#Logan: !

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Burned Out

hiya! guess who’s craving more angst?? me!! So, since bruised ego, creative block, and shackled creativity has already been done plenty times, what if Roman had literal burnout. like maybe he’s got a high fever or he feels like he’s literally being burnt and he doesn’t realize it. Maybe another side smells the smoke and follow it to Roman who is just working away and he looks exhausted and sick and stuff. And then the sides take care of him and give him comfort. - lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

 Read on Ao3

Warnings: burn out, emotional and physical

Pairings: DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3382

The first time Roman noticed it, he thought it was a new power.

 The first time Roman noticed it, he thought it was a new power.

In his defense, he was still young! Creativity still reigned supreme in the Imagination, how was he supposed to know what it meant? The Imagination was wild and free and he was the only one who could tame it! He and his brother would craft wondrous things the other Sides couldn't hope to imagine, and they did it every day, all day, until Thomas had to go to sleep and they could slip into his dreams and play all night long.

So when he saw a spark curling up from the tips of his fingers, he thought he'd created something new.

It was so cool to have fires burning in his fingers, wasn't it? Fire at this point was still dangerous and scary and all the adults told you never to go near it because it was so scary. So if Roman could have fires burning in his fingers that made smoke and sparks, that was cool.

"Maybe you're gonna be like a dragon," Remus had suggested, his tentacles flopping around. It was at this point that the—well, the Sides that would become the Dark Sides had started to show their more animalistic features. Janus's scales had begun to show, his extra arms making him a menace when it came to movie nights. Virgil's voice was doing this weird thing now that made his ghost stories extra scary. And Remus, well, Remus smacks Roman's arm. "That's cool! I'm a Kraken, you're a dragon!"

"I thought Logan said you were an octopus."

"A Kraken is just a really big octopus."

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

Roman reaches out to push Remus over but another set of sparks comes from his fingers and Remus shrieks. "Ow!"

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't—I forgot—are you okay?"

"Yeah, 'm fine." Remus gives himself a good shake and grins maniacally. "See?"

Roman lets out a breath of relief and looks at his fingers again. The sparks are still curling from them, drifting down on the grass. Everywhere they land, the grass fizzles and snaps and turns black.

"Maybe I shouldn't be here right now. I don't wanna burn everything."

"But you don't wanna burn the Mindscape either."

Roman sighs. That is true. "Maybe—maybe we can just—sit? So I don't burn anything?"

"Fine by me. You can tell me what ending you came up with for the story if you want."

He goes to do that but instead yelps at the sudden pain in his fingers. "Uh, maybe not."

"Do you wanna go…tell someone about this?"

"What? No, no, it's fine. Besides," he declares, puffing his chest up, "I'm gonna be a proper dragon when they all see me!"

"Bet I'll finish transforming first."

"Bet you won't!"

"Bet I will!"

 2.

The first time Roman figures out what it is, he almost destroys every single project he's been working on for the last month.

It hadn't been the…easiest of months, that's for sure, but it wasn't like it was the worst one he'd ever had. Sure, he had a lot of projects to do for Thomas but that was his job, he couldn't complain about being able to do his job. It was hard enough convincing everyone that it was worth taking the time to do these projects, he couldn't exactly start complaining about them now. And sure, it wasn't like it was gonna be a one-and-done thing, he had to submit them for everyone to talk about before he could officially pronounce them done, but still.

He's fine.

This is fine.

He's just come from a meeting where Logan was…not too enthusiastic about the amount of time he'd been spending holed up in his room working on things. Well, 'working' on things as Logan put it, was a core element of his, ahem, 'evaluation' of Roman wherein he described exactly how unproductive Roman's time-spent-to-product-shown ratio is.

Two weeks for just one chapter, Roman? In the past, you have managed to complete multiple chapters in the same day. Why have you decided to decrease productivity?

"It's not like I can just push a button and this stuff comes out," Roman grumbles as he goes back to sorting through his desk, "I'm not a machine. Do you know how much braining it takes to make the words go? No, all you care about is whether you can tick the little box that says 'Roman's Dumb Project' off your to-do list."

The other part of it, one that Roman argued for during the meeting, is that he's better now. When he was younger—when Thomas was younger, it was just a matter of getting things down on a page. He wasn't worried about language or narrative or characters, didn't have to hold himself to higher standards because he hadn't made those yet. He's worked to get better at what he does and so now it takes more time.

The problem is that Logan's type of work is the kind that becomes easier when you're better at it, so Logan argued that because he was better, it should be taking less time.

"We're not the same," Roman mutters to himself as he had said downstairs, "you can't hold me to the same degree you hold yourself."

I can, Logan had said as everyone else looked away in silent agreement, and I should. If you don't increase productivity, perhaps we need to reevaluate how we approach projects like this in the future.

"I'll reevaluate your face, how about that?"

He goes to pick up the sheaf of paper that represents all the work he's put into the past month with Logan's comments on it and his fingers twitch.

A single spark touches the paper.

"What? No, no, no!"

It races along the edge, curling into a blackened, ruined husk in a matter of moments. Roman rushes to put it out, get that piece of paper away from the rest, but more sparks keep catching and soon the flames begin to lick at the entire stack. In a blind panic, he flails for his water bottle and empties the contents over the burning pages. The fire dies with a wet sizzle.

Panting, he looks down at his hands. His fingertips are smudged with ash.

And the entire project with Logan's careful annotations sits in a wet, soggy mush.

"Thank god," he mutters to himself, "I took notes."

He waits a few more minutes to ensure he's not about to set fire to anything else and carefully disposes of the now-ruined stack of paper. It slides into the trash with a desolate squishing sound. He decides it's probably a good idea to wait before touching his notebook too.

 3.

The first time he sets fire to a canvas, he knows this isn't a superpower.

Granted, he hasn't really thought that since the Split. The only Sides that had animal-like features and such were the Dark Sides and Roman was Not a Dark Side. He was a Light Side and that meant that he shouldn't tell anyone else about it. But still, privately, just for himself (and maybe a few times in a corner of the Imagination no one but Remus knows about) he pretends that he can summon flame as a superpower.

Not in a 'back now, ye villain!' way or a 'let's see you defeat me when I can do this!' way, but in a quieter way. Maybe that's why he doesn't tell anyone about it, because it doesn't fit with his big arrogant Princely persona.

He pretends he's an old man in a quiet little cave, far away from his kingdom. His cave is filled with soft moss and warm rocks and in the center is a little firepit. When weary travelers come from far and wide, looking for a place to spend the nights, he takes them in and lights his fire, offering simple meals that taste more filling than anything you could ever dream of, and stories to help you fall asleep.

It's a selfish dream, but it's his favorite.

It's been a long week. He's had projects piling up on top of each other and everything seems to need an emergency last draft because apparently people don't understand that when he says I'm finished, that's not an invitation for them to come in and say oh, can you fix this, this, and this? 'Finished' means 'no more edits.' It means 'you've missed your window to tell me there are things you want changed.' It means 'you're the asshole who set this fucking deadline so you don't get to give me more work and then complain that I'm missing deadlines.'

He's a bit upset over it.

The point is he's been working overtime recently trying to get his work in and done and out of the way so he can focus on other things. Namely, all of the other goddamn projects they keep giving him. And finally, finally, he's at the end of the week and everything is done and now, now it's the weekend. Which means it's time for him to do the things he wants to do.

Remus has claimed the Imagination for the day—they each have to go through every month or so and do a spring cleaning of sorts—and so he's in his room, toying with all the things he could work on. He could keep working on that short story he's been putzing around for a while, he could do that crafting thing he's been meaning to do forever…

He looks down at his fingers. They've gone black again. They've started to do that more often now. He absentmindedly rubs them together and they smear across his hand with a slight sting of tender flesh. It reminds him of the ashes in his little firepit and he smiles.

That's what he can do. He can paint his little safe haven.

He summons a large blank canvas and paints, carefully mixing up the colors he wants to use and reaching for a brush. The moment his fingers touch it, he yelps in pain.

The metal rim around the base of the bristles cracks and warps from the heat of the fire. He frowns, trying again, only for the wood to start to smolder and he quickly drops it.

"Alright," he mutters, "maybe different brushes?"

The plastic ones just start to melt and smell horrible. The better wood ones just get way too hot to hold and he has to let them go with stinging palms. Even the littlest ones that he can pinch between two fingers aren't working.

He tries switching mediums. The colored pencils just snap. The markers start to smell so toxic he has to stop for a good ten minutes to fan the fumes away. The oil pastels melt all over his hands and it would be cool if it weren't so frustrating.

In a last-ditch attempt to just do something, he drags his fingers through the paint and grins victoriously when it stays on there. He reaches out to smear it across the canvas and—

He watches in horror as the flames eat through the canvas in a matter of seconds.

The empty wooden frame clatters hollowly to the floor.

 4.

The first time he gets a fever, he knows this is how he experiences burnout.

He's put it together by then. It's oddly poetic—at least it would be if it weren't so infuriating.

But when he wakes up one day with his head pounding and his entire body sweating and feverish, it goes from infuriating to downright torturous.

The fever is relentless, burning him alive one moment—not literally, thank all the gods that have ever been invented and a few that haven't yet—and freezing him the next. He sweats through all of his clothes in what feels like two seconds and half his blankets to boot, and then he's forced to curl back in up in the gross sticky sheets because he feels like he's going to freeze to death. His head has sledgehammers beating against it from all sides and he must start crying from it at one point because he's got tears on his cheeks and a stuffy nose on top of everything else.

He wants someone here. He wants someone to take care of him. He wants someone to kiss his forehead and tell him it's all gonna be okay so bad.

Immediately, his mind goes to the Imagination. Of all the selfish things he indulges in there, the people he's conjured just to take care of them are right near the top of the list.

He thinks of the castle steward, the slightly too-flirty young man with curly hair and a wicked smirk who softens at the first sign of genuine discomfort. He wants him to come and find him like this with some off-hand pickup line about getting even hotter before he calls for a bath to help get his fever down.

He whines as the fever suddenly flares hot again and he shoves the blankets down around his knees.

He thinks of the sweet no-nonsense woman who makes chainmail in the town square and how he just wants her to come say oh, it's alright, love, you'll be alright. He wants her to come make sure he's got enough fluids in him and sit with him, stroking his brow and keeping him focused on resting, not how awful he feels.

The pounding in his head gets worse.

He thinks of the kindly old knight who is one of the few people that actually remembers and how he looks at Roman like he's so proud of him. He wants him to come and just be here, maybe if he's feeling particularly pathetic, he'll cup his face with one gloved hand, kiss his sweaty temple and murmur this too shall pass, my dear boy.

He doesn't realize the ash has spread to his arms until he tries to wipe his face and sees the burning sparks.

It's cruel, he decides in one of his last lucid moments before he succumbs to the fever, that the very things that bring him comfort in his worst moments are the same ones he is to be punished for by the flames.

 5.

The first time the ashes spread to his face, he thinks he might die.

It's not been good. He feels chained to his desk, fingers bound to the keys of the keyboard churning out word after word after word. He's not even sure of their quality anymore, only sure that the number in the corner keeps getting higher and they won't be happy unless it reaches four digits. The work isn't even fun anymore. It's just a chore. The ideas that once ran around his brain with boundless energy have vanished.

Burned to a crisp.

He's stopped wearing his prince costume. The ash just gets on the white immediately and it's so hard to clean. He wears ratty old T-shirts now because no one will notice if they're a little more threadbare than they were when he started. The ash trails all over his pants, his desk, his computer, up his arms and across his torso.

He thinks hysterically that he can see his fingers getting shorter with the amount of ash he keeps losing.

The fever never really goes away. He keeps a hot water bottle and a bowl full of ice next to him as he works, either to put on his lap when his fingers tremble from the cold or to stick in his mouth when he can't breathe from the heat. His typing will grow clumsy and he has to force himself to go back and fix his typos, lest he forget and accidentally submit them to the others.

It hurts. There's nothing poetic or glamorous about it. It just really fucking hurts.

When he drags himself to the bathroom too many times for how few words he's written, he stops.

There, in the mirror. His face…

He's run out of words to describe it. He just looks at his face covered in ashes and cries.

That hurts too.

 +1.

The first time the others come to take care of him, he thinks he's dreaming.

He thinks he's dreaming when he hears Patton quietly go oh, sweetheart, and gentle hands reach for him and adjust the covers around his head. They tuck back the blankets just enough so he can breathe easier and the softest kiss presses to the tip of his nose. It's okay, sweetheart, we're here now.

He thinks he's dreaming when he feels Virgil's arms hook under his and lift him up so he can carry him to the bathroom. Easy, Princey, it's okay. We're gonna get you in the bath, okay? You're a mess right now. The strong chest next to his cheek feels soft and he can't help trying to nuzzle into it. Shh, it's okay, bud, I gotcha.

He thinks he's dreaming when he hears Logan's voice instructing quietly how to make him better. The water will feel cold to you but it isn't. You've got to let it do its work and help break that fever, alright? Strong and sure hands wipe the tears from his cheeks and he just keeps crying. Hush now, little one, it's alright. We're right here.

He thinks he's dreaming when he feels a soft washcloth brushing against his face, his neck, down his arms and legs. The smell of Janus's favorite body wash fills his nose as an almost hypnotic whisper fills his ears. Shh, shh, my prince, don't you fret. We'll take care of you.

He thinks he's dreaming when it apparently comes time to get him out of the bath and Remus is there, tentacles and all, drying him off with a soft fluffy towel and getting him into a clean shirt and boxers. You're such a mess, Roro. I love you so much.

He thinks he's dreaming, but then he remembers that it hurts to dream right now.

He thinks—he thinks—

"…Re?"

"Roro? Ro-bro, can you hear me?"

"'S that you?"

"Yeah, Roro, it's me. I'm right here. Oh, fuck, I'm right here, you're doing so good, okay? It's gonna be okay, we're right here."

"Easy, Remus, you're gonna freak him out more. Calm down, bud."

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down, Roman's—"

"Still not out of the woods, so shush."

He blinks, trying to figure out what's going on. Someone with glasses leans over him.

"Roman? Can you hear me, little one?"

"L'gan?"

"Yes, that's me." He can't be imagining the relief in Logan's voice. "Your fever's broken but we need to get you to drink something. Have you been able to keep things down?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Janus—"

"Right here." A cool hand supports his head and another guides something to his lips. "Your favorite flavor, sweetie, we need to get your electrolytes back up."

He drinks. A hand strokes his throat to help him swallow. By the time it's pulled away from him, he feels a little bit more human.

"Good," Janus whispers, his hands still cradling Roman's body, "good job, sweetie."

"Kiddo? Can you look at me?"

It takes a moment, but Roman manages to open his eyes, turning his head to try and find Patton. Patton smiles when he does it, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

"You're gonna be okay," he says in that firm voice that brokers no argument, "you will. I know it might not seem like it right now, but you're gonna be okay."

"…yeah?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he promises, "you're gonna be okay."

For the first time, in perhaps a very, very long time, a different spark flares to life inside Roman's chest.

Hope.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @ultrageekygirl  

[themareverine]

been there, tried that

#nailed it

[longreads]

How Concerned Citizens Drove a Neo-Nazi Out of Rural Maine

Christopher Pohlhaus planned to build a fascist training compound in the woods of rural Maine. The local journalists, veterans, lumberjacks, and policymakers weren't having it.

Pohlhaus, 37, is a former U.S. marine, an itinerant tattoo artist, and a hardcore white-supremacist influencer. He is loud and hostile, and proud to be both. His voice is pitched surprisingly high, and he has a slight Southern drawl. He has a large body and small bald head; a blue-black tattoo crawls up the right side of his face, from his chin to his forehead. Over the years, Pohlhaus has collected thousands of social media followers, who know him by his nickname: Hammer.

Hammer had been living in Texas for a few years when, in March 2022, he bought the land in Maine. He told his followers that he was going to use it to build a haven, operational center, and training ground for white supremacists.

Check out our excerpt of The Atavist’s latest blockbuster story. 

[389]

PORTO ROCHA

[nanaluvbug]

🧀🥪🌶️🥭 The Ravening War portraits  🧀🥪🌶️🥭

patreon * twitch * shop  

[ID: a series of digitally illustrated portraits showing - top left to bottom right - Bishop Raphaniel Charlock (an old radish man with a big red head and large white eyebrows & a scraggly beard. he wears green and gold robes with symbols of the bulb and he smirks at the viewer) Karna Solara (a skinny young chili pepper woman with wavy green hair, freckled light green skin with red blooms on her cheeks. she wears a chili pepper hood lined with small pepper seeds and stares cagily ahead) Thane Delissandro Katzon (a muscular young beef man with bright pinkish skin with small skin variations to resemble pastrami and dark burgundy hair. he wears a bread headress with a swirl of rye covering his ears and he looks ahead, optimistic and determined) Queen Amangeaux Epicée du Peche (a bright mango woman with orange skin, big red hair adorned with a green laurel, and sparkling green/gold makeup. she wears large gold hoop earrings and a high leafy collar) and Colin Provolone (a scraggly cheese man with waxy yellow skin and dark slicked back hair and patchy dark facial hair. he wears a muted, ratty blue bandana around his neck and raises a scarred brow at the viewer with a smirk) End ID.)

[70sscifiart]

One of my favorites by Paul Lehr, used as a 1971 cover to "Earth Abides," by George R. Stewart. It's also in my upcoming art book!

[taizooo]

もともとは10年ほど前にTumblrにすごくハマっていて。いろんな人をフォローしたらかっこいい写真や色が洪水のように出てきて、もう自分で絵を描かなくて良いじゃん、ってなったんです。それで何年も画像を集めていって、そこで集まった色のイメージやモチーフ、レンズの距離感など画面構成を抽象化して、いまの感覚にアウトプットしています。画像の持つ情報量というものが作品の影響になっていますね。

映画『きみの色』山田尚子監督×はくいきしろい対談。嫉妬し合うふたりが語る、色と光の表現｜Tokyo Art Beat

[layla-keating]

#thistension

XO, KITTY — 1.09 “SNAFU”

[nevver]

No one wants to be here and no one wants to leave, Dave Smith (because)

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

On and Off

Two sides are having a pissing match. The other four (and maybe Thomas) try to get them to chill the fuck out and/or apologize. It goes about how you'd expect. - diamond-blade

also! did a quick look and realized that I've posted consistently every week for going on three years now which uhhhhh wow time is passing

but I've realized that i want to work on some of my original projects and i'm struggling right now to find time to do both fics and do that so i wanted to ask and see how y'all would feel if I took a bit longer to post stuff or took a brief hiatus

nothing firm yet just casting my net

Read on Ao3

Warnings: an argument/possible unsympathetic logan and/or janus but nothing major

Pairings: none

Word Count: 2377

"Thank you, Logan."

"Of course. I'm happy to help out both on and off camera."

And that could've been the end of it, had Logan not caught Janus trying to hide a scoff. 

"Well," Logan says as the Sides rise back up into their own living room, "I'd say that went well."

"Yeah!" Patton rubs his hands together, smiling gleefully around as the rest of them shake off the 'personas' they wear for filming with Thomas. He adjusts his glasses and claps his hands. "Oh, it's so nice to be filming with all of us again, it's been so long!"

"Wait, has it really?"

"I think so, I mean, it's been since…"

"Oh, shit—"

"Language!"

"Sorry, Pat," Virgil apologizes, "but yeah, I think it's been since…Remus's introduction?"

"No, no," Logan corrects, "technically the five-year anniversary is the last time we were all involved in a filming process."

"Wait, but weren't we technically all involved in—you know what, I'm just gonna look it up."

Janus rolls his eyes. "Regardless, Patton is right. It's been…not unpleasant."

Virgil slowly raises his eyes from his phone. "Was that sarcasm or no?"

"I don't think it was, kiddo, but—"

"Oh, for crying out loud, yes, I had fun."

"I don't know, Patton, it still seems like—alright, alright, hey, hey!" Virgil holds his arms up to defend himself from Janus's pillow-wielding arms. "Enough! I give, I give!"

Janus sniffs as he sets the pillows down, trying and failing to hide the fond smile on his face, when his attention catches on the twins. "Roman? Remus? Are you two alright?"

Both of them startle, as if they'd forgotten everyone else was in the room. Roman recovers first, quickly putting on a bright smile and waving his hand nonchalantly.

"Yes, of course, my dear snake, we're both alright."

Virgil narrows his eyes. "You know we're done filming now, right? You don't have to keep doing…that."

"Maybe that's just how he feels," Remus shoots back as Roman blinks, "how about you keep your nose out of it?"

Patton raises his hands. "Whoa, kiddos, let's take a second."

"Remus, are you…good? Is something wrong?"

The twins exchange a quick look before Roman takes a deep breath. "Character bleed."

Logan makes an ah sound as the rest of them look around in confusion. "The twins—as Creativity in general—have a harder time 'leaving the filming space,' so to speak, and so it can be harder for them to leave the 'characters' they portray for Thomas's videos."

"Thank you, Logan."

"Of course. I'm happy to help out both on and off camera."

And that could've been the end of it, had Logan not caught Janus trying to hide a scoff.

"Is there something you take issue with, Janus?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," he says in a tone that belies just how much there is, "just…marveling at your capabilities."

"Okay," Virgil mutters, "that was definitely sarcasm."

"Indeed." Logan draws himself up a little taller. "Speak plainly."

"Oh, and I'd never dream of disobeying an order from you." Janus holds a hand to his chest and gives him a look. "After all, we all know just how important you are."

"I am important. We all are. Has that not been the crux of the latest discussions we've had with Thomas?"

"Mm, yes. Important. Invaluable." Janus examines an imaginary speck of dirt on his gloves. "Where would we be without your priceless font of wisdom?"

"Okay, guys—" Roman steps forward, raising his hands—"I don't know what this is about, but—"

"I also don't know," Logan interrupts before Roman can finish, "Janus, why don't you tell us what this is all about?"

Janus mock-gasps, holding his hand over his mouth. "Logan? Doesn't know something? What a travesty!"

"Janny," Remus says, voice oddly serious, "don't do that. What's your beef with Logan?"

"Have you seriously not noticed?" Janus gestures around, mock attitude disappearing in a flash. "All of you, you're just letting him get away with it?"

"Get away with what?"

"He keeps insinuating that he's the most important character! On and on about how much we don't listen to him, or overlook him, and all of this and it's insufferable!"

"Whoa, wait, hang on—"

"No," Janus interrupts, "you know it's true."

"We're building up to his character arc," Roman says, "of course he's going to have a bit more prominence in the videos, we've been over this, we did the same thing for you! And Patton! And Virgil!"

"Oh, please, I never spent an entire meeting all smug with a stick up my ass about how important my character was to the narrative."

"I have never once," Logan says gravely, "attended any of our meetings with Thomas with a stick up my ass."

"But you don't deny being smug about being important!"

Logan's brow pinches and he straightens his tie, standing to his full height. "There is a difference between being smug about one's own self-importance and being confident in one's worth. Though I wouldn't expect you to know the difference."

Janus's expression twitches. "And why not, O Wonderful Logan who Knows All Things and Can Do No Wrong?"

"Simple. You embody the sense of self-preservation that only seeks to protect, defend, and better itself. Your very existence prompted the Selfishness versus Selflessness arc to begin with. It follows that you wouldn't recognize the difference between a healthy sense of self and an unhealthy one."

"Logan," Patton says, "that's not fair, he—"

He falters when Janus starts laughing.

"The truth," he crows almost triumphantly, "at last! God forbid we have nuance, god forbid anyone express themselves differently to you, god forbid someone try and offer insight when they're not you."

"If you'll recall," Logan says, voice sharpening, "all of your attempts at teaching something have ended in failure or other disastrous consequences."

"Because they were scripted to be that way. And oh, look, let's remember, who argued for that? Oh, that's right, it was you!"

"The closest you got to succeeding was when you impersonated me."

"And yet I managed to accomplish something that you didn't in all the episodes beforehand."

"Do you now understand how building stories works? It takes time to resolve issues, it takes work, you need pacing—"

"And a villain to defeat, right?"

Logan's silence is telling.

"That's what you've made of me, isn't it? Just some bad guy to be redeemed? A snake, tempting you all away from the path of righteousness," Janus hisses, glaring around at all of them, "while he gets to stand there unquestioned?"

"My role is to provide clarity. Yours is to obfuscate. Or have you forgotten, Deceit, the way in which you were introduced?"

It's Janus's turn to fall silent as Logan raises his chin.

"You impersonated Patton, Morality. You manipulated both Creativities to your own end, using Roman to ingratiate yourself with Thomas and Remus as the consequences for disobeying you. You held Virgil's past and secrets over him and yes," he finishes in a near growl, "you impersonated and attacked me."

He takes a step closer.

"You have always used us as a scaffolding to climb to get closer to Thomas, closer to the center of the videos. Don't forget that."

"And what exactly have you been doing?" Janus stares defiantly back at him. "Do you know how many videos are just you versus another Side? Do you know how often you're defined by your disagreements with all of us? Do you know how often you are the one who needs to be taught instead of teaching?"

He scoffs.

"You talk about what I've done to Roman and Remus but at least I know what I've done. You, you just pretend to be the impartial one who never takes a side, always about what's logical, what's right, never acknowledging the nuance in what you pretend is unquestionable."

"What do you want," Logan asks suddenly, "we finish filming and immediately you pick a fight with me, what are you getting out of this?"

"Because you're creating the very situations you keep decrying!" Janus throws his hands up. "Your whole arc, the things we've been seeding into the videos, they were by and large your ideas! Half of the things we pitch and script have come from your brain and then when we film and release the videos, you sulk about how much you're being overlooked and how frustrating it is to have us not listen to you!"

Logan draws himself up but remains silent.

"You can't construct the narrative to do something and then be all 'boo hoo, the narrative is ignoring me and overlooking me,' that's not true! Don't act like some terribly mistreated tragic hero when it's you who's put yourself in that situation." Janus glares at him. "I'm sick of you acting like you're the overlooked and underappreciated character when you're the one advocating for the plot points in the meetings like you're the most important character!"

"Well, maybe I am!"

The room goes quiet in the aftermath of Logan's shout. He steps even closer to Janus.

"You said it yourself, we don't examine how Logic can be subject to bias even though it claims to be impartial. We've yet to explore how important it is to examine your own biases that you don't even know about yet. So yes, maybe I am the most important when it comes to that, maybe I'm the only one who can do that."

"How dare you," Janus says lowly, "how dare you accuse me of being nothing but selfish when you gladly stand here and appoint yourself the most important?"

"I've never had to claw my way to importance using the misfortune of other Sides that I myself inflicted."

"And yet it's taken you this long to have an arc of your own?"

"You don't start with the biggest arc, you—"

"Oh, the biggest arc? Getting a bit self-aggrandizing, are we?"

"You would know! Was there a boundary you didn't cross on your quest to be featured more prominently?"

"No, because if you'll remember, we all participated in making sure my arc would work for everybody. I asked—"

"You're a new character! You needed to fit with all of us, you needed to—"

"Conform to what you wanted, I see, I see, oh, it's all becoming clear now. You're right, Logan, you really do provide clarity."

"I will not be blamed for the ignorance of others!"

"Oh, you're calling me ignorant now? You really do just devolve into insulting others' intelligence when you don't get your way, don't you?"

"It's not an insult if it's true."

"So I could call you an egotistical hypocrite and that wouldn't be an insult?"

Logan's eyes flare with orange. "Don't you dare—"

"Enough!"

A blinding flash of light fills the room and everyone winces. When it fades, Roman and Remus are standing between the two of them, Roman's arms out to Janus to hold him back, Remus's feet braced to keep Logan at bay.

"Both of you stop it," Roman says firmly, "you're both being ridiculous."

"Looks like we're not the only ones suffering from character bleed." Remus stands up, giving a warning look to Logan as he lets him go. "You two need to remember that we're not actually fighting each other, we're all working together on a project where we play characters with opposing viewpoints."

"But he's—"

"Stop," Roman says, raising his voice and cutting Janus off, "you just picked a fight for no reason. I don't care if your concerns were valid or not, there was no reason to act on them like that in front of everyone."

Janus glowers but lowers his head.

"If you felt like you weren't being heard in the meetings or if you wanted the opportunity to have a teaching role in upcoming videos—" here Janus's head snapped up, for he didn't realize Roman had realized— "you can bring that up at the meeting in a way that isn't this."

"And you," Remus says before Logan can look too smug, "can get right off that high horse of yours."

"But I—"

"You're not blameless in this either," Remus says, "Janus is right. You've been acting a bit too big for your booty shorts recently, especially in scripting meetings. You talk all big about how you want to write your arc and make sure that this story gets told and then you mope about how your character is getting ignored on camera. And then you treat us, not our characters, us, like shit because of the narrative that you wanted to write. You can't have it both ways."

Logan avoids Remus's gaze as he fiddles with his glasses.

"Now," Roman says, "we're all going to go get out of character and decompress for a while, and then when we're all ready, we can have a discussion about the videos. Whether or not we go to Thomas can be decided later. Yes?"

A small chorus of 'yes's from around the room. Patton and Virgil make eye contact and sink out quickly, probably to go decompress together and talk about what just happened while they redo Virgil's nail polish. Roman gives one last warning look to Janus as he opens his mouth to say something.

"I'm sorry, Logan."

Logan looks up.

"I shouldn't…I shouldn't have picked a fight like that. That was rude."

Remus looks at Logan who swallows. "I'm…sorry too. I…I've been excited about getting an arc after so long and I guess I...got over-excited."

"Go decompress," Remus says to both of them, "we can talk this out later."

Both of them sink out, each giving apologetic and hopeful looks to the other. As they go, Roman shakes his head.

"It feels fitting that we're the ones with the most fraught dynamic on camera and the least fraught off camera, doesn't it?"

"You're telling me. Part of me wants to send them to therapy before we keep working on Thomas's fake video one."

"Is that the Logan part of you or the Janus part of you?"

"The part of me that wants to go fuck around in the Imagination before we have to sit through another 'I feel' meeting."

Roman groans sympathetically before a manic gleam comes to his face. "Race you there!"

"Hey, no cheating!"

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[foodffs]

Noodles with Lamb Sauce (Laghman, 新疆拌面) Xinjiang laghman features chewy noodles served with a bold and rich lamb and tomato sauce that is bursting with flavor.

Recipe: https://omnivorescookbook.com/recipes/uyghur-style-noodles-with-lamb-sauce

[lesserknownbots]

CJ from Hello World (MSPFA) by phasedsun?

[389]

PORTO ROCHA

[theroyalweekly]

HRH The Princess of Wales in Southport today, on her first engagement since completing chemotherapy. It’s so good to see her!❤️ --

[shitakeo33]

よく「発明は1人でできる。製品化には10人かかる。量産化には100人かかる」とも言われますが、実際に、私はネオジム磁石を1人で発明しました。製品化、量産化については住友特殊金属の仲間たちと一緒に、短期間のうちに成功させました。82年に発明し、83年から生産が��まったのですから、非常に早いです。そしてネオジム磁石は、ハードディスクのＶＣＭ(ボイスコイルモーター)の部品などの電子機器を主な用途として大歓迎を受け、生産量も年々倍増して、2000年には世界で1万トンを超えました。

世界最強「ネオジム磁石はこうして見つけた」（佐川眞人 氏 ／ インターメタリックス株式会社 代表取締役社長） | Science Portal - 科学技術の最新情報サイト「サイエンスポータル」