Hi guys! You can call me Rat/Ratty/Ratt (short for Ratthew) or 🐀Anon.
I love rats :)
Though my main account ( @radioactive-dazey ) is used to engage with a lot of sanders sides content, I decided to make this account for engagement with specifically one of my favorite ships.
Feel free to send your Roman/Virgil/Prinxiety head cannons to me! I cant promise I will keep up with this account everyday, but I promise to try
Roman is my favorite side. From favorite to least favorite, it typically goes Roman, Virgil, Janus, Remus, Logan, and Patton. The middle four swap spots fairly often, it just depends on the fics I'm currently working on.
I ship everyone with each other, except for the obvious no no ship. Typically if Roman is part of the ship I enjoy it. Logince, Roceit, and Prinxiety stay on my radar the most.
I hope to be hearing from you soon! Thanks for stopping by!
Roman paced his now fully decorated living space. He bumped into furniture carelessly, fiddling with his jacket zipper as he went, looking for some sort of distraction, or—
"Eugh," Roman said, yanking the red and white monstrosity off. "I hate this thing."
He tossed it onto the loveseat, rubbing his now cold arms in a soothing manner. "Can I have a new outfit, please?" He asked the room politely.
The room suddenly felt still.
"Is that a no?"
Roman waited a moment, and scoffed. "Look, I get that this is your idea of a joke— 'cute, lets make them swap outfits—' but this," He said, gesturing to all of himself, "does not suit me!"
The room didn't react.
"Just work with me," Roman pleaded. "Just because I have to ACT as anxiety doesn't mean I have to wear—"
A crackling noise filled the air, and Roman looked down at his clothes, which had been replaced with his old prince costume.
"This might be worse," he grumbled, and the costume disappeared, and he was once again wearing white jeans and a red shirt.
"Screw it," Roman said bitterly. "Give me my onesie," he pleaded. The room was once again filled with the sound of static, and Roman flopped onto the loveseat when—
"What are you doing?"
"DIOS MIO—" Roman flinched a mile high, jerking around to see Virgil behind him. "Don't sneak up on me!"
"Sorry," Virgil said apologetically, holding his hands up in front of him. "Just coming to grab you."
It seems like Virgil had gotten a similar idea, as he was no longer wearing the black and purple suit. He had put on a black corset over a horrendously vibrant purple long sleeved shirt, black jeans, and—
"Are you wearing a cape?"
Virgil frowned. "It's a cloak," he stated matter-of-factly. He waved around the material, and Roman noticed the inner cloth was covered in a web-pattern.
"What is it with you and spiders?"
"What is it with you and questions?" Virgil fired back. "Come on, we're getting out of here."
"Why," Roman whined.
"I have to baby-sit you."
Roman scoffed. "I don't need a baby-sitter!"
"Well, you don't really have a choice. Logan insisted on it, and since I can't sit in here for very long, we have to go!"
"I'm fully capable of looking after myself," Roman hissed.
Virgil took a step back, staring at Roman in a odd manner. "I don't deny that," He said carefully. "I just think that, with everything that has happened, you'd—"
"I'm fine, Virgil!
"The echo in your voice suggests otherwise."
Roman gritted his teeth and jerked his head around.
"Look, I get it," Virgil said slowly. "This whole thing sucks, I'm not asking you to talk, I just need to keep my eye on you, okay?"
"Why," Roman asked, staring a hole into the wall.
"Logan thinks there could be potential side effects," Virgil explained. "Personality changes or something. And this—"
He sighed, and Roman felt him put his weight on the back of the loveseat. "My role has this really nasty feedback loop."
Roman shifted, waiting for Virgil's elaboration, but it didn't come.
The air around them grew cold, and fused itself to Roman's bare skin. For the third time that day, Virgil's internal monologue, his anxiety, or whatever this was invaded Roman's consciousness.
Roman was momentarily paralyzed by it. The sensation of some sickly heaviness overwhelmed him, pulsating in his chest. It grew heavier, forming a pit in Roman's tummy, his heart skipping a beat as the anxiety radiated off Virgil and hit Roman, again and again. It was intense, and accompanied by one repeating thought: Roman can't handle this.
Roman fought down a gag.
"Are you o—"
Roman conjured a heavily bagged waste-basket and vomited.
"—kay."
"This shitty sixth sense," Roman moaned.
"Sixth sense?"
Roman held his head in the palm of his hand. "The— the thing. You know— room sticks to you like jelly?" Roman said, willing his bucket away. "Suddenly super cold, a flood of someone's internal monologue hitting you like a truck?"
Virgil just stared at him. "What are you talking about, Roman?"
"You don't have that?!"
"Have what?!"
"Any time you're anxious about something, it gets sucker-punched onto me!"
Virgil's mouth momentarily dropped open, and he inhaled sharply through his nose. "That is not normal."
"LOVELY."
…
The change in Roman was instantaneous. Virgil could see the tension leave Roman's body the moment they sunk down to Creativity's room. He watched as Roman let himself sink into the couch, breathing a sigh of relief as he threw a blanket over his lap and conjured his mini prince plush. Even his eyeliner toned down, the smudges blending out naturally around his eyes instead of being a chunky penciled-in mess.
"Is there anything I need to know about your role?" Virgil asked, making Roman look up from fiddling with his plush's sash. "Like— do I have a daydreaming quota or something?"
Roman laughed. "No, nothing like that."
"Okay so… what do you do?"
"Normally, I would work on scripts for skits or video ideas, but I asked Logan to not plan anything like that for the time being. So, consider this a vacation from all responsibilities."
"Not sure I like the sound of that."
"Well, I'm not sure I like the sound of you being in charge of Thomas's work!" Roman said, giving Virgil the stink eye.
Virgil rolled his eyes. "Okay, assuming you do that every day, which, I know you don't, what do you do when you're not scripting?"
"Crafts. Think about writing. Don't write."
"What a busy life you lead," Virgil said sarcastically.
"Hey now," Roman warned. "I have a very busy schedule. In fact, lately I've been lucky to have a few hours to myself. So yeah, if I have the opportunity to do something fun, like crafting and going to the imagination, then I'm going to do it!"
"Touchy," Virgil thought, but something Roman said caught his attention. "Imagination?"
It wasn't something Roman brought up often. Roman seemed to keep that realm wrapped up and close to his chest, which was a stark contrast to how often he'd boast about projects he'd recently completed or new ideas he had just come up with. It was a private little corner of the mind palace nobody could access, a place reserved specifically for Roman to do as he wished.
"I want to see it."
Virgil had always imagined it to be some fantastical fantasy land to explore, or in Remus's case, some Saw-level chamber used to relieve stress. But the way Roman reacted to the request had him second guessing. Roman looked hesitant, maybe even a little nervous, which lead Virgil to think it was a lot more personal than that.
"Nevermind," Virgil offered. "You don't have to show me."
"I probably won't," Roman said, the tension leaving his body, and Virgil tried to hide his disappointment.
"But just so you don't stumble across it accidentally, it's in the bedroom closet," Roman said slowly, fiddling with the zipper on his onesie. "Just— don't go in there without me."
"How come?"
Roman sighed. "It just— it can get a little too real in there."
He paused, and it was clear that the short, incredibly vague explanation was doing little to satisfy Virgil's curiosity, so he continued.
"The room can influence your actions. It's got a mind of its own, in a way— likes to force its way into whatever scenario you create. And it— it overwhelms you, you're forced into a role, and suddenly, you're not you. You're Prince Roman on a quest to fight a dragon-witch, or— anything, really."
Virgil let the words settle over him, nodding. "And you do that for fun?"
"Well, when the room is nice, yes. It can be fun."
"Is there anything else I should know?"
Roman opened his mouth, then closed it.
"What? What is it?" Virgil asked, but Roman shook his head.
"It's irrelevant," Roman mumbled. "If it comes up, I'll know."
Before Virgil could ask what he meant, Patton had risen up into the room.
"Virgil?! Roman?! Oh my gosh, are you kiddos alright?"
"Patton!"
Virgil felt suddenly out of place as Roman jumped up and squeezed Patton into a bear hug, who instantly returned it. A jealous pit formed in his stomach, growing larger as Roman explained the whole story to Patton, who—
Virgil gritted his teeth and chose to look at his spider-less curtains. Why was he jealous?!
Was it the affection? Surely not. That was the kind of thing he'd only accept when the situation demanded it, such as a post panic attack grounding technique, and not something he'd ever seek out.
And from Patton? He could be so suffocating, how he coddled Virgil. He refused to entertain the idea, but the jealousy was eating at him.
And now, Patton was caressing Roman's face, all but cooing at him and their predicament. He went in for another hug, and—
Virgil shot up and shoved his way into Patton's embrace, linking his arms around his body. "Screw it," he thought to himself, hiding his face in Patton's shoulder. Just this once, he could accept Patton's affections. It didn't mean anything.
Almost as soon as he had done that, Patton stopped talking. There was a long pause, as if it took him a moment to register what was happening, and Patton reciprocated the hug moments later, squeezing Virgil tightly.
The jealous storm inside Virgil settled, and he breathed softly.
"How are you holding up, my little nightmare?"
"Better than Roman," Virgil replied, muffled into Patton's shirt, and he relaxed further as Patton rubbed his back.
"Well, that's good, isn't it?" He said, pressing a short kiss to Virgil's temple, and Virgil thought he'd melt.
"Are you feeling alright?"
Virgil nodded. "Yeah," He verbalized. "Why do you ask?"
Patton started swaying Virgil back and forth in a rocking motion. "N-not that I'm complaining, but you usually aren't so cuddly…"
Virgil began pulling away with a barely audible whine, but Patton just hugged him tighter. "Oh, kiddo, I wasn't asking you to stop!"
So, once again, Virgil buried himself into Patton's hug.
…
Roman would consider himself a very talkative side, but for the first time in his life, he was rendered speechless.
Virgil was clinging to Patton.
At first, Roman was slightly annoyed that Patton swapped his attention so quickly, but now the two of them were in the middle of a confused staring contest, and occasionally glancing to Virgil, who looked the most relaxed Roman had ever seen him.
"What is he doing," He mouthed, gesturing vaguely to Virgil, and Patton mouthed a very concerned "I don't know" back.
"Virgil, kiddo, are you sure you're alright?"
"Positive," Virgil mumbled.
Patton gave Roman a nervous glance.
"Virgil," he said, clearing his throat. "I need to talk to Roman for a sec, how 'bout we continue this cuddle party a little later, okay?"
Virgil hummed. "Okay."
Roman and Patton were quick to ascend the stairs, Patton watching Virgil til he was out of view. Quickly, they stepped in the bedroom and gently shut the door.
"He seems…" Patton started, letting his voice trail off.
"Cuddly," Roman finished the thought, drumming his fingers against his arms as he looked over the newly decorated bedroom space. Interestingly, Virgil had left most of his bedroom alone, just changing the sheets and curtains on the canopy bed to a solid gray. The only notable addition was the fairy-lights strung along the ceiling, twinkling overhead. It was a nice touch, Roman would have to remember that.
"Good ol' scare bear became a care bear," Roman said with a forced chuckle. "Kinda weird, but this whole thing is."
"I wonder why that is," Patton questioned. Suddenly, his head tilted up. "Logan said there could be personality changes. Is there something about your room that could cause that?"
Roman paused. "Technically, yes."
Patton cocked his head to the side, and Roman sighed.
"Not important. Besides, this— this could be nothing. He's probably like— I dunno, touch starved?"
"It doesn't have to be a thing," Roman said, mostly to soothe his growing nerves. "At least now he isn't acting like he has a stick up his—"
"Roman," Patton warned, his eyes widening and a scowl forming on his mouth.
"It's true, though! Besides, how often do you get to hug Virgil like that?
Patton looked down at his shoes and nervously fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie. "It was nice," he admitted, a guilty frown forming on his face. "I'm just worried. Everything has been so confusing lately. This isn't helping."
"No, it's not."
They stood quietly for a moment, and—
"Roman?"
Instantly, the room around Roman dropped five degrees. He suddenly regretted his decision to ditch the jacket, as the cold air fused itself to his skin and Patton's anxiety radiated off him, but instead of Patton's consciousness hitting him like a truck, it hit more like a pillow swung at full force.
Though still disorienting, the sensation itself was less nauseating and more manageable. The worst part was feeling Patton's guilt channel into Roman through the repeated monologue, but even that felt easy. In some twisted fashion, Roman thought he may be getting used to it.
"I have to fix this, I have to talk to him, I have to fix this, I have to talk to h—"
"Can we talk?"
It took him a moment to realize Patton had verbalized his thoughts, and Roman blinked rapidly, shaking his head back and forth to clear it. "Wh— Huh?"
Patton smiled nervously, and tapped his fingertips together. "Are we— are things different now? After— after the callback?"
Roman's stomach twisted into a knot.
"I— I don't think this is the time to talk about this," Roman said weakly. "Kinda have this whole thing going on…"
"O-of course," Patton said, his voice quivering, which he failed to mask behind a forced smile. "Just wanted to— talk. If there's— a- anything you need to talk about—"
"Yup, I got it."
Hurt flickered through Patton's expression, disappearing so quickly and so masterfully that Roman was shocked he caught it at all.
The room felt unbearably tense. Roman's sudden guilt suffocating him, and turned into an impulse to apologize and comfort Patton. But why should he?! He wasn't trying to be dismissive, he just needed time.
He was going to let this sit, and Patton would understand. It didn't mean anything.
Still…
Roman cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I suppose if Virgil still wants your company, we could try to find a movie to watch."
A small smile formed on Patton's face. "I'd like that."
Roman gave Patton a short nod, and he turned to open the door. He started down the stairs, expecting to feel some relief, but the knot in his stomach tightened.
He gave it a temporary fix, nothing more but a kiss on a bandaged wound. Things were fine, Patton was fine, Roman was fine.
Roman sat back into the sofa, and shot Patton and Virgil a short smile. Why didn't anything feel fine.
Roman's nausea returned, and suddenly, one thing felt certain.
He and Virgil were most definitely not switching back any time soon.
Roman and Virgil are the type of couple who insult each other in public but also have the most wholesome nicknames for each other that they only use when their alone.
