Roman and Virgil were uncomfortable. They were in the common room just minding their own business when all of a sudden Logan and Patton started to speak to each other in a different language. Roman and Virgil knew it was French.
Roman thought he could handle their ‘cute talk’, but honestly, he couldn’t. Yeah, he was the Romantic side out of all of them, but too much romance can really get to you.
“Mi amore? Can we go to my room?” Roman asked his love, Virgil. Virgil looked over at Logan and Patton to see them nuzzling noses together. He almost gagged at the sight.
“Sure,” Virgil said and they both sunk down.
“Hm?” Patton hummed and looked around. “Where did Roman and Virgil go?”
Patton was walking down the hall when he heard Roman yelling at Logan. Logan wasn’t really yelling back, so maybe he was annoyed. Patton walked to the kitchen entrance.
“What happened?” Patton asked. Roman pointed down at something. Patton looked down and gasped. “A baby!?”
“It’s Virg-” Roman got cut off by Patton pushing the both of them out the way. He kneeled down and cooed at Virgil.
“Well, aren’t you a cutie, yes you are.” Patton booped Virgil on the nose. Virgil giggled. “Anyways, what happened to Virgil?”
“It was Logan’s doing!” Roman yelled and glared at Logan. Logan just crossed his arms.
“It was an accident,” Logan said.
“He left one of his potions out and Virgil accidentally drank it,” Roman explained. “Which would explain why there’s a pink liquid everywhere.”
“I also must’ve done the experiment wrong…” Logan muttered.
“That’s all you care about!? Virgil is stuck like this!”
“No, he isn’t. There’s a way to reverse the effect. I just need a little time to figure it out.”
“Alright, Logan. You figure things out, I’m going to find this little cutie some clothes that fit him.” Patton picked up Virgil in his hoodie that was now too big for him. “Roman, you tell Deceit, Honesty, Remy, Emile, Rebel and Remus what’s going on.”
“Why my brother?” Roman asked.
“Because.” Patton shrugged and looked at Logan. “I believe you can do it, Logan.”
Patton smiled at him and sunk down. Logan’s face grew warm.
“Are you okay, nerd?” Roman asked.
“I’m FiNe!” Logan’s voice cracked. He coughed and walked away.
“Right…”
~~~~~~~~~~
Everyone was gathered in the common room, waiting for Patton to show up. Logan was reading a book about potions. Then Patton rose up with a baby Virgil wearing a cat hoodie and ripped jeans. He had eyeshadow on, but it looked a bit messy. Virgil was giving Patton a look of displeasure.
“What? I don’t do eyeshadow, especially when it’s under your eyes…” Patton muttered to him and gave him an awkward smile. Virgil just glared at him and noticed the others. Emile and Honesty were trying hard not to squeal.
“Why is there a baby here?” Emile asked and stood up. He walked over to Patton and the mysterious baby. Honesty joined him.
“It’s Virgil.” Patton smiled.
“What? What happened to him?” Honesty asked.
“He accidentally drank a potion.”
Everyone looked at Logan. Logan just kept reading, but he felt the eyes of everyone burn his skin, especially Roman’s.
“Alright, is there a way to turn him back?” Remy asked and stood up.
“Of course, that’s why Logan is reading,” Patton said.
Then Remus, Deceit, and Rebel stood up and walked over.
“Oh, wow… he’s adorable,” Remus said and Virgil hissed at the three of them. “Oh, still feisty I see.”
Patton backed away from the three of them, unsure whether he could trust them around Virgil.
“What? It’s not like we’ll hurt him…” Rebel said. Deceit looked at him, Rebel glared at Deceit. Deceit stayed silent.
“I still don’t trust you guys around Virgil,” Patton said. “You three will not be around Virgil, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes…” The three muttered.
“Good, now Roman… I need you to look after Virgil for a while. I have to do something.” Patton looked over at Roman. Then Virgil sunk down out of Patton’s arms. “What the-!?”
Virgil rose up on the couch next to Logan.
“LoLo!” Virgil yelled and pointed to Logan. Logan looked at Virgil, surprisingly.
“You want Logan to look after you?” Patton asked. Virgil nodded. “Logan?”
“I… guess I have time.” Logan flushed.
“Alright, I guess that’s fine. Don’t let him out of your sight.”
What’s this? A rewrite of @askmonstersides‘s AU? Why, yes. Yes it is. I rewrote it mostly because I needed to add some key details and some ships… I’ll put the ships in the tags and I hope you guys enjoy! I don’t think permission expires, right? They gave me permission, so… I would hope that it doesn’t expire…
AU Summary:A fall. A single fall. It may seem like nothing until it’s all consuming. What happens when the doctors struggle to diagnosis the disease responsible for Virgil’s rapid deterioration?
Characters: Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan.
Pairings: Moxiety and Logince.
Word Count:1830
Warnings: Swearing, death, and speaking about it (not main character death).
“What Roman!” Logan snapped, whipping his head Roman’s way. Sweat dripped down his brow as he kept pressing the heel of his interlocked fingers down.
“He’s been down forty-three minutes,” Roman said softly, fingers latching onto Logan’s arm.
To his dismay, Logan roughly shook off his grasp. Nothing was working; the defibrillator atop the crash cart had done nothing to restart the child’s choked heart.
Training his jaded eyes back onto the monitor, Logan watched on as the desperate pressing of his hands forged fleeting peaks. Ceasing again, Logan rattled his fist, his nails digging gratingly into his sweaty palm. And the crests were rapidly replaced with the shrill of the flatline buzz.
‘Fuck,’ he cursed under his breath, disregarding the throbbing ache in his arms and the sticky feeling of sweat hugging his skin as he began compressions again. The line of nurses waiting to take over had dwindled. And instead, tired eyes watched Logan’s adamant refusal.
“Logan,” Roman hesitated to reach out a second time, but the larger the crowd of patients that framed them, the faster he knew he needed to bring it to an end, “Lo, you need to stop.”
“People have come back after having been down for longer,” Logan countered, rhythm faltering and voice strained.
“Lo.., he’s been deprived of oxygen for too long.”
LoganknewRoman was right. The longer the brain was deprived of oxygen, the worse the damage would be. Logically, he should stop. He should stop. What he was doing defied logic. But reason, faulty or not, told him that there was a chance; he’d seen it happen before. So, no, he can’t stop from pressing the heel of his palm down. He-
“Stop, Logan,” Roman firmly grabbed Logan’s sweat-slicked arm, dragging him off the patient and onto the tile floor.
“No-,” Logan spat coldly, trying to tug his arm free from the attending pulling him away, but that didn’t halt Roman from tugging him further as the monitor shrieked out a dying cry. It screeched at him, wailed at him, and squawked at him. And he wilted. He wilted hearing the shattering whine of the flatline. And he stopped fighting. He slumped, watching the nurses’ unplug the heart monitor; the call of the monitor vanishing like ships crossing the Bermuda triangle. Absent was the rise and fall of the child’s chest, and absent was the reassuring beep. Instead, reassurance was replaced by machine wheels being dragged away along scratched floors.
Teal lips and muted, cold skin glaring at him from the corner of his eye sunk their teeth sharply into his memory. But what had, had tears springing into the corners of his eyes was the withered flower visage, the sagged shoulders, and the child’s arms limp at his sides. It was seeing them shelter the child in a flimsy, white sheet that caused Logan to truly depress.
“F-Fuck off, Ro,” Logan shook, finally yanking his arm free. Stumbling, he turned, wiping away the tears before anyone could see them leave wet trails in their wake.
“Logan-”
Logan cleared his throat, shifting, and abruptly cutting off Roman.
“The beta-blockers should have worked,” He, then, said all too controlled, fists clenched and watching on stiffly like a switch had been flipped. The Propranolol should have worked. Why hadn’t it worked?
“I know, Lo,” Roman frowned with unease, guiding them both down the achromatic hallway. He’d never observed Logan as anything other than the stoic, calculating logicistian he so frequently gloated on being… “You know you didn’t do anything wrong, right?” Roman watched the other scrunch up his nose as if he’d been asked to try escargot.
“The facts would seem to suggest otherwise,” Logan scoffed under his breath.
“I know you know that sometimes people can’t be saved,” Roman opted to use logic against him as he ushered him through the mess room’s ajar door.
“I’m aware.”
“Then you’d know it wasn’t your fault. Sometimes we just lose patients,” Roman said, shutting the door and steering Logan’s stiff frame to sit on the mattress beside him.
“Yes, well-” Logan muttered, peeling away from the look Roman offered children to comfort them through a particularly painful injection, “Ihaven’t.”
“Never?”
“That is what I said.”
When Roman fell silent, Logan glanced back at Roman to see his mouth curled downward like a bad omen. He was about to speak up when Roman suddenly interjected, “Do you know why I went into pediatrics?”
“You’re too exuberant and animated for any other field,” Logan joked jadedly, scooting back further onto the bed, the mattress faintly creaking underneath him as he did so.
“No- well, it does help with dealing with children, but no, that’s not the reason,” Roman shook his head, a choked laugh caught in the back of his throat.
“Why then?”
He’d piqued Logan’s interest, but Roman had fallen silent a second time - two times too many. For a man that was so boisterous and noisy at every possible opportunity, him sitting there with his hands resting limply in his lap was unnerving. It was far from the childlike energy he typically exuded.
“…Roman?”
“In my third year of med school.., I was assigned a pediatric oncology rotation-”
“I do remember you mentioning that quite a few times. It would appear it had an impact on you.”
“Yes…,” He wasn’t past the point of return, but in a moment of trust he proceeded, “but I’ve never told you about Layla.”
“Layla?”
“She was the bravest princess,” Roman smiled ruefully, head lolling forward slightly, “She adored my marvelous story telling; her favorite tale was the battle of the dragon witch and the strong, fearless princess!”
Pausing to collect himself as history painfully nudged its way into the present, Roman continued, “Oh, Lo, if only you could have seen the dreams reflecting in her eyes and the way she lit up every room with her contagious smiles.”
“More contagious than dear Patton’s!” Roman’s fragile smile straddled the edge of sinking again as his fingertips swiped away new tears over old memories.
“What happened to Layla, Roman?”
“She had acute myelogenous leukemia…,” he let out a shaky sigh as he reached into the past to tug those memories looser. Memories of Layla were fragile treasures, priceless glimpses of hope. Memories of her enacting a battle with Roman and striking him with a foam sword before she was too sick to get out of bed weren’t allowed to simply fade away. Those memories once left his heart mangled and weeping. But memories of Layla going wide-eyed as Roman spoke frivolously of the adventures of Princess Fiona and of Layla giggling wildly as Roman’s attending poked fun at him sprung forward with dizzying speed; short, happy time capsules of history nestled in Roman’s mind.
“She was nine, Lo, and I blamed myself. I was the one that encouraged the transplant.”
“But you know what?” Roman continued, drying his downcast eyes with his white sleeve, “she helped me; her story shaped mine.”
When Logan didn’t say anything, Roman resumed, his voice freckled with an incurable ache, “There was a time when I tried to shake the memories because it hurt. It pained me too much, but it was Layla that made me fight for pediatrics.”
And a silence fell over them.
“I- I.. I don’t know what to say.”
“Lo, what I’m trying to tell you is that we can’t save everybody no matter how hard we try, and I know you won’t admit how much it’s eating at you and how much it’ll eat at you because ‘it defies logic’, but I want you to get it into your brainiac head of yours that you’re not alone.”
Glancing over at Roman, Logan saw the fences torn down by the man himself, “I- Thank you, Roman.”
——-
“Ye- yes, Patton,” Logan nodded quickly, interrupting Patton’s distressed rambling, and eyeing the way Roman disappeared back into the E.R., “I am fine. It was just a moment of weakness.”
“Having emotions isn’t a weakness.”
“Emotions are messy and unpredictable and precarious.” Emotions were far from the safe clutches of reasoning and deduction; emotions just weren’t Logan’s thing.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty or view having feelings as a weakness,” Patton set the fact free from its fetters, “sure, sometimes, your feelings may not make sense, but it’s not your feelings job to make sense. You just… experience them. And you have to do your best to deal with them.”
Logan stopped, pondered even, only to recycle pages of his own inadequate words and cycle through dozens more he wouldn’t share.
“Yeah?” Patton cocked his head, picking up again, “understanding them and being in touch with them can give us a better outlook on our issues and our situations. And by understanding how they influence us, we can better evaluate ourselves.” He could tell he was starting to sway Logan, but Logan had long ago cocooned himself in the safety of rationality.
“Have you heard of Antonio Damasio?” Patton pursued changing Logan’s mind like he chased after a second cookie.
Logan shook his head.
“Well, Antonio Damasio noticed that when his patients lost the part of the brain that controlled emotions, the patients’ decision making abilities became very poor. So, where would we be if we didn’t have the emotional side of our brains?”
“Huh…” Logan furrowed his brow, eyeing Patton incredulously, “you seem to make a sound argument, Patton.”
“Hmm….,” after another wordless moment of careful contemplation, Logan spoke up again, “it would seem you are.. right, Patton.” Patton was right? What..? Patton was right…
“Oh my juice! Really?” His spirit danced with reason to celebrate, lips stretched into a shocked grin.
“…Yes,” Logan admitted, though he much preferred not having to say it a second time. It was like pulling teeth to hear him verbally acknowledge when he was wrong, but maybe that’s what made it so astonishing to hear.
“Come ‘ere, hug time!”
“Fine..” Logan grumbled, letting Patton wrap his arms tightly around him, his own limbs trapped underneath the sweet sunshine’s arms circling his torso.
“Just know that I’m here for you, Lo,” Patton squeezed, looking up at Logan before letting go. He knew Logan didn’t particularly enjoy long hugs even if they were from him.
“Thank you, Patton.”
“Now, how about we go get a nice warm cup of hot cocoa?”
“That would be satisfactory.”
“Yay! Let’s g- Oh-” Patton started and then stopped, cogs turning before setting his own universe back in motion, “maybe I should see if Virgil’s up first? You did say you wanted me to keep an eye on him. Last time I checked in on him it was three ish?”
“That’s right,” Logan said, waving his hand, “go ahead, Patton, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”
“Okay! I’ll be right behind you!” Patton leapt into motion with a pep in his step. He’d done good.
AU Summary:A fall. A single fall. It may seem like nothing until it’s all consuming. What happens when the doctors struggle to diagnosis the disease responsible for Virgil’s rapid deterioration?
Characters:Virgil, Logan, Patton, Roman, and very brief mention of Sympathetic!Deceit and Remy.
Pairings: Logince & Moxiety
Warnings:Discussion of anatomy and very brief, sympathetic deceit.
Virgil’s fingers curled around the stiff fabric resting in his palms as he meandered towards the white door frame. Twisting the iron knob as he went and shutting the heavy door behind him, Virgil pressed his back against the wooden plank, eyes fixed on the gown in his tight clutch.
One breath. Two breaths. By the third breath, Virgil had rested the white fabric across the sink’s rounded edge before slowly discarding his ebony attire beside the gown. With his attire stowed precariously on the sink, Virgil reached for the dotted, white hospital gown.
With the loose-fitted gown lightly brushing against his knees, Virgil noticed an abrupt tremble in his hands. To steady his shaking grasp, he clung to the upper edges of the bathroom sink as his gaze became transfixed on the mirror. His scanning eyes discerned the dangling of his bangs over charcoal eye shadow, his lips curled into a pout, and the oscillatory movements of his hands.
Grumbling, he let his grip falter from the sink and head hang low. He needed a moment. He needed a moment before seizing his clothes and emerging into his hospital suite. Frowning, Virgil shifted as his fingers trembled above the door knob. Twisting the knob and letting the door creak open meant that there really was something wrong with him.
“Mr. Poole?” A soft knock vibrated against the wooden frame.
“Oh- uh, yeah. Sorry,” snapping out of it, Virgil yanked open the door.
“I was going to assess some of your motor and sensory skills,” Logan allowed Virgil to pass him and perch cross-legged on the bed’s edge, but Virgil’s twitchy hands didn’t allude him.
“Go ahead, doc.”
“I’m going to start by testing your reflexes with a patellar reflex test, but I’m going to need you to situate your legs so that they’re dangling over the edge of the bed,” Logan slid his fingers into a set of thin, cyan gloves.
Virgil huffed, untangling his legs, and letting his feet hang.
With gloved digits, Logan skimmed his cold fingertips across Virgil’s lower leg in search for the band of tissue extending down from the patella. A few more calculating touches under Virgil’s shin, and Logan identified the patellar tendon and femoral nerve. And with a short reflex hammer, Logan struck the tendon…. Virgil’s muscles convulsed.
“Clonus,” Logan noted, scribbling the result onto a plastic clipboard in raven ink, “let’s try testing your musculocutaneous nerve.”
“Could you flex at the elbow for me?” Logan requested as a means to identify Virgil’s bicep tendon.
Virgil nodded, complying as Logan watched and palpated the antecubital fossa.
“You can relax your arm now,” Logan attentively took Virgil’s arm into his grasp with his thumb over the tendon to strike with the reflex hammer. Again, more contractions.
“Is that normal?” Virgil wore a half-frown.
“Well, no-,” Logan paused, laying his pen across his clipboard, “a normal reaction generates an easily observed shortening of the muscle. In your case, your muscles repetitively shortened after a single stimulation, which suggests that a pathologic process is affecting peripheral nerves that results in a reflex that is abnormal.”
“…huh?”
“Your muscles convulsed, which suggests there is condition affecting your nerves, but with hand tremors present, that was to be expected.”
“Any idea what it is yet?”
“Without more testing it’s hard to say, but I postulate the issue lies within your upper motor neurons. These are the neurons that carry motor information down the spinal cord to the lower motor neurons. The information that is sent from these neurons to the lower motor neurons signals muscles to contract, thus they are the source of voluntary movement. Increased muscle tone, reflexes, and weakness would all point to lesions on your upper motor neurons, but without more testing, we cannot be sure.”
“I see.”
“Speaking of such testing, I’m going to begin evaluating your muscle tone and then your gait.”
Virgil nodded, glance cast to the side.
“To start, I’m going to need you to relax for me again,” Logan clinically solicited.
To begin testing Virgil’s upper extremity muscle tone, Logan passively rolled the joints in Virgil’s wrist and upper arm to test for rigidity. Finding some resistance, Logan apacely scrawled it onto Virgil’s charts.
“Could you lie flat on your back now?”
“Uh, sure,” Virgil swung his legs over the mattress as he slanted back.
“Now, I’m going to need you to relax,” Logan repeated, pressing his palm above Virgil’s bare ankle. Moving to Virgil’s lower leg, Logan slipped his palm under his patient’s relaxed knee to suddenly bend the shin to test lower extremity muscle tone. More resistance.
“Hmm,” Logan nodded mostly to himself, “to test your gait, I’m going to need you to walk away from me and then back towards me.”
“Okay..,” Virgil sat up, shifting his frame so his feet brushed against the tile floor.
Planting his feet on the ground, Virgil strolled from the bed to the farthest wall before ambling back in the direction of the doctor. And during this process, Logan took note of Virgil’s stance, stability, and leg stiffness. He watched Virgil’s leg swings and arm swings observantly. His eyes inspected Virgil’s degree of knee bending and his rate and speed only to note a decreased left arm swing.
“Unsteady gait,” Logan jotted down.
“I take it that’s bad?” Virgil plopped back onto the bed, picking at his black nail polish.
“It just means a walking abnormality is present.”
“And?”
“And that could be caused by underlying conditions or injuries.”
“Does that mean it could be something like Parkinson’s disease?” Virgil’s heart rate quickened.
“It’s possible,” Logan admitted, “but we just can’t be sure with the little testing we’ve done.”
“My blood test can help though, right? That’s what you said earlier.”
“It’ll help us determine a diagnosis, but it’s likely the storm will delay it a couple days,” Logan glanced at Virgil apologetically, but it came off mechanically, “Anyhow, it seems optimal to take a short break from testing now.”
Collecting up his clipboard, Logan stood in the door frame, “And in the meantime, a nurse will periodically check up on you.”
“Okay…,” Virgil sighed.
With Virgil taken care of, Logan strode down the long, achromatic hallway with his clipboard pressed up against his chest and his framed eyes fixed on the nurse’s station. His shoes squeaking against newly polished floors captured the attention of patients and doctors alike. And as he passed Dr. Whittaker reviewing a patient’s extensive charts, Logan offered him a polite smile.
Now standing over the cubed nurse’s station, Logan watched as Patton’s fingers built a bridge between words, “Salutations, Patton.”
Tearing his gaze from the new monitor, Patton grinned, “Hello, Logan.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could check up on Virgil Poole for me before your shift ends in a couple hours. Maybe take a neurological history for me?” Logan didn’t waste time with idle chatter.
“Sure thing,” Patton’s eyes and nose crinkled, “I’ll pay him a visit.”
“Thanks Pat- …Oh, Great,” Logan frowned, turning on his heel at the mere sight of Dr. Wilson’s poised approach.
“Trying to avoid me, spectacles?” Dr. Wilson tsk’d.
“Attempting to,” Logan muttered under his breath.
Feigning an offended gasp, Dr. Wilson placed his palm over his chest.
“But you adore our little chats, Lo,” he purred, inching close enough to Logan to count the careless stippling of freckles across his cheeks.
“How are you, Roman?” Patton kindly interjected, fingers resting atop black keys.
Flustered, Logan glanced down and away. He didn’t deny it.
“Much better now that Lo’s back,” Roman grinned wide like a Cheshire cat.
“I was only gone a week.”
“And a terrible week it was.”
—
Virgil peered out the frosted-over window through slats in the flimsy blinds, watching as specks of snow colored the road in ivory as the chilly air of the ceiling vent caressed his exposed skin.
“Mr. Poole?”
Virgil exhaled, shifting on the mattress to face the doorway, “more testing?”
“Just here to collect a neurological history if that’s alright,” one of Patton’s palms rested against the door frame while the other seized a clipboard.
“Go ahead, I guess,” Virgil raised his downcast eyes and shrugged slightly.
“I can come back later,” instantly noticing Virgil’s hunched posture, Patton shifted his feet to retreat.
“No- it’s fine. Ask away,” Virgil peered up before picking again at the remaining flecks of nail polish clinging to his nails.
“Okay..,” Patton reluctantly stepped into the darkened room, brows knitted into a frown, “Do you have a history of head injury or seizures?”
“Have you ever had surgery involving the nervous system?” Patton continued, pen tip pressed against papers shoved under the board’s metal clip.
“No.”
“Have you ever been treated for a neurological problem?”
Another ‘no.’
“Have you ever had a serious injury?”
“If it matters, I broke my leg when I was nine,” Virgil rested his head in his now unbusy palm, gaze flitted to his crossed legs.
“How were you treated?” Patton momentarily glanced up from the charts.
“The doc had me wear a cast and use crutches for six weeks,” Virgil shrugged. He had been sketching - sketching wolves and bluishly radiant moons in the aged tree flourishing by his hinged, bedside window when he fractured his femur. Dropping his pen from the branch had sealed Virgil’s destiny as his balance departed with his attempt to capture it.
“Do you have any residual effects from breaking your leg?”
“..No.”
Another scribble from Patton.
“Do you have any other medical problems?”
“Uh,” Virgil paused hesitantly, peering up to inspect Patton’s expression, “…anxiety.”
“What about prescriptions?” Patton inquired, tilting his head, “are you currently taking any prescribed or over the counter medications?”
“No.”
Sighing, Patton scrawled the same answer in black pen on Virgil’s messy charts, “Could you tell me about your family’s medical history?”
“Dad died of a heart attack and mom’s out of the picture,” Virgil huffed bluntly, shrugging with his eyes.
“Any brothers, sisters, or cousins?” Patton donned a half-frown.
“Nope, no, and no,” Virgil mumbled, missing the distraction that unwinding the threads of his coal-colored hoodie brought him.
“Aunts? Uncles?”
“Not that I know about.”
“Oh..,” Patton frowned.
“That all you need?” Virgil cleared his throat.
“Uh-,” Snapping out of his haze, Patton replied, “yeah.”
“That’s all I need,” He quickly clarified, rubbing the back of his neck.
As Patton turned on his heel to leave, his steps faltered. He was incapable of halting his thoughts from sprinting painfully back in time to Remy. Shaking his head, Patton stopped in his footsteps and shifted to face Virgil, “Do you, uh, have anyone that will visit you? ”
“What?” Virgil tilted his head, shoulders visibly slumping once he processed the question.
Patton knew it wasn’t his right to pry, but he asked anyway.
“I’m sorry,” Patton rapidly backtracked, “I- I really shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s whatever,” Virgil huffed, looking at his bare nails.
“I could come and check up on you occasionally if you’d like,” Patton rushed through his words.
“Uh-,” Virgil angled his head, unsure of what to make of the offer, “…sure.”
Love Letter from a Scientist - Sanders Sides Edition Music and Video:@chandra on YT, @chandra-music on soundcloud Poem:@mccoyquialisms Art: Yours Truly
hey y’all! A fellow TS fan (@chandra) was kind and talented enough to compose a charming tune to go along with an old comic of mine. please give it a listen :)
Here’s your casual reminder that tagging Sanders Sides content with the “ss” tag or using that acronym in posts is a… bad idea. If you want to use an abbreaviation instead of the full name #tssor#ssides should be fine :>
I still see people doing that from time to time - mostly, because they don’t know it might be upsetting for other users - so I wanted to make more fans aware.
(I’ll gladly explain why it’s wrong, if someone doesn’t know, but I don’t really want to put that information in the original post so it doesn’t attract people who are into this kind of stuff… I can make it more clear in the notes.)
[I don’t like asking for reblogs, but it’d be nice if more people learnt about it.]
My take on the sanders sides as regular humans (instead of parts of thomas’ personality)
I hope you guys enjoy this version of them <33
also if any of you have ideas for short comics (or incorrect quotes) feel free to send them or reblog them with this drawing because I would love to draw them more :))
[ID: Eight drawings with screenshots of the corresponding requests above them. They are drawn in the same style with white backgrounds.
The first shows Janus and Patton. Janus is wrapped in a grey and white blanket. He sits on Patton’s lap. Patton rests his chin on Janus’ shoulder. Patton is smiling with his eyes closed, and Janus is smiling and looking at him.
The second shows Patton and Logan. Logan’s hand rests on a book he has closed. Patton’s hand covers Logan’s. They are kissing with their eyes closed.
The third shows Roman and Janus. They are leaning on opposite sides of a table. Janus has one hand by his cheek. In front of them is a large chocolate-vanilla milkshake in a glass. They are both sipping from it with black straws. Their foreheads are close, and they are looking at each other.
The fourth shows Roman and Logan. They stand in front of a stove, where a pot of red jam is steaming. Roman has his hands around Logan’s waist. Logan is holding a spoon and giving Roman a taste of the jam. Logan is looking fondly at Roman.
The fifth shows two chibi drawings of Virgil and Logan, followed by a full-size drawing. In the first two panels, Logan and Virgil sit on the couch. Logan touches Logan’s hand, and Virgil turns bright red. The full drawing shows them sitting together with their hands entangled. They are listening to music with the same pair of earbuds, one in each ear. The string meets between them. Virgil is blushing and looking away, and Logan is smiling,
The sixth shows Remus and Janus. They are dancing. Remus has one leg kicked up next to Janus, and Janus holds Remus’ waist. Remus holds Janus’ arm and the back of his neck. Remus is grinning and Janus is scowling. They are looking into each other’s eyes.
The seventh shows Logan and Remus. Remus sits on Logan’s lap and has one leg over the other. His arms are wrapped around Logan’s shoulders. Logan is holding Remus’ back. Remus is smiling at him. Logan is looking at him.
The eighth shows Virgil and Patton. They are facing each other and drawn in profile. Virgil has a hand on Patton’s glasses, pushing them up onto his head. Their faces are close together. They are blushing. Patton is looking into Virgil’s eyes, and Virgil is looking at Patton’s lips. /End ID]
:O!!! oh wow you wrote image descriptions of all of them
