crescent moon [sanders sides x reader]

'you can see them too?' (prologue)

I open Thomas's front door without bothering to knock and establish myself on his sofa with a bag of granola and my own phone. As his Best Friend™ I have no qualms about being rude, especially after that one time (that we never talk about) when he walked around wearing literally nothing but his underwear and vest in front of me for two hours. 

I contemplate turning on the TV and entertaining myself with one of the many Disney movies Thomas has stashed away in a special DVD container, then promptly give in to my urge to do so, stuffing my phone into a practically non-existent pocket in my jeans (it's a fundamental problem with women's clothes. Why are the pockets always so tiny?) and shuffling through the many, many cases piled up inside. 

"We must be swift as a coursing river!"

I (badly) sing to myself as I stick my head into the cabinet and search for Mulan in the pile of DVD cases. While Thomas is a singer, my singing really doesn't go beyond the basic primary school kid voice. At least I have my unrivalled piano skills to compensate for that. Although to be fair, the only real achievement I have in that particular department apart from the grades themselves is that I worked with Dan and Phil on their internet song for their tour a year or two ago and somehow managed to get Dan's number in my contacts, but let's not talk about that. 

"With all the force of a great typhoon!
With all the strength of a raging fire!
Mysterious as the dark side of-"

I'm interrupted by someone who sounds almost exactly like my childhood best friend (apart from the accent) practically squealing at the top of their voice, 

"-the mooooooooooon!"

I let out an unholy screech and start upwards before whacking my head on the cabinet extremely hard.

"Shit shit shit shit shit," I whine to myself in pain, falling back and rocking back and forth. "Owowowowo that fucking hurts-"

"My apologies!" came a regal-sounding accent that was somewhere between British and something else entirely of his own. 

I whip around.

Nothing.

There was no one standing in the room anywhere around me.

Am I going crazy? 

"I must be going-"

"Hello there!" 

"-what the fuck?!"

"Language!"

"You're not my real dad!"

"You weren't the one who was swearing, though."

"What the hell is going on?"

Okay, I have now come to the conclusion that I am indeed completely and utterly bonkers.

Standing around me in a circle are four replicates of my very own best friend.

Closest to me and looking extremely apologetic is a very kingly-looking version of Thomas. The hair is pretty much the same apart from it being swept back with liberal amounts of hairspray, and his eyes are a little more amber than brown. He's wearing a snowy white robe-like garment that resembles the Prince from Cinderella's outfit except with a red sash and strange coats-of-arms on the upper arm sleeves. Surprisingly enough, he seems a little taller than Thomas - Thomas is normally just a few centimetres taller than me, whereas this guy is at least a head taller than me. He has a height that would probably rival Dan Howell himself- 

-holy shit, this other dude is a giant????

He's wearing the glasses that Thomas usually wears for his Sanders Sides videos (in hindsight, I'm severely questioning my own sense of logic, considering I still haven't figured out what is clearly going on) and he's so fucking tall oh my god? He's so tall that I'd have to go right up to the tips of my toes to even get near enough to his shoulders to hug him. He's also wearing the exact costume that belongs to Thomas's Logan character in his videos - a black button up that's done up suspiciously high with a logo on the upper left chest and a striped blue-and-purple tie. He looks almost like a teacher. 

Standing a few paces away from me is another Thomas-lookalike wearing matching glasses to the one in the button up, this time wearing a  blue polo shirt with his own logo on the upper left chest again. He has a fluffy grey hoodie of some kind tied around his shoulders (which is not a very efficient place to keep it but okay) and his hair swept back a little. This man is a tiny bit above my height - shorter than Thomas but not quite as short as me. I'm getting dad vibes from him, despite him being the most childish looking about of them all.

And then there is the fourth; a shadowy figure slouched in a sitting position on the stairs that I can't really make out the height of. He's got Thomas's slighly mousy brown hair, but he's combed it in such a way that the bangs cover the tops of his eyes. He's certainly the most angsty looking out of them - he's even smudged a load of eyeshadow under his eyes like a total extra hoe? I am suitably impressed and totally need to up my own angsty-teen game. However, despite his 'stay-the-fuck-away-from-me' vibes, I have the strangely strong urge to hold him close and protect him he looks like such a smol bean??????

"Oh," I say in a defeated tone. "Well, I'm clearly off my rockers."

I climb up from my uncomfortable position sprawled out on the floor and flop onto the sofa. "Well, as none of you are Thomas, I'm just gonna assume you've broken in and call the police-"

I reach for my phone and very honestly prepare to dial 911 when Thomas slams the door open and sees me lying on his sofa like the limp noodle I am. 

"Oh sup, Thomas," I say, saluting, "Just dialling the police about the four random friendorinos standing in your lounge. Go back to whatever you were doing."

"Don't call the police on us!" yelps blue polo dude, scrambling forwards and essentially leaping at me. I throw my arms over my face, while my best friend himself pushes as far away from me as physically possible. 

Blue lands on me with a cringe-worthy 'flump' noise. I wince and shove him off.

"Excuse me, sirrah," I say with the strongest British accent I can manage (which honestly isn't hard considering my very-British heritage and already pretty strong British accent), "But I believe I did not consent to your violation of my personal space."

"Sorry," he says in a flustered fashion, scrambling away and cowering behind Mr Angsty Teen-

And then the realisation falls on me like a falling piano.

"Oh," I say, my voice getting louder as I finally understand what the fuckity fuck is going on here, "OHHHHHH." I spin around and snap the finger guns at Thomas, who currently is lying on the floor nearby with an expression that suggests I have just revealed a huge and terrible secret to him (which really isn't plausible as we are best friends, which means we tell each other everything). "SANDERS SIDES!"

I pause as I realise how surprised he is. "What? Are they new or something?"

"You can see them too?"  Thomas asks, a look of complete and utter confusion written across his face.

I look from Thomas and back to the four Thomas lookalikes standing in front of me. 

"I think that much is clear."