#ts deciet

Not gonna lie, when he started taking off his glove my dumbass thought that his name was going to be written on his hand. So when he turned it palm to the camera I was confused.

Hey guys! Sorry for being AWOL with my writing for a while. My mental health hasn’t been the best lately :( However! I did watch the new episode! And I had an idea for a story! This is going to be in the same vein as another story of mine Are We Cool? so I hope y’all enjoy!

@sympathetic-deceit-trash@fangirltothefullest @bluebloodstains @randomslasher  I figured you guys might like to read this maybe??

Warnings!: Possible spoilers for the newest Sanders Sides episode, sympathetic Remus, sympathetic Deceit/Janus, sexual innuendos, gore mentions, odd body movements.

The motion of a brush on a canvas had always been calming to Roman. The sudden appearance of color on a plain white surface gave him a small thrill that couldn’t really be beat, other than being on stage with hundreds watching him. But in any case, the thrill that was usually there was absent now, the burning anger replacing that feeling altogether. It increased tenfold when fingers suddenly appeared at the top of his painting, crazed eyes looking down at him with a Cheshire cat grin following it. 

“Remus, get off,” he grumbled, watching the other man laugh as he let go, the blue sky of his painting having strips of paint lifted up from where Remus’s fingers have been. The other side plopped down on Roman’s bed behind him, licking his fingers of where the paint imprinted on his skin.

“Well, dear brother, you’re in quite a mood,” Remus said, crossing his legs and putting his elbows on his knee, his chin resting on his palm as he gave the man a fake pout. “What, not happy to see me?”

“As if I’m ever happy to see you,” Roman turned in his stool to face his brother, crossing his arms with the paintbrush still in hand, glaring at him.

“Aw, Roman,” Remus cooed out, reaching like he was going to pinch the other brother’s cheek. He just grinned when Roman smacked his hand away, waving his own hand from side to side like he touched something slimy.

“Temper, temper,” Remus tsked, mirroring Roman by crossing his arms.

“Look, Remus, as much as you like to pester me into doing one of your messed up ‘adventures’, I’m in no mood to deal with you right now.” Roman turned back around to continue with his painting, flinching back when the scenic picture he had been painting just a moment was replaced with a graphic depiction of a head on the end of a stake staring back at him.

He growled out as he stood up with his brother laughing behind him, tossing the paintbrush to the ground as he pushed the easel over. The image dissipated back into his original painting once it hit the ground, not without creating a tear into the canvas. He let out a dramatic sigh, moving back to flop down on his bed. 

Remus was still there, laying down on his stomach with his legs kicking in the air. His hair was an absolute rat’s nest, but that was nothing new. “My, you are in a mood,” Remus mused as he stared at his brother, who had his eyes closed. “Was today’s video not wanting to focus on poor Roman?”

“That’s not it at all,” Roman said, keeping his eyes closed. “It’s…It’s that snake’s fault! He’s been messing with us for all this time, and then he said that his name was Janice, as if Thomas would believe—”

“Wait a minute, Janus told you his name?” Remus interrupted, his eyes getting impossibly wider as he leaned in closer to him. “Oh, tell me about that~”

“Wait, you knew?” Roman sat up in his bed, looking down at his brother with a frown. It was from this angle he realized that Remus’s morning star was leaning against the wall next to his bed, something he was surprised he hadn’t realize sooner. “I thought he was lying again when he said that his name was Janice?”

“Not Janice, dear brother, Janus,” Remus corrected him, sitting up as well. “Like the god with two faces! Oh, I wonder since he had two faces, would he have two di-”

“Focus, Duke, focus,” Roman said, snapping his fingers in front of the other’s face. His brother blinked a few times, bringing his head forward to snap his teeth right next to the hand before looking at him. “Now, how did you know that’s his name? You weren’t there with us for the video!”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, Princey.” Remus wagged his finger in Roman’s face, that grin shit-eating grin not leaving him. “You might have forgotten, but I’m unfiltered! Nothing gets past me and nothing is held back. I just choose to forget the stuff I think is too boring to remember until I have to bring it up.”

 Roman frowned at him, letting out a huff. “But that’s not the problem! The problem is that he’s evil! He’s done so much to hurt Thomas, and now Thomas thinks that he should be part of the group? That we should forgive him?”

Remus had his head tilted to the side at an unnatural angle, a sight that hadn’t creeped Roman out in a long time. The thing that was freaky about it was the look that the darker side was giving him; he looked thoughtful, like he was taking apart his words to think over what he said. “Brother, dear, let me ask you something.”

“What? Is it going to be about how I want to do something nasty to Deceit? Or make him eat something disgusting you created?” Roman spat out, trying to hide how weirded out he felt.

“No, for once. What I want to ask is simple: Do you see me as evil?”

Roman sputtered a bit, looking at his brother in surprise. He looked for a sign of a lie, a flash of a sharp-toothed grin to show that Remus was pulling his leg. After an awkward silence filled the room where they just stared at each other, he looked away to rub the back of his neck. “Well, no, I don’t think you’re evil…”

Remus looked a bit surprised by the answer, saying, “But aren’t I worse than Janus? I’m ruled by desire; if Thomas didn’t have any self-control or any shame, then I wouldn’t have stayed away from your silly videos until he was too exhausted to keep me at bay.”

“Yeah, but you’re different! You’re…You’re…” He trailed off, trying to think of what he wanted to say.

“I’m not part of the group,” Remus said, looking at him with the closest thing to a serious look that Roman had seen on him in a long time. “And my input isn’t wanted, nor do I think it ever will be,” he added, and Roman could have sworn he saw a flash of sadness in his eyes before it was gone, his grin coming back. 

“Roman, I can’t help with whatever sexual tension you two have—”

“It’s not sexual tension, my god, have you been listening?”

“But don’t let it get in the way of what’s true,” Remus ignored him. “Janus is in the forefront of Thomas’s mind now, and there’s nothing to stop that. You’re stuck with him, so you two can either make up and make out, or you can ignore him until your feelings override and you two fu-”

“I’m not letting you finish that,” Roman said sharply, causing his brother to laugh maniacally. Roman huffed as he got off his bed, going back to pick the now dry painting off the floor, waving his hand over where the tear in the canvas. Almost by magic, the tear fixed itself, looking like nothing had happened to it at all.

“Either way, whatever happens, you might want to give a quick look at what you think is ‘evil’.” Remus’s arm was on his shoulder now, though when Roman looked behind him, he could see that Remus was only just then getting off his bed with his arm stretched out to touch him. Once he reached him, Remus looked at Roman with a raised brow and finished, “Because if you don’t think I’Mevil, then you might need to really think about what evil is to you.”

Roman blinked a couple of times before he slowly nodded, a tired little smile coming to him. “I…I’ll think about it.”

“Good… now, would you like to follow me to that juicy tunnel that I found that I’ve been calling the Glory Ho-”

“Get out of here, Dukey,” Roman snorted out, pushing away a giggling Remus who was finally going to his bedroom door. Just before he left, he turned to look at Roman and said, “Oh, and one last thing.”

The creative side glanced back at his darker brother, who simply pointed in his direction. “I fixed your painting!” 

“What? No you did- AH!” He had turned to see what he meant when he saw a sight worse than the one that Remus had made appear earlier: it was painting of a naked Aunt Patty.

“Why?! Why would you do that?” Roman cried out as he covered his eyes, and even though he couldn’t see him, he could practically hear the grin spreading on his face. 

“It’s the one thing you can’t unsee!” he cackled before he pranced out, his morning star picking itself up to follow him out. 

Roman cautiously looked past his fingers, seeing that his painting was back to normal. He let out a weary sigh as he picked his paintbrush off the floor, the brush primed with the shade of blue he needed to fix the sky that Remus had messed up. When he finished, he took a step back to examine his work.

The picture was of him, Logan, Patton, Virgil, and Thomas, all laying on a hill while cloud gazing. He examined the painting for a few minutes, nodding slowly before he went back to painting, his singular paintbrush changing colors to the one he needed at the moment.

The next time he stopped was when he was called down by Patton to eat dinner, leaving it behind. He would find out that night that Patton was briefly stopped by Remus to ask about him, and had gone to check on him instead. He would also De- Janus come in at some point, making himself a plate before leaving with it and only giving the four sides a nod. And he’d have to help Logan and Patton calm Virgil down from getting up to possibly deck him, much to the other two’s surprise.

And then there was Remus, who had snuck back into brother’s room with a rare soft smile on his lips, looking at a painting of all of them on a hill to watch the clouds go by, with him right there in between Janus and Roman.

Behind This Mask is a Desperate Heart (Part One)

Hospital AU

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, Logan, Sympathetic!Deceit, and eventually Roman.

Pairings:Eventual Romantic Moxiety & Logince. That’s not to say other ships won’t arise ;)

Word Count:1251

Warnings: descriptions of medical procedures. This chapter examines how a blood sample is acquired.

Author’s Note: This serves as a short first and opening chapter for this AU.

Chapter 1 |Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|

    Virgil cautiously eyed the swift swipe of pale green drapes separating his hospital bed from the next and listened to passing, tired foot falls and erupting chatter. He detected the shuffling of loose leaf papers; the pitter patter of mechanical rain; and bland, never-ending ringtones.

    “Virgil Poole?”

    Virgil tore his gaze from the poorly-maintained, flickering, overhead lights, “Oh- uh, yeah?”

    “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” the nurse, swathed in pastel blue scrubs with black frames resting on the bridge of his nose, plunked Virgil’s charts onto the metallic bedside table before pulling up a chair.

    Absentmindedly, Virgil’s fingers twitched and tugged at the loose, thin threads on his ebony jacket as the nurse cordially rehashed what Virgil had discussed with the triage nurse.

    “-so, you’ve been experiencing some involuntary movements?”

    “Oh- yeah,” Virgil shoved his fidgeting fingers into his pockets with a weak sigh, “I’ve noticed tremors in my hands and legs.”  

    “Were these-,” the nurse briskly peered over at Virgil’s chart, “sudden contractions the cause of your fall?”

    “Yes,” Virgil sighed, bangs draping carelessly across his eyes.

    “How long have you been experiencing tremors?” the nurse passed Virgil a sympathetic glance - the poor thing.

    “A couple weeks now,” Virgil took a shaky breath, fingernails unknowingly digging into his sweaty palms, “that’s bad isn’t it?”

    “Not necessarily,” the nurse rose slowly, placing a comforting hand on Virgil’s shoulder as he plucked up the clipboard with care, “I’ll be right back with a doctor.”

     Once the nurse was gone, Virgil fiddled anxiously with his nimble fingers as people strode past his flimsy mattress. Left on edge, the crackling of the overhead speaker had Virgil snap his head in the direction of the noisy, drab notification summoning Dr. Wilson.

     “Mr. Poole?”

     “Yes?” Virgil peeled his uneasy gaze from the monochrome speaker.

     Before him stood the altruistic nurse with a soft touch and two men fitted in jade scrubs under worn, white, physician coats.

     “Thanks Patton,” one quietly and quickly addressed the nurse with a nod before his attention shifted sharply back to Virgil.

     “Hi, I’m Dr. Dee Whittaker,” the doctor smiled as he gestured towards himself before introducing the taller man with black spectacles stood beside him, “and this is my resident, Dr. Logan Taylor.”

     “I’d like to run a few tests to see what we’re dealing with.”

     “What kind of tests?” Virgil eyed the two nervously through wispy strands.

     “Well,” Logan glanced over at Dee for confirmation before continuing, “we’d like to run several neurological and physical tests to examine and review reflexes, balance, muscle tone, movement, and walking.”

     “And?” Dee waited expectantly.

     “And perform a venipuncture on the median cubital vein,” Logan profused, demonstrating exuberant knowledge like a Mensa scholar.

     “In English, please?” Virgil grumbled, rolling his eyes and furrowing his brow.

     “We’d like to obtain some of your blood for diagnostic procedures from the vein in the elbow pit, which is medically coined the cubital fossa,” Logan carefully rephrased his earlier statement.

     “Whatever.., I guess.”

     “With your consent, Dr. Taylor will retrieve a nurse to collect a blood sample,” Dr. Dee signaled with a wave for Logan to acquire a nurse that would conduct the procedure.

     “Wait- What exactly are you testing for?” Virgil questioned with apprehension as he swept his lengthy, magenta bangs out of his vision.

     “Neurodegenerative diseases,” Logan answered a little too mechanically for comfort.

    “Like..?” Virgil bit at the inside of his cheek.

     Another glance at Dee from Logan…, “Parkinson’s disease, Spinocerebellar ataxia, and Multiple Sclerosis to name a few.”

    “And with a blood test, you can figure out if I have any of those diseases?” Virgil forced his lips together and crammed his restless hands back into his empty pockets.

    “With a test, we can rule out diseases with similar symptoms. Without testing, we can’t determine what’s causing your ataxia,” Logan nudged his thick frames back onto the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

    “How long will it take to receive the results of my blood test?”  

    “About a day if the snow misses us,” Dee roughly estimated, peering down at his studded wristwatch,”we’re sending your blood sample to a neighboring lab for examination.”

    “Might as well get it over with.”

    “I’ll get the nurse then,” Logan briskly shifted on his heel, hastily departing to find a nurse practitioner.

—-

     “Patton, right?” Virgil fixed his gaze on the flimsy, laminated ID dangling from the nurse’s aerial scrubs.

     “That’s right!” Patton grinned as he stationed the metallic bedside table within reach, wheels scraping against chalky tile. Atop the table, Patton positioned several needles, alcohol pads, evacuated collection tubes, and a tourniquet across a burnished, metal plate.

     “Could you push up your sleeve and lay your arm facing up for me on the table?” Patton gestured kindly as he clutched the violet tourniquet.

    “Will the.. uh.. jab hurt?” Virgil shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck with clammy hands.

     “Needless to say, no,” Patton giggled, hoping to put his patient at ease.

     However, when Patton noticed Virgil chewing at his bottom lip, Patton announced that he would talk Virgil through each and every step before acting.

     “I’m going to apply a tourniquet now,” Patton declared before diligently fastening a square knot above Virgil’s venipuncture site to occlude venous blood flow.

     When Virgil flexed his fingers weakly, Patton frowned, “is it too tight?”

     “I’m not sure,” Virgil admitted, grimacing at the sensation of his heart rate swiftly climbing under his skin.

     “I can loosen it a bit,” Patton reached out with concern-laden eyes, and gloved finger tips brushing against Virgil’s upper arm.

    “There,” Patton slid his index finger under the stiff knot to wriggle it loose.  

     “Could you try make a fist for me now?” Patton asked warmly, imitating the motion with his own hand.

     And Virgil complied.

     “I’m going to cleanse the area with alcohol now,” Patton began prepping the venipuncture site by gently wiping cool alcohol pads against Virgil’s pale skin.

    “Okay-,” Patton delicately took Virgil’s arm into his clasp, “I’m going to insert the needle now, and you’re going to feel a slight pinch.”

      Pulling the skin taut, Patton anchored the vein to keep it from rolling as he inserted the needle into Virgil’s median cubital. Virgil grimaced as his blood flashed into the catheter, filling the evacuated collection tube rapidly.

     “Just one more tube,” Patton labeled the first sample before vigilantly depositing it into a transport bag.

     Once the next tube was brimming, Patton methodically unfastened the tourniquet as the last volume of blood was drawn. Peering up at Virgil, Patton gingerly withdrew the syringe from his tender arm before gently applying a piece of stringy gauze on the weeping vessel.

     “That’s all?” Virgil looked briefly at the bloody gauze pressed firmly against his skin.

     “That’s all, kiddo!” Patton chimed, “Now, that wasn’t too bad was it?”

     “I guess not,” Virgil grumbled.

     “Now, in the meantime, I’m going to have someone admit you to the neurology wing of the hospital.”

     “Okay…”

I’ll leave this here.

DECIET HAS A NAME, HE HAS A FUCKING NAME. HE’S CALLED JANICE, OH MY-