whistling a jaunty tune to himself as he set to cleaning the countertops, oblivious to Logan frozen in his spot.

Something welled up in the logical Side’s chest, warm and pleasant despite its lack of familiarity, at Patton’s words. There was a name for it, he knew. It was on the tip of his tongue - something more than happiness, something like fondness, maybe. But as he slowly set to mixing his batter again, blinking owlishly as he fought a smile, he found that he wasn’t too fixated on titling the feeling. He was content with just feeling it. 

How odd. The baking, the feeling- Patton himself was odd, with his easy smiles and happy whistling and casual sentiment. But Logan rather liked it. 

He had no doubt his batch of brownies would be less than stellar, but he also had no doubt that it was worth an unsightly batch of brownies to spend time with odd, likable Patton. Someone he cared about. 

so there’s Logan Murphy, right. He’s set to be valedictorian at graduation, captain of the academic team, been on the student council for three years prior, well-known around the school for tutoring and such. This is his year to finally be student council president - he’s positive he’s got it on lock, because every senior who knows him knows they don’t have a chance for the position. 

Well, as it turns out, there’s a senior who doesn’t know him. Patton Woodlaw just moved to their east coast city from Florida, and though he’s made a whole gaggle of friends by the time student council campaigning rolls around, he hasn’t acquainted himself with Logan yet; he has posters up the day after the race is announced, completely oblivious to the fact that this is supposed to be Logan’s year to win. It’s supposed to be Logan’s year. 

Logan campaigns harder than he ever imagined he’d need to. He and Patton still don’t talk (other than the forced “good luck” exchange the principal makes them shake on), but Logan notices how Patton hands out cookies to everyone in the cafeteria except for him - Logan isn’t much warmer, of course - and he starts to grow restless as the competition goes on because holy crap Patton has a lot of friends. Like, a lot. Every conversation Logan overhears about the race is in Patton’s favor, and it strikes Logan that he could lose this to some random people-pleaser from Florida. 

Then the results come out, and….not quite. 

They tie. 

I know this is a bit out of character but I really like the idea of a story where Logan is actually the dad who knows what he’s doing, and Patton is just like H E L P

-

“Oh god, it’s crying! What do I do? What do I do?”

“First of all,” Logan said, entering the nursery to find his panicking husband cuddling their wailing baby. “Virgil is a he, not an it. Secondly, you’re holding him wrong.” Logan gently readjusted Patton’s arms. “You have to support his head.”

“Right.. I know that..” Patton said nervously. “May-maybe you could take him for a bit? He likes you better.”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s known us for the exact same amount of time, and he’s barely a week old,” Logan said. “All he likes is sleep and food.”

But he still took Virgil from Patton because his husband was looking rather faint. “Thank you,” Patton said.

“There, there, Virgil,” Logan cooed as he rocked the baby in his arms. “It’s okay.”

The baby’s sob slowly died down to small hiccups and Logan was well aware of Patton watching the both of them. “See? He calms down for you,” Patton said dejectedly. “You’re so much better at this than I am.”

”I’ve just had more experience,” Logan said, which was true; he had nine younger siblings and he had read countless books on parenting as well as taken some classes.

“Yeah,” Patton sighed. “I guess I’ll leave you two alone.”

He started to walk away, and Logan placed the now sleeping Virgil in his crib before grabbing Patton’s arm. “What’s wrong, Patton?”

Patton shrugged. “I just... I’m not helping enough,” he said. “I can’t get him to calm down or stop crying, you barely get any sleep because you’re the only one he responds to, and I feel like I’m never going to get the hang of this when you’re so great at it... Am I a bad dad?”

“Oh, Sunlight, of course you’re not,” Logan said softly. “You’re just not used to it yet, give it some time. No first time parents are perfect, not even me,” he added when Patton opened his mouth to argue. “Virgil’s been with us for five days, and he’s still a person regardless of whether or not he’s a baby, we have to discover who he is and bond with him first.”

“I’m trying, but... I feel useless.”

“You’re not.” Logan said firmly. “Even if I do half the stuff you say I do, you think I could do it without you? If I’m the one holding Virgil up then you’re the one holding me up.”

Patton gave a tiny nod. “I just want him to like me.”

“He will.” Logan said, taking Patton’s hand and squeezing it. “There’s so much you can do that I can’t! Without you there’d be nobody to teach him those terrible puns, or no one to give him those strong hugs, there’d be nobody there to make him feel safe and show him how to find joy in the smallest things.”

“You think so?” Patton said hesitantly.

“You’re the good in this world, Patton,” Logan said. “Virgil is so lucky to have you as his dad.”

Patton leaned forward and kissed him, and Logan could feel the smile on his lips; their embrace was only broken apart by the sound of the baby whimpering behind them.

“You go to bed,” Patton said as Virgil started to fuss again. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Are you sure?”

Patton appeared anxious, but defiant. “Yeah... I’ve got this.”

Title: Exposure Therapy

Word Count: 3281

Summary: If Roman can practice enough scenarios, maybe the inevitable will hurt a little less. Hurt/Comfort Romantic Prinxiety. Ace!Roman.

Warnings: aphobia/internalized aphobia as a central focus, angst/hurt/comfort (heavy on all three), scenarios of rejection, crying, cursing, misunderstanding.

A/N: I wrote this in one sitting. One of those fics that comes from a personal space. An exploration of internalized aphobia—something that I’ve begun to learn does not go away after realizing you are ace. Edited by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine. <3 Love you all.

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff, @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge , @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon

…

Roman stares unseeing at the carpet right in front of Virgil’s sock-clad feet. Most of the lights are off, leaving only the lamp by the couch to cast the room in a soft warm glow. Part of Roman wishes he could turn it off and disappear into the darkness. Anything to avoid the confused, hurt look in Virgil’s eyes that he can feel pressing down on his shoulders.

“You’re ace?” Virgil’s voice seems to echo with disgust.

“I’m sorry, Virgil—” Roman reaches a hand out blindly. Virgil takes a step back.

He shoves his hands harshly into the pocket of his hoodie. “So… So what, you were just leading me on? This entire time? I mean…” He waves an arm. “What the hell, Roman?”

Roman clenches his jaw as his eyes burn. He blinks hard to clear them. “That wasn’t my intention. I just… I was just scared—”

Virgil scoffs. “Scared? Grow up, Princey.”

“Virge, I—”

Virgil is crossing the room and for the briefest second, Roman thinks maybe he’s walking towards him. But the Anxious Side brushes past Roman and starts to head up the stairs. “Save it. I don’t think this is gonna work out.” Then he’s gone. He’s vanished up the stairs and the Prince stands in the Commons alone with the silence until he hears Virgil slam his door shut.

Roman breathes out shakily. He presses a hand to his mouth as it if might steady the air leaving his lungs.

“Again,” he says aloud once he’s sure the word won’t tremble. “The kitchen, this time.”

The scene blurs around him in a swirl of fragmenting color. Roman waits, closing his eyes and bringing clarity to the image in his mind as it takes shape around him. He takes a few slow breaths before he opens his eyes. The kitchen is a perfect recreation of the one in the Mindscape that mirrors Thomas’s apartment.

Inspired by this lovely artwork by @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes

Yes it was in a cartoon-verse. That doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. In which, Virgil just wants to protect Thomas, and he’s sick of being nothing but “the bad guy”.

Words: 300

Warnings: mentions of violence, self-depreciation, bruises

~~~~~~~~~

He punched him. He really punched him.

Sure, he’s always played the bad guy and it was probably inevitable, but it still hurt.

Okay, well now I have to write it.

…………………………………………….

“Guys, can we stop with the yelling? This isn’t helpful.” Roman and Virgil’s fight had left Thomas with an incredible headache, and he couldn’t take another second of it.

“He’s right.” Virgil tugged at his hoodie. “We’re getting nowhere.” 

Something had been off all day; everyone felt it. A beat passed before Virgil could place his unease. “Logan, you haven’t said anything in a while — what do you think?”

It set in that Logan had been uncharacteristically absent from the conversation, and everyone turned to acknowledge him. Logan was standing with one arm folded against his chest and a hand clasped firmly to his mouth.

Roman gasped and drew his sword. “Deceit?” 

Though the others stiffened in preparation, Patton shook his head. He knew Logan best, and this was still his Logan.

“Lo?” The room hushed at the quiet strength in Patton’s sincerity.

Logan had kept his eyes averted until now, fixated hopelessly on the wall’s big picture, but something in Patton’s tone made him look over to meet his safe, familiar gaze. There was a pause of recognition between the two.

“Are you okay?”

That broke him. A quick, barely audible sob escaped Logan’s lips and through his trembling fingers, and the tears came all at once. Logan tightened his arm about his ribs, compressing his lungs and forcing his palm still harder against his mouth. All attempts to steady himself failed. He stood shaking silently while everyone else exchanged looks of confusion and fear. Except for Patton. He was still staring right at Logan, unfaltering and calm. Logan almost laughed at the irony, but instead choked on his frustration.

Each tear scorched his skin in a cruel confirmation that everything he’d worked for, everything he’d tried so hard to be, had been undone. Irreparably. All he’d accomplished lately was hurt the others and fail to serve his one purpose. His glasses fogged, pulling clarity even further from reach, and he clenched his eyes shut. Hand and face were drenched in this horrifying display of vulnerability. 

No one spoke for a long time. Logan swallowed hard and let out all the air he’d been holding. He looked around the room at the faces of the people he’d let down. Then, against his own volition, one thought finally broke through the last of his defenses. “I’m just so… lost.”

Fandom: sanders sides

Pairings: none (familial Dukeceity/anxceitmus)

Word count: 2,404

Warnings: idk, angst? (Let me know if there are others pls!)

‘Summary’: Virgil reveales his past with Deceit and Remus to Thomas and consequently, Logan, Patton and Roman are now aware of this as well. The three core sides react badly to Virgil’s revelation and the comforting he craved so badly doesn’t come from the ones he expected it from.

Inspired by ‘fire drill’ by Melanie Martinez and based on this post:

So this is very quick and messy, but I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless! @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes

Also, i barely checked this, so please excuse grammar and spelling mistakes.

———————————————————

Virgil was nervous. This was, of course, no surprise, given he was the literal embodiment of annxiety. Today, however, he was more anxious than usual. He had recently revealed his history with ‘dark’ sides Remus and Deceit to Thomas. Since they all lived in Thomas’ head, this information was now known to everyone, including his relatively new friends, Roman, Patton and Logan. Virgil figured they might have figured it out a while ago, espically the logical side, but he still somewhat dreaded their reactions. 

Virgil knew in his heart that they probably would accept him. They had to, right? Why else would they go through so much trouble to get him back when he had dissappeared? Why else would they continiously assure him he was welcome, loved even? Because of this, a part of Virgil even longed to see the others. He couldn’t wait till Patton wrapped him in a giant hug, he actually looked forward to the playful nickname Roman would come up with this time and he desperately needed Logan to drown out his anxious thoughts using his logical reasoning, calming nature and soothing voice. 

These desires pushed Virgil to leave his room and seek the others out. He found them in the common area. Patton was seated on the sofa, Roman sat in front of him on the coffee table and Logan stood nearby. They seemed to be engaged in a soft conversation. Virgil took a deep breath and lightened up his features. 

‘Hi guy-’ The rest of the sentence got forcibly pushed back down his throat by the grave looks the others were giving him. A sickness formed in Virgil’s stomach. 

‘Guys?’ Virgil softly tried again, his mind already running wild with the most disastrous outcomes possible of the conversation ahead of him. Opposite of him, Roman cleared his throat. 

‘Anxiety- uh, yes-’ He began. 

‘Anxiety? Come on Princey, you haven’t called me by any of my proper titles since you first took a look at my eyeshadow.’ Virgil nervously said, desperately trying to lift the mood. Roman didn’t answer, causing Virgil to anxiously bite his lip and play with the strings of his hoodie. When no one else took the initiative to speak, Virgil sighed deeply and decided to face his fears head on. 

‘I take it you guys know huh?’ It wasn’t even a question, it was a statement. When Virgil looked up, none of the three in front of him were meeting his eyes. After another unbearable silence, it was Logan who spoke up. 

‘Um yes- it would be correct to state that we are aware of your former acquaintances with the dar- with Remus and Deceit.’ Virgil had never heard the logical side this hesistant or unsure. Virgil searched his eyes for any indication of forgiveness or understanding. When he failed to find any, he turned his gaze to Patton. The representation of Thomas’ heart just turned further away from him and to Virgil’s surprise, Roman adjusted his position in the way that he was now partly blocking Patton from Virgil’s view. Virgil felt a sharp stab in his chest. 

‘So, what’s my verdict?’ Virgil asked with a weak attempt at humour. However, there being a verdict would turn out to be far from a joke.

‘Actually, we think it would be most beneficial for Thomas’ hapiness and overal well-being if things were to return to the way they initially were.’ Logan said. Relief flooded through Virgil until a horrible thought occured to him. 

‘Wait- what do you mean by that?’ He asked. The other three exchanged quick looks before all eyes landed on Logan once again. When the side in question silently shook his head and turned his eyes to the ground, it was Roman who answered. 

‘Well, in essence I suppose it means that we go back to the strict separation between the dark and light sides.’ Suddenly, anger flared up in Virgil.

‘And where have you decided I belong?’ He snapped. Of course he knew the answer, but he wanted them to say it. He wanted them to look him in the eyes and tell him straight to his face that they believed he was too bad to be one of them, or a core side whose input was valued when it came to Thomas for that matter. His question clearly made the others uncomfortable. Logan looked like he made an oath to stare at the ground for the rest of his life and Patton was now almost completely turned away from Virgil.

'Uh, you said it yourself, you’re a dark side.’ Roman answered, his usual confidence was nowhere to be seen.

'I said I was one of them, Remus and Deceit, not the dark sides.’ Virgil growled.

'Given the fact they are dark sides and your previous affirmation stating that you were one of them, it follows that you, yourself, are to be considered a dark side.’ Logan said, still not meeting the axious side’s eyes. He tugged nervously at the top of his neck tie. Virgil’s heart hurted.

'What are you talking about? There are no 'dark’ and 'light’ sides. Those are just stupid terms Roman made up.’ Virgil spat. The expected offended princey noises didn’t come. Instead, the fanciful side swallowed audibly, but further remaind silent. Virgil turned to Logan.

'I thought you said the world wasn’t quite as black and white as that?’ He challenged the logical side. Logan flinched. Virgil’s mind couldn’t quite phantom what was happening.

Suddenly all the fight left Virgil and disappointment and sadness took its place. Virgil realised there was no point in trying anymore. His 'friends’ appeared resolute.

'So you’re condemning me to being an outcast again?’ Virgil asked. At this, Patton’s head shot up.

'Of course not!’ He exclaimed, desperation clear in his voice.

'What would you call this then, Morality?’ Patton was visibly hurt by the way Virgil adressed him. 'What are you gonna say next? “It’s not you, it’s me? I just think it’d be best if we started seeing other people”?’

'Kid- Virgil, we really do think it is in Thomas’ best interest to go back to our old ways. You know how much he struggles with the idea that he’s might not be as good a person as he thinks he is.’ Patton softly said. And wasn’t that just unfair?

'Does Thomas struggle with that, or do you? He asked. Patton shut up at once. Virgil just didn’t understand. Before he revealed his past with Remus and Deceit, no one even considered him being evil. Sure, his (sometimes slightly unrealistic) concerns could cause Thomas some distress, but Virgil always came from a place of love and only aimed to protect their host. Besides, he had gotten better at expressing his worries in a less… insensitive manner. Roman, Patton and Logan knew all of this and Virgil thought they’d actually become friends. So how could they now cut him out completely so easily? How could they just throw away what they had like it was nothing?

'Look, I know that I said I could tolerate Thomas having some darker thoughts from time to time, but that’s the point.’ Patton’s voice shook Virgil out of his spiraling thoughts. 'Remus represents intrustive thoughts. Those only appear every once in a while, but you… you have, like Logan put it, almost always a seat at the table. With you being a dark side, this means Thomas is partly bad at all times. He’s been freaking out about that ever since your confession.’

Logan and Roman nodded along with Patton’s words, indicating that they had also felt the effects of Thomas’ worrying.

'I mean, basically his whole mind is preoccupied with these fears. He can’t seem to focus on anything else, he’s constantly on edge and even logic doesn’t get through to him anymore. His mind is spiralling, sometimes even to the extend of him almost experiencing a panic attack and there’s nothing he can do to get it out of his head, it just isn’t as simple as that. It really is awful.’

Were they- were they explaining anxiety to him? Did they really have the nerve to complain to him about irrational fears that kept them of their work? About worrying to the extend that it affected them physically? About knowing these fears are irrational but being helpless against them nevertheless? About anxities that made getting through the most basic daily tasks seem impossible?- all things Virgil had to go through every day.

'Geez, I can’t imagine how terrible that must be, especially if you have to go through it alone.’ Virgil deadpanned.

The three other realised their mistake simultaneously. At least they had the decency to look ashamed. Logan started playing with his tie again, Roman breathed in sharply and Patton blinked a few times before turning away from Virgil once again.

Full realisation hit Virgil and his heart bled. Tears welled up in his eyes. This was the last time he would be here with them like this. Never again would he feel the warmth of a hug from Patton. Never again would Roman clap him on the back in a friendly gesture and discuss Disney with him. Never again would Logan seek him out to go stargazing when he felt Virgil needed serenity. They couldn’t, not anymore, because that would mean that a dark side was in contact with one of Thomas’ central sides and as a result, Thomas would feel like evil was a principal part of him. He didn’t want that, so they had to cut out every last bit of darkness as best as they could. The worst part was that he didn’t even hate them for it. He’d always love the three in front of him, meaning there would forever be an emptiness in his heart, in his soul. Virgil felt he wouldn’t be able to hold it together for much longer and he decided to take his leave.

Swallowing the enormous lump in his throat, he said: 'I guess that’s it then.’ The others looked like they wanted to say something more, but nothing followed. Virgil took a deep breath and turned to get a good look at them one last time. Lastly, he turned to Logan.

'I guess you lied then.’ Virgil said. Logan looked up, surprised. 'Everything is decideldy not okay.’ Logan took a physical step back, as if stricken, and opened his mouth to contradict the former statement, but Virgil had already sunk out.

Back in his room, Virgil immediately grabbed his headphones to try and blast out the awful things going on in his head. He slowly sank down to the grond against the wall while tears streamed down his face like untamed rivers. As if meditating, he began to continiously whisper the lyrics of the song he was listening to.

“I’ve never fit into any category, always deemed an outcast.”

“You playin’ games with me, tellin’ me you’re for my kind, still you abandon me, calling me words I’m not, paintin’ a picture that’s false.”

Virgil didn’t even notice his door opening or Deceit peeking his head inside and letting out a soft 'O Virgil’, too caught up in his raging feelings. Deceit carefully closed the door behind him and came to sit next to Virgil. He knew no words could console the anxious side, but he hoped his sole presence would let Virgil know that despite their former differences, he still had a family, he still was loved.

“Cryin’ inside 'cause nothin’ I say ever comes out right. We’re on the same side. If I’m honest with you, you just run and hide.”

Remus also entered the room, having sensed the all too familiar pain from miles away. His usual façade was nowhere to be found when he dropped onto the floor on Virgil’s other side. Remus and Deceit didn’t need to wonder what was going on, they knew Virgil far too well. Furthermore, both realised perfectly well that this was not just Virgil’s condemnation, but their own as well. None of them stood a chance at being accepted anymore.

While they sat there in the darkness, Virgil grabbed their hands and held them thight while whispering his song’s lyrics. Deceit uttered the occasional 'I know’ and 'you did your best, it is not your fault’ to Virgil. Remus sat in complete silence, his only movement being his thumb drawing circles on Virgil’s hand in an attempt to calm him down.

This was now, once again, their little family. This is what they called home. This was the place where they were truly accepted. This is what they knew, what they loved and what they would fiercly protect with every fiber of their being.

“I am not the fucked up men. I am not a part of anything that is hateful. Love is seeping out my pores, I don’t hold anger anymore, even for people who hurt and betray me.”

Epilogue:

Roman, Patton, Logan and Thomas would soon become to immensely regret their desicion. All of them missed the anxious side fiercly. They missed his sassiness, his wit and his sincere care. They missed his dark humour, his loyalty and mysteriousness. Hell, they would do anything to hear his afwul pg-13 music again.

They had tried to get him back, but the damage had already been done. Virgil would only show up when he was forcely being summoned. When he was present, he kept his eyes averted and didn’t speak unless directly asked a question. When he did speak, few words exited his mouth. He felt like a stranger and he treated the others as such. What Thomas didn’t know, but the three main sides did, was that whenever one of the dark sides was present, the other two would always be looming around out of view. The dark side family had become very tight-knit and they made sure to watch out and care for one another. If tensions ever ran to high with the light sides, the remaining two sides would immediately step in.

Patton, Roman and Logan watched these developments with pain in their hearts. Virgil had given them a chance and they had messed up.

title: unsteady

word count: 915

summary: Virgil sinks out and tries to deal with the aftermath of what just happened. Immediately follows the “Intrusive Thoughts” episode. 

warnings: angst in droves, spiraling thoughts, negative self-talk, mention of nausea, mention of Deceit, mention of Remus, sanders sides spoilers for “Intrusive Thoughts”, open-ended conclusion. 

A/N: I don’t usually write this much explicitly angsty stuff. Huh. Big shout-out to @randomslasher for their angsty Virgil thoughts that helped me bring some stronger shape/form to this fic. This is probably more a character-study-in-fic-form than a real fic with a plot, but here ya go anyway. 

///

Because I was one of them.

The steady words had come from unsteady lungs. Virgil drags in a breath and lowers himself to the blurring floor littered with piles of clothes and journal pages and Virgil’s self-worth. He can’t erase the look of betrayal that had been scrawled in Thomas’s sunken eyes. The circles under them rivaled Virgil’s own and was a damning conviction of his inadequacy.

I thought that I would be able to… protect you from them.

Some bang up job he’d done. Instead, he’d lashed out against Thomas. Of course he did. Didn’t he always? Thomas was the punching bag that always got hit when Virgil got cornered and started swinging.

A lifetime ago, Thomas used to return the blows; he used to understand Anxiety’s role as something bad and was loud about it. Virgil thinks maybe it was easier then. It’s easier to accept hatred when you’ve known nothing else.

Virgil feels sick.

He wipes at his eyes, pretending he doesn’t notice the smears of black that streaks across his fist. Even when Thomas stopped returning the punches, Virgil still had moments where Thomas got caught in the crosshairs of blind panic. And Thomas… Well, he took the blows like a champ. He met them with acceptance and forgiveness—forgiveness that Virgil didn’t deserve.

But he had pretended to, hadn’t he? He’d convinced everyone that he had earned his “seat at the table”. That he wasn’t so bad, that he meant well, that he wasn’t… Other.

Why should you be held to a different standard than any other Side?

Thomas had asked him that question and Virgil couldn’t lie to him. Not anymore. Not after all the work that Thomas had put in towards being more honest with himself. That was what Thomas wanted. And Virgil would give Thomas anything he wanted, as much as he was able. He couldn’t keep lying. It was only a matter of time before Thomas found out anyway, right? Better to hear it from the mouth of the traitor himself.

At least nobody else would get caught in the blowback of Thomas’s hatred. Virgil could give that much to them.

Because I’m one of them.

And every moment of it had been terrifying. It was the right thing to do—Virgil feels rooted in that conviction even as the rest of him feels untethered—but the right thing has left a hole in Virgil’s chest that he doesn’t know how to fill.

You fit right in, Thomas had told him once. Patton had called him family. Logan had told him he didn’t mind his company. Roman had told him that he makes them better.

And he’d started to hear it so much that a part of him even… believed it himself. That he could somehow be one of them. Virgil had had everything he’d ever wanted. Thomas listened to him. Logan understood him. Roman respected him. Patton supported him. It was more than he’d ever dreamed of. It was more than he could have ever thought to ask for.

He needed them. He needed them so much it scared him sometimes. If Virgil was a tree, then Thomas and Logan and Roman and Patton were the soil, the rain, the sun.

But it had been stupid to think like that. Virgil isn’t a tree. He is a hurricane; powerful, destructive, dark. The sooner Thomas knew that, the safer it would be for Thomas. Even if it was laying bare the parts of himself that Virgil so desperately tried to deny.

Virgil promised to keep Thomas safe, and he’d failed. He’d failed when it was Deceit, twice. He’d failed with Remus. He’d failed, failed, failed. Everywhere he turned, Virgil was one step too late. Thomas was hurting and it was his fault. It had been his fault for far longer than Logan realized.

Thomas hates him again. It had been clear in the recoil when the words had fallen from Virgil’s lips with a weight as heavy as the one in his stomach. He’d felt like he was diving into an icy lake. He just wished his heart was colder, like it had been before, as if it would make it a little easier to manage. As if it would ease the splintering feeling he can feel in his chest, or the rolling in his stomach.

Virgil sniffles and wipes his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie. He stops. His hoodie. The one he’d created to signify for himself the acceptance he’d found in the others. But Thomas’s resentment had been so brutally clear. He hadn’t needed to hear it—Virgil didn’t think he could take that, not when the world was already going blurry and his eyes were stinging—but he deserved every part of it.

Virgil tears himself out of the hoodie blindly and throws it against his closed door. You’ve ruined everything.

He folds his arms over the top of his knees and buries his face into his elbow. He thinks of all the times Thomas smiled at him. The amused quirk of Logan’s eyebrows. Patton’s bright grin. Roman’s soft, sincere earnestness. For him. Because they’d all believed Virgil was good. That he had always been good.

It’s over and you’re never getting it back.

He’d dealt with their resentment before. He had practice shouldering that. Perhaps he could again.

He feel so unsteady without them.

Everything comes to a crashing halt when he hears a soft knock on his door.

Chapter Title: Bunker Underneath the Surface

Summary: If Virgil was told a month ago that events that transpired and led him into meeting Logan and the others, he’d laugh at the absurdity of it. Now it scared how quickly he’d grown to care for these humans. Still he has some fears over staying with them, fears that swirl in his mind when Logan asks for a quick chat between the two.

Pairings: platonic lamp

Chapter Word-Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Vampires, Fear, Panic, Implied Non-Graphic Violence, Blood Mention, Fantasy Racial Discrimination

Previous Chapter | Present | Next Chapter      AO3 LINK

*dusts off this fic* It’s been a while, huh? Massive thanks to @theeternalspace for beta’ing this chapter as always!

I don’t think I mentioned this besides the ao3 tags, but the original plan behind this fic was to include villain!Janus later down the road. It won’t happen until the second half of this fic, and honestly, I’m still deciding if I’m still including that or going a different route, I just wanted to mention that it may be occurring.

 If you don’t want to read content featuring him depicted that way, I understand. With the way the first half of this fic is designed, you can easily read the fic up to the point before villain!Janus might make an appearance and still enjoy it, as there’s basically two different story arcs that occur in this fic :)

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Over the course of the next week, Virgil’s resolve to leave dissipated. It chipped away with Patton’s humming as he mixed together ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. It splintered as Roman sauntered into the kitchen and swept Patton into an impromptu waltz. It fell apart as Logan tried to maintain a steady gaze on his physics book but the curve of his lips told Virgil he was amused by the others’ antics.

He’d never experienced such a warm, loving environment. He didn’t know they existed outside of fiction. If Virgil was told a month ago of the events that would transpire, he’d laugh at the absurdity of it all. Now it scared how quickly he’d grown to care for these humans.

In the stormy bleak world he’d grown up and lived in, it was every person for themselves. His foster parents took care of him simply for the money involved. His teachers could care less if he, a vampire, passed or failed. The one person he’d considered a friend only used him for their own gain in the end.

It’d been better to cease social interactions altogether. What was the point of subjecting himself to it when it always resulted in a negative outcome? After all, the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.

Virgil was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. Or at least, he was smart enough to recognize it wasn’t worth it. Any other person might’ve gone the other extreme. They might’ve done whatever they pleased, regardless of what everyone else thought. They might’ve become what others expected them to be, because there was no other designated role in society for them.

Virgil refused. The last thing he wanted was to prove that the prejudices against vampires were valid. But again, he wasn’t stupid. He was just one person fighting an ocean of bigotry. Everyone knows you can’t fight the ocean because it does whatever its damn well pleases.

p 2 just like a little tiny fic that people do but like in a harry potter au?

Writing a fanfic in order to procrastinate writing another fanfic?

Yeah, that sounds like me.

No warnings I can think of. Let me know if I should add some. Forgive me for putting Virgil in a house. I’ve already written a fic about him being a squib and I wanna see our witch boy be a witch.

Tip Jar

1,791 words.

OKAY this is a weird fic based on canon sides meeting fanon selves based off this tumblr post here: https://the-blue-recluse.tumblr.com/post/620029613005012992/the-sides-are-lost-they-find-themselfes-in-a

DLAMPR (no remrom though, like theyre all together but roman and remus arent romantically involved… listen its a complicated thing meant to represent all the relationships in fanon so… its weird._)

Summary: The canon sides meet their fanon selves

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sympathetic deceit and remus. remus being disgusting because its fucking remus.

Can’t stop writing me some soft Roman and Virgil!

He was stupid. This was so, so stupid. What was he even doing here, hand hovering over the door, poised to knock, if he could just steel himself enough to knock…

He bit back a growl of frustration at his own cowardice. It felt like butterflies gnawing at his stomach, crawling up his throat, buzzing in a panic in his head, making his shoulders hunch higher. It was the fear of the dark of a child, the fear of the monsters under the bed, the fear of everything and nothing, the fear of the unknowns.

Because what if it hadn’t been a simple nightmare? What if it had really happened and he’d sunk back to his room and cried himself to sleep and everything being fine and perfect and normal was the dream? What if he knocked, and was met with cold, icy eyes?

What if Roman did as threatened and ran him through before he could say a word?

What if Patton told him, so gently it was cruel, that he was a nuisance, a bother?

What if Logan produced his journal, filled with reason upon cold, undeniable reason, that he was simply a hindrance?

What if they were right?

He couldn’t, couldn’t face them. He should just go back to his room and wait for one of them to come looking. If they came looking then it hadn’t been real, but he could not stand to face them if it had been.

He didn’t know why it was Roman’s door, he was hovering outside of. Perhaps because the prince was always so blunt. He would know, immediately, with Roman. Maybe it was because he couldn’t take anymore gentle devastation from Patton, any more pure evidence of his detriment from Logan. Maybe because he hoped to god even if it was real, that Roman would somehow pity him enough to let him in anyway, before sending him away for good.

He bit his lip, hand shaking. Do it, just do it, why was this so hard? The longer he waited, the worse it got, the gnawing becoming a pit becoming a black hole in his stomach and he was just about to shuffle away when the door opened, revealing a yawning, bleary eyed Roman.

He froze, fear and hope and shame welling in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Then Roman spoke.

“I thought I heard you out on patrol, Stormy Knight. Wandering the halls so early?”

He burst into tears.

Summary: When Thomas has an allergic reaction, Virgil’s anxiety gets stuck on high-alert. Will he have to face it alone?Hello! Despite how the summary makes it sound, this is actually a fic for Roman Creativity Sander’s birthday! Happy birthday to the dramatic, passionate Side that inspires Thomas and keeps him going!

A/N: If you like this please reblog. It is the only way for this writing to reach a wider audience. Tumblr ate most of my fics that I know I posted here, which makes me very sad for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being that the love and comments and tags that folks showed this fic is gone into the ether.

TW: Minor allergic reaction, anxiety, feeling of breathlessness that comes from anxiety. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 1741

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Summary: YouTube viewers are getting a little too good at theorizing. Virgil’s certain that once his famILY learns of his past, they’ll force him to go back.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience. Tumblr ate most of my fics that I know I posted here, which makes me very sad for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being that the love and comments and tags that folks showed this fic is gone into the ether. I’ll be making a masterlist to help prevent this from happening again.

TW: Deceit mention, description of panic attacks up to passing out, some negative self-talk. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 1767

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!