#and Deceit is in denial but he does too

[damn-stark]

Chapter 25 Loss Of My Life

Chapter 25 of Moonlight

A/N- 💔🖤

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy and blood, ANGST, some fluff? Violence, death, and SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 469-490

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

How long can bliss last when it’s being poisoned by the knowledge of a dooming death?

Night soon turns to morning and you have yet to utter the reason why you came after Aemond. Then again even if the sun is miraculously out in the rainy slums of the Riverlands, for you it’s like the sun's light never rose and replaced the dark night. For you, the world is dull and dark as all that occupies your mind is the thought of his looming death.

Or so that’s what Helaena said.

You try to deny it. All night you tried to be in denial and think that she was wrong, but you know better. You know she’s never been wrong about a dream she’s foretold, so why would this one be any different? And it’s not like she’s deceitful to try and play it off that way. She’s right and no matter how many alternatives you try to think of, there’s no way around it.

Except if you leave and are never found again. It would hurt those you love to leave without a word or a trace, but if it saves Aemond from his doom then you can’t be against it. You aren’t…

Is he?

But are you really not against it? Leaving your mother behind? Vanessa? Your cousins, and…him too? Everything you have ever known?

One thing is dreaming of leaving. One thing is thinking about it without actually attempting to do it, and actually planning to leave is another thing. Are you really able to do it?

You think about the answer as you watch how the stream moves downriver. You’re meant to catch fish for lunch later, but so far you’re empty-handed and simply full of thoughts until the moment Aemond’s reflection appears on the water and pulls you from the depths of your unraveled mind.

“Should I still hold faith in your skill?” He says lightheartedly as he notices the lack of fish, making you stand up from your crouched position and flash him a very faint smile. You try to respond with something witty, but at that moment you’re so plagued by your poisonous thoughts that you can’t muster the energy to do so. You just lose your smile and look down at the ground as you fiddle with your sapphire ring.

Aemond takes note of your lack of response right away and can no longer ignore how quiet and melancholy you’ve been all morning.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond finally picks on your silence and long dragging frown.

You stop fiddling with your ring but keep your eyes downcasted, stealing a breath before you finally share what’s been plaguing you. You can’t avoid it anymore or it will destroy you from the inside out.

“Aemond…I came to find you because,” you pause and take another breath as if what you’re going to say is the most taxing thing ever. “Helaena told me…that you are going…to,” you stop and lightly shake your head as you can’t accept what you’re about to share out loud.

However, you do, you say it but with every word hurting every part of you. “…Die in fourteen days.”

Not a single breath of shock escapes past Aemond’s lips. He doesn’t utter a word of disbelief, or move to express any single emotion. He stays where he is and remains as still as he was, making you believe that he somehow didn’t hear you or that he’s just speechless, so you slowly trail your eyes up to read him, but you don’t catch what you expect. His lips are parted but when your eyes find his, he closes his mouth and looks at you with his eyes simply caught under a mist.

Nothing of what you just revealed seemed to have fazed him so you slowly work around that confusion and begin to assume that he already knew.

It looks like he does and you only just found out his secret. That’s how you read his face.

“You…”

“I knew,” Aemond finishes for you since can barely voice your response. “Helaena told me the night you found out about your father leaving.”

You’re hit with shock. Instead of Aemond, you are the one hit with disbelief that causes your eyebrows to knit together, and your lip to form into a deeper and more displeased frown.

“But,” Aemond interjects to try and immediately console you. “It’s not true. I am not going to die in fourteen days or at all during this war,” he says but lacks confidence, you can hear the attempt to sound so, but you can’t feel it oozing off him or displayed on his long face.

“She was wrong. You can’t trust the words of a mad woman, and Helaena has never been sane,” he adds but nothing of what he says works to comfort your aching soul or running mind—“I am going to outlive her prophecy.”

“Story,” you mutter under your breath and step forward with a spike in energy and take his hands to hold them within your hold before you drag your hands up his arms, and then slowly slide them up to his face as if taking your time to take note of the smallest details.

“We can leave,” you share a plan that you mindlessly have no more doubts about. You say the words to him and you know that you can in fact leave it all behind for him. You found your answer in his eye.

“Together,” you continue with a nervous smile as you stroke his face. “I need only fly to King's Landing to get Aerion, but after that we can take our dragons and escape to Yi-Ti, to somewhere far, somewhere beautiful where we can raise our children. Where we can have the rest of our family and not worry about any feuds between our families. We could build a keep of our own by the sea so we can teach our children to fish, where we need not worry about a thing. Where we only have to think about our love and our children. Our family.”

You nod softly in hopes that he will mirror your actions and escape away with you, but no matter how intently he listens and holds your glistening eyes, he doesn’t utter a word or even let his head twitch. Thus you continue.

“Our children wouldn't have to have anything stolen from them like things were taken from us. They wouldn’t have to yearn for what they deserve. They wouldn’t have to be bullied or be sent away. They would grow happy and have everything we didn’t. We,” you press breathlessly and put more force on the hold you have on his cheeks. “We would be happy. We would be together until the rest of our days.”

Aemond holds your gaze with nothing to say with neither his words nor his eyes. He looks at you with a soft and admiring gaze that lets him press his forehead against yours and makes you believe that he will finally give in to your proposal.

Alas as that relief and happiness start to spark and attempt to take down your agony and cure you of that poison, when he pulls back he looks at you with a confidence he couldn’t muster before. Thus that cure, that relief, and that joy die out just as quickly as they started to grow, making you desperate and causing those tears in your eyes to grow a lot thicker than before.

“Please,” you beg and stroke his cheeks again. “Please Aemond.” You cry.

Aemond tilts his head as he swallows back thickly and you read his refusal to accept your proposal, causing you to peel away from him and step back with a gasp.

“Trust me,” he finally gives voice to the thoughts that have been running behind his eye. “My love, trust that I will win. That I will live. You hold so much blind faith in the words of mad witches and women that you fail to see the reality. Vhagar is strong. Vhagar is powerful. Vhagar will kill Caraxes and Daemon. We will win this war and give our children that same happy life that you want them to have in Yi-Ti, here. I will not die.”

You want to believe him. You want to believe every word that just came out of his mouth. You want to believe Helaena is wrong, but you would be oh so stupid to do so. And you can’t be stupid, not when it comes to your sanity because if you let yourself believe what he wants you to believe the reality will destroy you. There’s already little left of you, you can’t handle more pain. Not like that. Not again.

“You believe that?” Your voice quivers.

Aemond stays quiet for a second before he nods stiffly. “I know it,” he deadpans.

You blink repeatedly as tears crawl out of your eyes and nod before you step back and throw out a response he isn’t expecting. “If that’s what you believe then so be it, but I will not stay and watch you fight because I know the truth. You are going to die if you don’t leave and I for one won’t be around to watch it.” You throw out with tears crawling down your cheeks before you turn swiftly in an attempt to storm away, however, Aemond is quick and captures your arm to turn you and face him.

He’s about to say something to counter what you just said but you pull your arm from his grasp and continue voicing your emotion-filled argument. “No. No! You don’t know what it’s like watching someone die in your arms. You,” your breath trembles. “You don’t know what it’s like hearing someone take their last breath. You don’t know what it's like to feel helpless as you hold the dying body of someone you love. You don’t—you don’t. You don’t know!” You exclaim and shove him back with force brought by your grief and frustration.

“But I do, I lived it. I live it every day in my dreams. Jacaerys dies again and again every day in my dreams. My father does too. Every night. I watch them die in my arms every night and every night I’m reminded that I couldn't do anything to save them. To save Jace,” you mewl and wipe away the stream of tears off the curve of your cheeks. “I won’t have you haunting my dreams too. Grieving you every day of my life will be enough pain already. I won’t put myself through more just because you have a death wish.”

Aemond draws in a deep shaky breath and brings his chin up to look down at you with a glossy eye and pain.

“You’ll leave then?” He mutters to the bitter air. “Back to her? You’ll leave me again for her?”

You let out a shaky sigh and grow softer this time. “It’s because I love you that I’m leaving,” you remind him of something he should know, but something that he himself isn't sure of after he heard your speech. It’s like your lack of belief in him pierced his heart. It aches.

“It’s because I love you so much that I have to go,” you continue to say. “I love you Aemond. Everyone I know says I shouldn’t, everyone I know says you’re bad for me, but to me, that’s all nonsense because I love you. I am in love with you and no one can ever replace you, but it’s because I love you so deeply that I can’t watch you die.”

Tears continue to run down your face, as well as down Aemond’s face. You both look at each other with such a deep and harrowing heartache that only people who love each other could ever express.

“If that’s what you believe then,” he says in a shaky voice. “You must know…no, you must remember that you are the love of my life. I will never and I have never loved anyone as much as I have loved you.” He nods gently, and you stand there before him and just cry as you take in his words—“the truth is you are the only person in this world that I love. You are my weakness and strength. My heart belongs to you and only you. So go if that’s what you want. I won’t stop you. I won’t fight you. Not anymore.”

You ignore the screaming pain and nod since you can’t form a single syllable before you turn and walk away, with every step you take not being able to stop weeping.

You clutch onto your chest in hopes that will ease the pain, but you can’t breathe. You can’t see anything but the cloudy field that your teary eyes leave.

Nothing makes sense and everything hurts. It hurts so much, so deeply that you can’t think or feel. You’re numb as you walk further and further away defiantly, but, with every step that defiance to leave faltering until it completely breaks and you find yourself at a stop before you can reach your dragon.

Albeit before you can turn and return to Aemond, you let thoughts cross your mind and every single one of them tells you to get on your dragon and return home or join the Northern and Rivermen army, but your heart, oh, your feeble heart takes you back to Aemond, and you find him as he’s heading back to the hut.

“Swear,” you cry out. “Swear that you will fight with your life. Swear that you will live and I won’t leave you ever again. I will follow you anywhere and everywhere. Just swear.”

Aemond looks deep into your eyes and feels baffled at first, but when he sees that you’re being sincere he responds with what you’re seeking. “I swear.”

You take a deep breath and nod stiffly. “Okay,” you mutter.

——

Minutes turn to hours. Hours to days and days turn to two weeks.

Two weeks of always trudging along with the memory of Helaena’s words of the future, of the fate that awaits Aemond, the infamous love of your life.

He says such a fate is impossible, be assured he keeps saying. Believe in me he says over and over again, and as much as you want to, as much as you want to look at this foretold future in the face and deny its cruel tellings, if you let yourself believe then you will be crushed. You’ve known it before and you know it now.

It’s like a stain you can never remove. It’s always there in your peripheral vision, annoying and coming to your attention every time you forget about it.

“What happens after? After you kill Daemon?” You query slowly as if speaking as such will grant you more time.

Aemond looks away from your intertwined hands and briefly meets your eyes. “We join Daeron. With Cole dead there’s nowhere to go but to my brother.”

That’s if Daeron is still alive. The two dragonriders went to stop him and two old dragons with more experience than Tessarion should be enough to have taken Daeron down. Yet you don’t have a way to know in the middle of the forest.

“I’m sad Ser Gwayne had to die too,” you comment and earn Aemond’s immediate attention—“he was nice and good to be around.”

Aemond huffs and you smile faintly at the water surrounding your naked bodies.

“But seriously now, what of Aegon,” you continue to wonder. “There’s been no word of him so my guess is he’s still alive. Besides, the worst ones always have good luck don’t they?”

Aemond starts caressing your knuckles and sighs deeply before he sits up straight in the tub and looks at you smugly. “What is a cockless man worth to a building legacy? To a kingdom? He’s worthless now. If he’s found I’ll make him pass the crown to me. I have an heir, he doesn’t. I have the ability to have more children to continue our legacy. He doesn’t. I’m worth more than him, he’ll be…thrown aside.”

Well he is right about that, a king needs his heir and by their terms, he doesn't have them nor can he have them anymore, so he’s not much use to anyone, but would he give up the crown so easily?

Doubtful but he is gone so who knows?

“I suppose you’re right,” you interject to not answer him with silence.

Aemond hums in return and lets his head loll to the side as he now takes his time to study your face carrying a permanent sorrow, as if your eyes have already seen the tragedy you have to suffer tomorrow.

“Once we meet with Daeron I suppose we would stay where he is until the twins are born. They’re almost here,” he says and makes you pick your eyes off the water to pass him a faint smile.

“What is it?” He doesn’t hesitate to pick up on your sadness that’s a lot more prominent today. Just a day before Helaena says he’s going to die.

“Just worried,” you share even though he knows because he’s heard it multiple times already and he can see it so clearly on your face.

“It’s misplaced,” he brings up quickly as if the words were recited. “I told you I won’t die soon. Not against Daemon. Not during this war.”

Your eyes soften as your grief threatens to bring tears to your eyes, but you refuse to cry so you just look at him with a saddened look that pulls his body to you so he can sit in between your legs and lay his head back on your chest.

“I’ll be okay,” he says softly.

You hold his gaze to seek for more reassurance, to clutch onto some sort of bliss to ease your aching chest, but as you look deep into his blue eye all you get in return is more agony. It’s such a burning thing. So heavy on your chest. So plaguing.

Why is it that Aemond tends to make you so sad? Is this what love brings? Is this what it has to offer? A lifetime of sadness? Is loving someone supposed to hurt so much?

Staying in the hut, counting down the days to the foretold day has made you open your eyes to this nonstop sadness he keeps cursing you with and it’s truly disheartening, like cold water to the naked body. It makes you wish at times that perhaps you should have stayed true to your screaming desires and left when he said he would continue fighting despite being told he would die. You should have saved yourself the pain, but you stayed like a love-sick idiot.

You stayed and stay despite your troubles, insisting on sticking by him, and following him away from the hut on dragonback because like a fool you make yourself believe those words he kept repeating over and over again in your ear.

There’s not even hints of realization penetrating your mind that his doom can be only a hairsbreadth away when Aemond is proven right in believing Daemon would be at Harrenhal, the jewel of the Riverlands. You believe the promises Aemond made you because you refuse to think Helaena is right even though you spot the Red dragon Caraxes resting by the blackened castle the moment you fly above it, casting large darkened shadows with your dragons that give a short false sense of belief that the grey cloudy day was shunned and taken over by the night.

You believe Aemond is right with the fragments that remain of your heart. You believe him even through the sorrow he’s made you feel because that’s what he asks of you. You believe because no matter what, you love him. And it’s because you love him that you grab his biceps with force and plead one more time before Daemon can meet you and Aemond in the field.

“There’s still time, Aemond. We can mount our dragons and leave. We don’t even have to go far, we can fly to Daeron. Just choose before he comes.”

Aemond slides his arms away from your grasp to be able to cup your cheeks and pull in closer to you. “Your head is still in the clouds dreaming. Just like when we were young,” he speaks softly, but with no sign that he heard a word you said—“I’m not running. Not from Daemon. Not from this fight. The climax of this war is finally at hand, I will not cower now when my victory is near. Can’t you feel it?”

A pit grows in your stomach and a mist already covers your eyes, but you don’t dare believe anything else but what he says.

“Now come on,” he adds as he pulls away and leads the way away from the dragons, revealing your presence to not only Daemon but Alys too. She trails behind him with her eyes stuck on you.

“Nuncle I hear you have been seeking us,” Aemond breaks the silence first, but can’t break through that tension building up as Daemon gets closer and closer with no hint of fear, disbelief, or hesitation. He looks as he always does, smug, but probably even more so now that Aemond is right across from him.

“Only you,” Daemon retorts but then his eyes find you. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Princess. I can’t imagine your mother's heartache though.”

You swallow back nervously and cast your eyes down to the ground out of shame.

“Who told you where to find me?” Daemon then continues to direct at Aemond. “The princess?”

“Where else would you be?” Aemond remarks sassily. “Besides, I was told to come here by my sister.”

You slowly bring your eyes back up and glance at Aemond before you look back at Daemon, catching Alys stopping a few paces away from where he stops.

“You were a fool to come alone,” Aemond continues to throw at Daemon and puffs his chest out with a boost of confidence. “Or are you going to let witches fight your battles now?”

Daemon steals a glimpse at Alys and shakes his head before he meets Aemond's gaze. “No, she’s merely a friend who told me you’d come meet me here. She was right, and I’m right in knowing that you wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t alone.”

Aemond scoffs and flashes him a smirk. “Yet you are, and here I am. You have lived too long, Nuncle.”

Daemon nods stiffly. “On that much we agree,” he deadpans before he starts to turn around, only stopping to look at you before he can give you and Aemond his back.

“Do right by your mother, if not just don’t bother returning home,” he gives it to you bluntly without hesitation or remorse. Rather he sounds concerned and looks it too before he gives you his back and starts to make his way to his dragon.

However, before he can get too far, you interject. “Daemon.”

Said man comes to a halt in his tracks and lifts his head but doesn’t look back, letting you know he’s paying attention regardless.

“Is there anything you want me to tell Baela or Rhaena? Or my mother?” You ask not because you’re certain he’ll die but just in case he does.

Albeit he doesn’t pass you any messages. He simply shakes his head and speaks up in High Valyrian about another matter. “<Be the great fire that you’re meant to be. I know you can.>”

Your lips part in surprise and you’re left behind completely taken aback by what he chose to say. It’s true that your last interaction was kind, there was no resentment from you. You actually…became acquainted, but despite that, hearing him be kind is still surprising. It makes you think that perhaps if you hadn’t been so adamant about hating him you would have enjoyed having him as a stepfather.

Maybe in another life…

In this one, once he’s put some distance between him and you, you turn to Aemond with a shaky breath and see him walking to you with Blackfyre in hand.

“I want you to take care of it while I’m fighting Daemon,” he shares and hands you the sheathed sword.

“Why?” You probe as you look at it before meeting his gaze with confusion, seeing him look at the other sword around his hip; the one you had done for him a while ago with the Valyrian steel chain your grandmother had gifted you.

“I have this one. I prefer this one,” he says and looks back at you, making you hum softly with a flustered smile spreading on your lips.

Yet that smile soon thereafter falters, and a tense frown replaces it as you’re overfilled with worry as the time to fight Daemon is upon him.

“You swore,” you whisper shakily and he drops his head as he closes the gap between you to gently place his hand on your cheek. “Aemond,” you call out for his reassurance. “You swore.”

He nods softly before letting his eye find your gaze, feeling at that exact moment his eye softening and his pupil dilating. You both want to say so much, you want to speak so many I love you’s, but what are words compared to your love-filled gazes already speaking a thousand words that otherwise would have gone unheard?

“Do you believe in me?” He asks and with those words asking for your confession that he already knows but needs to hear for reassurance, and you…whatever doubt you had, whatever fear you have been carrying since you heard his fate, is nonexistent at this very moment. You believe him wholeheartedly.

“I believe in you,” you reassure him and drop the sword to throw your arms around his neck and clash your lips against his.

Aemond quickly secures his grasp on your cheeks and deepens that kiss. He savors the sweet taste, making it easy for you to linger in the moment, in the passionate gesture, and take more and more from him in hopes that would convince him to stay.

Alas, his mind is made and after a while, when you both need to breathe he parts, leaving only a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“I love you,” you say breathlessly and a smile flickers on his lips.

“<I love you too,>” he redirects in High Valyrian and continues to look deep into your eyes as if trying to memorize every detail. All while you do the same with him to delay the inevitable.

If only you could stop him, but…reality comes knocking as he pulls away, stealing one last moment before he turns away from you and goes toward Vhagar, leaving you stranded where you stand unable to do anything but watch him reach his old dragon and scale her.

Once Aemond has mounted her he looks down at you from his saddle and flashes you a confident smirk, causing you to pass him a sweet smile in return and let it linger until he looks ahead and you’re no longer reflected in his eye.

Yet it’s only once Vhagar has taken to the skies that you pick up Blackfyre and turn to Alys.

“I know where we can watch the fight,” she says first as you can’t find any words to say, not at that moment. You find your breath and the ability to form words, but you don’t actually share them because you’re going to ask how this fight is going to end and she will give you the answer one way or the other, and you don't want to know so you remain speechless and follow her to the highest tower Harrenhal has.

A tower so high it almost touches the clouds, the wind is sharp and bitter, the lake looks like a glimmering sheet, and the view of both dragon and Dragonriders is clear. So clear and so close in fact it’s like you’re almost on top of your own dragon and there with them in battle.

Yet the distinction is clear right away when the first attack is given by Caraxes as he barrels down on Vhagar and Aemond, sinking his sharp teeth in her neck, and you not being able to do anything to help. You forcefully stand there frozen in shock and your breath stolen as if you had been hit yourself when you see the force Caraxes uses to slam into Vhagar.

Thankfully, the dragons are the only ones harmed, filling the air with their sharp and pained shrieks, and exchanging gashes with their piercing claws. Despite not wearing armor, Aemond is still unharmed and secured on Vhagar, making you fully and blindly lean towards believing him and believing that what you heard was false. It’s just not so foolish now, is it? Even though Caraxes refuses to loosen his jaw around Vhagar’s neck, your spirits are high because Vhagar is bigger, fierce, and battle-hardened.

The she-dragon jabs her claws in Caraxes’ flesh, making the dragon breathe out fire in hopes of burning her enough to stop, but she mirrors his blast and their fires paint the sky like an unsettling fiery storm. All whilst not burning any rider, but letting you and Alys feel heat waves crashing over you again and again until Vhagar shrieks so loud and so full of pain that it almost feels like the stones that make the tower shake beneath your feet.

And since both dragons are barreling towards the God’s Eye, you press your hands on the stone railing and lean over to look down as they sink down faster, letting you catch the way Caraxes’ teeth sink deeper in Vhagar’s flesh, pulling out a stream of blood from every wound.

In retaliation, the green beast only sinks her claws deeper into Caraxes’ belly and this time manages to slash his belly open. She then chomps down on Caraxes’ shoulder and tears away his wing, filling you with an urgency to see Aemond act against Daemon, or attempt something to strike the man down. Albeit both dragons are falling too fast, and neither of them attempt or can get away from each other just enough to gain more momentum. They’re falling fast and taking their riders with them.

Or so that’s what it seemed like because from one moment to the next you catch a glint against Daemon’s shining armor as he moves. Yes, Daemon sits up and swings one foot over his saddle, all while unsheathing his sword from his hip.

You part your lips to warn Aemond, to tell him to try something to escape the man’s wrath, but all you can do is draw in a sharp and shaky breath. The horror that hits you leaves you mute and keeps your breath, hostage, as you watch Aemond release one of his restraints to attempt to move away as he catches what Daemon is going to do.

Alas even as Aemond is on his last restraint, his attempts are futile, Daemon jumps off his dying dragon nearing the lake at a great speed, and gravity pulls him down to Aemond’s own saddle at a quick speed, causing your eyes to widen with despair and terror. Yet not a single word or breath continues to come out of you. You remain frozen and hopeful. You believe.

You have to believe in some miracle because Aemond is strong. He is skillful. He is smart. He can fight Daemon’s wild actions. You believe and believe with all your might. With all of you.

However, no matter what, or how much you plead, you witness Daemon swing his arm back before he pierces Dark Sister through Aemond’s remaining eye so hard, and so fast that the point rams out the other side, striking your hope and riddling you with shock and horror. You try to cry out his name, but a blood-curdling cry leaves your gaping mouth. And when the dragons at last slam into the water, your soul and those remaining fragments of your heart shatter.

Alys reaches out for you, she grabs your shoulder and tries to turn you around as she calls your name so you can calm down. Not for you but for the babies, but you’re so shocked by the scene you were just a witness that your first instinct is to refuse to accept the facts. Thus you push her away and run.

You run down the flight of stairs with your blood pumping wildly in your veins, leaving you unable to hear anything but the rushing blood, and leaving you unable to see a thing but what is right directly in front of you.

You’re so driven by your refusal to accept what you saw that your way to the lake is a blur. All that occupies your mind is Aemond. Aemond. Aemond, and Aemond.

He’s going to be okay. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’ll be okay. He promised. He promised. He swore!

Please, please, please…

Your feet hit the water and you snap out of your stupor to search the blood-tainted waters for any sign of Aemond either trying to swim away or still clung to his saddle. You don’t bother to keep an eye out for Daemon, you forget about his existence as you slosh through the bloody water.

“Aemond!” You cry out. “Aemond!”

A hand clutches your shoulder so you snap around swiftly but you’re greeted with Alys’ green eyes.

“No,” you mutter as you recognize that it’s not who you’re looking for. “No.”

“Stop, you can’t go any deeper. Daemon,” she pauses and you catch tears brimming in her eyes. “And Aemond are dead,” she says to try and make you come to terms with the truth, but you’re ignorant to the truth and angry that she would dare and make such a horrible claim. “There was no surviving that strike. And there’s no surviving that fall. They’re gone. They’re dead. Now come on, it’s not good for you or for—”

“I don’t care!” You yell back and slap her hand off you. “I don’t care!”

You turn back around and continue to trudge through the water which becomes heavier and heavier to manage as you go in deeper.

“Aemond!” You cry out. “Aemond…please…” you trail off into a broken whisper and come to a stop as the water hits your chest.

“Aemond!” You call out and search the waters, every perimeter that you can see, but dragon remains are all that float on the surface.

Yet even then you cling onto hope and wait, wait, and wait some more in hopes he’ll descend from the bloody waters and come to you to prove that he fulfilled his promise to you so as to not leave you alone in this cruel world.

He can’t leave you alone. He’s going to…survive so you wait to avoid feeling the sea of pain you’re holding back.

Eventually, the water once boiling by the steam coming from the dragon's blood is cool, and your body starts to shiver since you are not immune to the cold like you are to the fire and the heat’s touch, but still, you wait and avoid the truth, believing Aemond will rise from the depths of the water.

Alys continues trying to pull you away but again you push away her attempts. It’s not until you’re forcefully turned around and facing…Addam that you start to return to reality.

“A-Addam?” You call out in disbelief and raise your hands wrinkled by the water to touch his face and prove to yourself that he is in fact here, holding you. “Addam, wh-what are you…”

“I will tell you later, you just need to get out of the water. You’re freezing and shivering.” He scolds you and starts pulling you. You move with him but then stop and look back at the gruesome scene sinking in the water.

“But…” you trail off as you slowly start to grasp onto truth. “Aemond,” you breathe out and start to gape like a fish out of water as the truth starts to seep through.

“Oh,” you gasp and flashes of Daemon piercing his sword in Aemond’s skull and killing him at that instant passes through your head, making the undeniable slap you in the face.

“No,” you quiver and let Addam go to turn and face the remains sinking in the water. “Aemond,” your voice trembles, and your chest clenches, it hurts. Your entire being hurts. It all hurts.

“No, no, no…” you trail off and lose balance, but luckily Addam catches you and pulls you up. When you meet his eyes that look at you with pity all those emotions that you were pushing back burst through all the barriers you put up and flood your system, filling you with agonizing pain that starts from your chest and spreads like waves all throughout, shattering everything you are, what little you held onto, and leaving nothing but a sad little husk of your body. That’s what it did, Aemond’s death left nothing but a shell that’s riddled with the memory of pain. And all you can do is cry out, filling the cold air with your heartbroken wail.

“Come on,” Addam tries to lure you out of the water. He grabs your arm to drag you out, but you fall limp and your knees hit the lake floor.

“I can’t. I can’t,” you repeat and shake your head. “No. He promised. He promised me. He has to come back.”

Addam looks at Alys but she couldn’t even break through your stupor so she lets Addam continue to help.

“He’s gone, okay?”

You weep at the sound of his words and he hisses as he realizes his mistake.

“He has to come back to me,” you cry. “He has to. He promised. I love him. I can’t leave him here alone.”

“I know, I know,” Addam mutters and grabs your face so you have no other option but to look him in the eyes. “I hear you, but listen, he’s gone. He’s not coming back. But you. You’re breathing and your babes, his babes, they need you alive. All of them. Would he want you to die here?”

You shake your head as your falling streams of tears add to the lake's body. “I love him,” you mumble. “Please.”

Addam frowns and takes a deep breath without adding anything because what is there to add that you haven’t heard?

Yet his silence still pierces like a thousand swords and you’re riddled with more agony. “It hurts,” you weep. “It hurts.”

Addam nods. “I know. I know, now come on. Let’s get inside please.”

You look out to the water one more time in hopes you’ll see a glimpse of Aemond, but once again, you’re met with nothing, so you’re left doing as Addam says.

——

*LATER*

There below your feet lays a material you easily sink into. It’s grainy and soft, but when you lower your head to identify what you stand on, there’s more of the same darkness that consumes the entire empty hall you solely occupy.

You try to strain your eyes. You squint to catch a glimpse of anything that might clue you into where you are, but it’s like you stand in a void. Yet it’s not a deafening void. You’re not surrounded by silence, in the shadows that surround you, you hear someone humming a song. You just can’t pinpoint who it is you hear, but you hear the humming coming from the end of the hall.

“Who’s there?” You ask the void and step forward, but the moment you do, you’re startled when you catch something from the corner of your right eye light on fire. Something grand that finally illuminates your side with light, and when you quickly snap your head in that direction, you come to an immediate halt when you see that it’s a body set ablaze. But who’s?

You can’t tell. You can’t identify who they are, just that it’s a body. And they’re not the only ones, five more bodies are set ablaze around you, blinding you instantly, but finally providing a bright light with their hot fires that consume away the darkness.

When your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness that broke in the hall, the first thing you catch is what you stand on. At long last your curiosity is fed when you see that you stand on ashes. What are the ashes in particular?

You don’t know, you won’t, and the truth is you don’t want to know. You happily leave that as a mystery to not strain your withered self and instead drift your attention to a bloody set of footprints staining the stone ground.

They seem to lead forward, so you try to follow them with your eyes, but as your eyes scale to the next set of footprints, suddenly those too are set ablaze and light a path that your eyes follow down the room, letting you finally figure out that you don’t stand in some desolate void. You finally lift your head with the intent to watch the blazing path and see that you’re standing in the middle of the Red Keep’s throne room, but that’s not all. At the foot of the stairs that lead to the Iron Throne sits an abandoned wooden throne.

No one before, and no one that you know has used a wooden throne. Not even your grandfather Viserys. There’s no need for it when the great throne is standing behind it in all its glory. Why is it there?

That’s a question you do want to feed an answer to, but alas, as you mindlessly walk down the blazing path guiding you ahead and setting the ends of your gown on fire, that wooden throne is also sustenance to the great fire. Its ravenous flames quickly swallow the wooden throne whole, making you stop in your tracks and look at it with more confusion. What does this all mean? Why are you here surrounded by fire?

You need to know, yet more questions infiltrate your mind when you catch that someone is sitting on the Iron Throne. You can see the soles of their bloody feet hanging down from the great throne. They’re the ones who are filling the hall with their humming. Can it be? Only one person comes to mind when you think of someone sitting on that throne.

“Mother?” You call out in the burning hall, and the humming at last comes to a stop.

You slowly scale your eyes up the throne to look at her in the eyes, but when your eyes land on the face of the person sitting on the throne, you gasp and stumble back when you see that…it’s you.

You’re sitting in that throne room with your blood-covered hands lazily hanging off the armrests and carrying something hidden in the shadows.

You sit there comfortably with a scowl on your blood-stained face. You sit there with your nose in the air, and your gleaming eyes reflecting the fires that surround the hall and stand between you on the floor and you on the throne. You sit there with a chainmail veil hanging off your head dripping blood on your cheeks, making it look like you’re crying blood. You sit there…it’s you that’s reflected in your eyes. And the person sitting on the throne at last acknowledges you standing baffled on the floor and begins to lift their bloody hand, pointing Aegon the Conqueror's blood-dripping crown at you.

You don’t tell yourself anything, you just menacingly point the blood-dripping crown at yourself, causing your breath to hitch and your widened eyes to stay focused on the crown.

There’s so much you could say, but there’s no words you can actually form and voice. You stand in stunned silence until you blink as your eyes go dry with how long you were staring without blinking, and you’re ripped away from the incredibly confusing scene and brought back to a firelit hall in Harrenhal, watching Blackfyre glimmer against the fire warming the hall.

Now you should go mad with confusion, you should be shocked and demanding to know what it is that happened, but alas you’re at Harrenhal, there’s only one explanation to what you just saw, so you at last lift your eyes off the sword and look the culprit right in their green eyes.

It was Alys. There’s no question about it. There’s no need for reassurance, she passes you a faint knowing smile, and with that gesture alone you know it was her that let you see that vision. As for why? She won’t say, no matter how much you ask. You have to figure out the meaning by yourself or wait for a version of that vision to come to life because it is coming. As to when well that will come to you soon enough.

“How are you liking the Riverlands, Addam?” You hear Alys probe.

“Well they're…wet,” he says lightheartedly with a small chuckle. “I have been here for fourteen days and I have never seen more rain in my life than I do here. How do you do it?”

“When you live here as long as I have, you grew to miss when it’s not raining,” Alys says back. “So is it safe to say you would not find a home here?”

Addam scoffs. “No, no. Perhaps visit once in a while, but no. I’d miss the sea, and the sun.”

Alys laughs softly and then adds something aimed to make you interject. “You and her are the same, just like cats, only prowling when the sun is out of hiding.”

You give no reaction, you don’t even acknowledge her or anything besides. If Addam and you weren't by the fireplace neither he nor Alys would be able to tell that you exist in the hall, you blend in with the silence and the stillness of the room as you remain too grief-stricken to speak or move a muscle. You just keep looking at the Valyrian sword that you hold against the floor as if it carries some kind of hope that you will be able to see the man you lost one more time.

“Here,” a whisper captures your attention but doesn’t make you move to look at it, you remain frozen until a bowl is placed above the handle you keep clutched—“It’s warm, and Alys says it’s your favorite stew of hers.”

You blink and look over at Addam now sitting beside you, his gaze not riddled with worry, but an attempt at reassurance with his eyes soft and only focused on you.

“Eat please,” he insists gently whilst he slides his hand down to wrap it around yours and give it a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t say anything, he just offers you a comforting smile before he pulls his hand away and remains in his new seat. You then take this stolen moment to really look at him and finally come back to that question he never answered before; why is he here?

“Addam, what are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse as you finally find a reason to make yourself present.

Albeit he doesn’t answer right away, he looks at you and his lightheartedness fades but only for a flickering second because he then offers you the same assuring smile.

“How about I tell you tomorrow when you’ve rested okay?” He offers

You immediately shake your head and press him, finding the motivation to focus on something else besides your grief. “No, I’m leaving today. Tell me now.”

Addam’s face falls completely and he then shares a concerned look with Alys before he shifts in his seat and clears his throat, watching you scoop a spoonful of your food before he gives you what you asked for.

“Well…I’m here at Harrenhal because I heard the fight from the Isle of Faces, and when Seasmoke and I went to check we saw Caraxes and Vhagar…”

You swallow back thickly as you physically react to the name that reminds you of Aemond.

“…crashing in the lake. I didn’t know if Daemon was alive, he might have been and he might have needed my help, so I came and that’s when I saw you.” He shares but that only answers part of the question.

“Okay,” you drag out as you nod your head and take another bite of food, taking your time to chew and think about what he did give you before you swallow and follow up with more. “But what were you doing in the Riverlands in the first place? Why were you at the Isle of Faces? You’re meant to be home with the Queen. Are Ser Hugh and Ser Ulf back? Is Daeron dead?”

Addam blinks and glances down, shaking his head just slightly before he answers verbally. “No, and no…Ulf and Hugh never returned,” he pauses and he looks back at you with a slightly angry look, but mostly his face is contorted with distress. He then says your name and reveals what you didn’t know because you were with Aemond in a hut for fourteen days.

“Hugh and Ulf betrayed Queen Rhaenyra. They betrayed our side and instead aided Team Green in taking Tumbleton.”

You shake your head, but not because it’s unbelievable. You can’t be shocked over something that was expected. You’re just caught in disbelief because it happened and you weren’t there for your mother. It happened and you weren’t there to help her deal with that aftermath or a plan for a counterattack.

“The Queen was so struck by the news that she also suspected me of being a traitor,” he keeps sharing and this time the news is starting to sound unbelievable—“She sent guards to take me for questioning and arrest me, but Lord Corlys warned me just in time to escape,” he says with more of a droop of emotions in his voice. “That’s why I’m here in the Riverlands because I ran, but,” he presses with more stress and his eyes wide and desperate. “I did not scheme with them. I did not betray your mother or our side. I didn’t know what they had in mind. You have to believe me.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, making him believe that you also believe he was in cahoots with the other two, but that’s far from the truth, that doesn’t cross your mind whatsoever. You’re just going through the disbelief in your mind about your mother succumbing to panic and pointing fingers so quickly when other times she would hang onto the hope that he wasn’t like the other two. You have to wonder what she thinks of you now, and what made her turn her back on Addam so easily.

Moreover, with what you know now a more urgent need to leave Harrenhal to do what you need to do grows within you.

“I believe you,” you assure Addam as you wrap your hand around his arm to give it a comforting squeeze, hearing him sigh with relief as he offers you a relieved smile.

“I know you wouldn’t do that. It’s unfortunate that we lost Vermithor and Silverwing though. Alys,” you drift your attention to her poking the fire. “Do you know the casualties?”

“The Rivermen and the Northnermen took a heavy loss. It was a bloody battle, your numbers were depleted when the two dragonriders turned their cloaks,” she shares without hesitation, making you tighten your grip around Addam’s arm out of concern that begins to gnaw at your chest—“That’s all I know.”

You have the need to ask about…Cregan. He barges into your mind, but if he were gone she would have told you, no?

He must be okay.

“That only means that Daeron and his army are closer to King's Landing, and with three dragons, victory is on their side,” you mutter with growing frustration.

“We need to join the Rivermen and the Northnermen,” Addam cuts in, catching you by surprise. You would assume he would pressure you to return home where you’re not exposed to high threats, but you heard him right, he said ‘we’.

“We need to rebuild the armies and counterattack before the Greens make a move on Kings Landing,” he finishes with confidence rising with each word.

“We do?” You press him and he then turns his head and meets your gaze with a hint of hesitation before he sits up and nods confidently.

“We do. The Green men advised me toward taking that path,” he shares, making you look over at Alys to ask for confirmation as if she was a part of that conversation, but she just shrugs and turns away with her hair swiftly turning with her.

“They,” Addam pauses and when you return your attention to him his eyes dig deep in your soul with a sense of fascination. “…they put my hand against a Heart Tree and that’s where I saw you as clear as day bathing in fire without getting hurt. You were a part of its power. You were the fire that brought destruction to Tumbleton.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief but don’t dare question him or his vision. You are going to ask about the Green men, but not now. Right now you are going to back his decision.

“Good. I wasn’t going to return home either, I need to make it right for my mother,” you say as you hold his gaze with the same fiery determination that now inflames your kindred souls. “We leave today.”

Addam reacts with hesitation this time and pulls back to question you. “Are you sure? I'm sure the army won’t move with the losses they took. We can meet up with them tomorrow morning.”

You shake your head and turn around to face the fire and continue eating. “No, we leave today. I don’t want to stay here longer than I have to.”

Not because of Alys. You wish you could spend more time with her, but alas there’s things you have to do and now this place will forever be a reminder of the loss of your life. Aemond will haunt you here, and you can’t just sit and think about how he was ripped away from you or you’ll cease to exist. That’s why you’re leaving today. That’s why you need to join Cregan today…at long last you will at last reunite.

The mere thought revives something within you. Something you thought was lost.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- 👀

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber

[orange-imagines]

a five-year-long romantically charged pining phase you say……. heh. well.. would you happen to have any thoughts on how Leonard would act during that?

Relationship: Romantic

A/N: One hot plate of mutual pining coming right up o7

God help him, tbh.

As previously mentioned, he's not used to the presence of strong, long-term romantic feelings, especially those directed at one of his best friends. It would take him a while to even realize that the things he's feeling aren't platonic (he just thinks you're a really good pal for a while), but once they click he starts acting very weird.

Len: I always act stupid around people I like. You: But you act stupid around me all the time? Len: Yeah. Don't read too much into that.

Not to be dramatic, but he basically goes through the five stages of grief. And he's stuck in denial for a long time.

He doesn't like the idea that things could change between the two of you if his feelings came to light, or, even worse, that you might think less of him because of what he feels. So he represses all of his sappy romantic urges for literally as long as possible, as bad as he is at keeping them hidden.

Danny and Mick pick up on it very quickly. They know their friend and know when he's acting weird for no reason, and after about five seconds of interrogation, Danny immediately calls him on being into you ("That's all this is? You like Y/N? Fuck's sake, I thought you were dyin'!" "I AM. FUCK OFF").

You'll definitely notice him being a bit more abrasive and standoffish toward you for a few days, similar to the way he was when you first met- not that he wants to, it's just his natural defense. If you ask him about it he'll apologize and try to manage himself better, and if you press him he'll end up venting about "his head feeling all screwy lately". He won't give you any details because he'd rather saw his own leg off than admit he has a crush on you, but he appreciates you listening to him regardless. It does make him feel better.

As much as he tries not to let his feelings get the better of him, they often slip through anyway. He'll end up looking out for you without even thinking about it, taking extra steps to make sure you're alright during missions, shielding you with his body if things go wrong, insisting he patch your wounds up himself afterward. He also lets you borrow his jacket whenever it's raining. Yeah. The ultimate show of affection (Dan and Mick were SHOCKED when they first saw you leave with it. Leonard doesn't even let them touch it, yet he's fully letting it out of his sight with you. He's down bad).

Any flirting you attempt will send him out of his mind, even if he seems to take it in stride in the moment. He enjoys bantering with you and maintaining a snarky back-and-forth, so a lot of times he'll start on something like that, and it'll end with the two of you hardcore flirting. He can be suave when he wants, but when there's obvious romantic tension in the air because of it he chickens out every time, usually clapping you on the back before going off to join the others. He's not oblivious to how much he fumbles moments like that with you, and he overthinks it all the time whenever he's alone.

He doesn't know what the right answer is when it comes to you. It used to feel natural, and in most cases it still does, but he's largely out of his element when romance is involved and second guesses himself every time. You might think he's sending you mixed signals or leading you on, but I swear he's not, he's just bad at this. He wants so badly to be near you and to feed into the feelings he gets from it, but it's really hard for him to shake his fears. Abandonment, deceit, and betrayal have all taken their toll on him, and although he knows you've never given him any reason to doubt you, sometimes his worries just get the better of him. He doesn't want to get his hopes up for something like this that feels too good to be true, but eventually all his feelings are going to become too much for him to stomp down. They'll explode on him, and you, and when he finds out that you wholeheartedly reciprocate it'll be one of the happiest days of his life.

[clydesavage-thefox147]

[Part 2 to Big Long Awaited Theories. This one is a bit..Roman slandering so be warned, be civil and hear me out here please, sorry if it's a bit jumbled heh] (Part 1 here)

Unpopular opinion/theory here but:

I think Roman sided against the callback because if he picked it, he would be supporting Janus who was seen as a villain at the time by everyone else, so he wanted to avoid any more affiliation. His need to be the hero and feed his broken ego was bigger than achieving a life-long dream.

Don't believe me? Then what does this line mean?

Furthering this belief, there's a notable pattern throughout season 2, particularly to start with Fitting in. When Roman was assigned the role of Slytherin in the group, he was rather taken back. He refused to believe it because he pushed the understanding that Slytherins were evil. This then followed with him saying "I'm not evil!" then Virgil(in a pretty Janus sounding tone) saying "Says who?". (Also coincidence how the snake affiliated house gets called evil here).

Then cut to the episode CLBG. I find it quite funny that Roman felt like Janus used him during this episode even though Roman himself was the one who stated FIRST that acting was like lying AND started the idea of disguising as Joan to help Thomas practice. Janus only nudged him to do it on a stage. Then later into the episode, Roman states about Janus "I hate this guy and his creepy snake face, however he is very kind". First off, making fun of Janus for his snake traits that he has little to no control over having. And two, blatantly admitting that he believed Janus' flattery. He left the window wide open for what happened later in SvS.

Speaking of, in SvS, it was clear that Roman wanted the callback desperately and so did Thomas. Roman is part of Thomas' personal dreams and goals. Janus knows this. Roman was willing to give Janus the benefit of the doubt and let him explain his side of the situation which Virgil obviously wasn't too happy with. Throughout the court case, Janus' flattery was his way of keeping Roman on his side, the best overall decision that was the callback while simultaneously pointing out the denials of all the other sides and Thomas. He eventually got so fed up of them beating around the bush that he made Thomas finally admit that he wanted to pick the callback instead. Like I said before, Janus knew this beforehand so he did low-key rigged the case in favor of the callback choice. This is a positive form of manipulation called a "Contrivance". Something meticulously planned piece by piece in favor of a desired outcome. Virgil I guess was right about it being rigged. But, when all was said and done and Janus was so close to winning the case, Roman pulled out last minute, making Janus reasonably angry. Roman stated "It is my sworn duty to help Thomas achieve his hopes and dreams, but Thomas wouldn't dream of attaining his hopes through deceitful means" following with Janus pleading that that wasn't true. But, Roman's line proves that he picked the wedding to avoid committing what was believed to be a selfish act. You can see how desperate Janus was for the others to see his perspective, even benching Logan in the process to have his lesson heard instead(then did it again in POF). Janus wanted the others to see that they were blowing this simple problem out of proportion but no one cared. He knew the answer was obvious but everyone refused to agree.

Then cut to DWIT, the following episode where Remus was debuted for the first time. Many believed that Remus was sent out, out of pettiness on Janus' part which could be possible. If Roman wanted to be a good person, Janus was going to show him(and Thomas) that it wasn't so easy. Remus made Roman realize and admit that he doesn't want to end up like him. Furthering why I think he made the decision he did.

Then cut to Healthy Distractions, where I find it funny is that here's Roman trying to avoid villainy...but commits petty theft and voter fraud. Roman literally said "I was gonna rig the vote anyway". So much for trying to avoid what he literally talked about an episode prior. Sure, he could've stolen the hat out of a joke but it still is petty(both be petty bitches).

Then..cut to POF: SvS Redux. This is where a lot of this come into play. One noticable thing is within the song. Not only was the line I previously stated there but the lines leading up to it paint a different picture.

Ro: "And no one wanted you to go more than the that slimy snake"

Th: "Who pushed to do the egocentric thing auditioning" (Ro: "Yep that's Deceit!")

Now, correct me if I'm wrong..but don't you have to audition before you get a callback? And isn't Roman the physical representation of Thomas' Ego? And didn't Janus point out Egoism in SvS? AND didn't Thomas called Roman " a bit of an egoist" in the 2017 behind the scene vid? Yes. All yes. So, this can only mean that Janus, in the few months that he and Roman were on decent terms with one another, must've influenced him to get Thomas to audition(or influence Thomas to get Roman involved) since Janus is a part of the 'selfish desires'. In this case, Janus is within his right to be mad at Roman. He spent time setting up the perfect end-goal for Thomas here as a show of good faith and intentions, but Roman shoved it aside because the other sides believed Janus' was still no good.

Then after the song, when Patton was struggling with his rhetoric of morality, some moments seemed to correspond with the court case. Two of these moments Roman himself brought up in conversation. Roman stated the view of how it shouldn't matter why the prince saved the kingdom as long as the citizens are safe(in this case the prince did it for a reward). However, Patton didn't like that conclusion, claiming that that doesn't make the prince a good person. Which then prompted Roman to respond with somber expression "Yeah probably not". Roman wants to avoid any villainous affiliations. But, he also wants the praise of being a hero for his own external validation which he's desperate for(no wonder Janus' flattery almost worked). His reward was that praise and he got that for a short time.

But, according to Patton, this is a selfish act. Roman has stated that he is "a proponent of following one's heart" It would make sense to appease the heart and morality to remain on his good side. However, Roman said shortly after "if it's not helping to fulfilling one's longing, then what is the point?" Patton wasn't fulfilling Thomas' goal of finally being a star. Roman didn't really like that. But, to avoid upsetting Patton, he followed along with him. Hell, Patton was the one who gave Thomas the inspiration to even start video creation. Another incentive for Roman to follow along with him. Double Hell, Roman initially didn't like Patton's idea of using puppets back in LNTAO but then immediately flipped script which Virgil pointed out. Patton definitely contributed to Roman's final decision on the wedding. Roman thought that he was the problem for making Thomas want a 'selfish desire' over friendship, even though this desire wasn't really a big issue at all(and he sent Thomas to wedding as punishment for wanting said desire). Which prompted Patton to beg for Roman to stay on his support team. No wonder when Patton started to view Janus in a different light, Roman got immediately defensive, trying to push that Janus was evil and he wasn't. He didn't want to feel like his decision was for nothing but it ultimately was. Janus states "it served no one" after giving Roman some credit for his sacrifice. But, if that sacrifice was for the praise and glory of the others for his heroism...that's just as selfish as going to the callback. No wonder Roman was upset when Patton thought it was bad. So, why is Roman mad at Janus when he should direct some of his anger at Patton for contributing to his final decision and the moral confusion. Is he afraid of hurting his feelings? Also tagging on, the same episode he said he followed the heart, Roman said that Patton should only stick to knowing the difference between right and wrong and leaving the rest to them...well, look where that took them. Lead Patton to guilt Roman into making him feel bad for pushing Thomas to be dishonest and dishonorable which just made him more confused.

The second thing being that Roman stated the Trolly Problem. The situation of deciding to save the larger group of people or the one person. Roman did this exact same thing the court room. He had to pick between siding with the others (the larger group) on the wedding..or side with the one person(Janus on the callback). He picked the former and let Janus get hit metaphorically.

It all collimated in the final scene between him and Janus. Janus being vulnerable with revealing his name as an attempt to gain trust..all to get laughed at and made fun of. Janus retaliated with the now infamous line "Thank God you don't have a moustache, otherwise between you and Remus, I wouldn't know who the evil twin is". Roman couldn't take it. He can dish out all these insults but the second it's him who's insulted he shuts down or gets pissy right back. However, maybe Janus was right with his statement. I mean, there's been only two confirmed times Roman was ever influenced by Remus. One was the "Naked Aunt Patty" line from the 12 Days of Christmas vid and the bubbagump shrimp line in the carol itself. But, there's been moments where it seems that Roman had no influence from him and it was all his wording. Like how he responded to Janus' pinata metaphor with "I believe he's saying that you beat someone up and rob their unconscious body". Or how in one scene in CLBG, as Joan, he stated "-like your weird habit of gluing your butt cheeks together". Or how in Moving On pt 2, he was all about that butt dial lie and wouldn't stop. And finally, remembering way back to the QnA, when they were asked if they all had YouTube channels, Roman said quote "Epic fail compilations of all the horrible deaths my enemies incur after I impale them". Roman...wanted to film himself..killing people..to post on YouTube. For what? To laugh? To gloat? Does this not sound creepy to any of you? And just adding his petty theft and vote rigging and all his bullying insults up to now...yeah Janus' retort holds a lot of weight.

Another note is that Roman has been getting pretty close with Virgil lately. What's noticable here is that Roman's might be playing favorites. Notice how when both Virgil and Janus revealed their names, they were both equally vulnerable. Virgil revealed his name because he had already gained trust with the others but Janus did it to gain trust with them. Roman gave Virgil congrats for his admittance and bravery and only laughed at the Virgin joke Patton said. But, Roman laughed and insulted Janus? Even though both Janus and Virgil are of dark side origin? What makes Virgil more special? Especially when Roman hated Virgil to begin with and now they're best buddies...then he supported Janus at first and now flat out hates him. He pulled an Ono reverse card on them. Roman mainly chilling with Virgil now because they both hate Janus is definitely 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'. Hell, in FWSA, Roman and Virgil were calling Thomas a liar constantly after he accepted Janus. Meanwhile if Roman continued to do so, he would be in the same boat. Mind you, only Patton has accepted Janus completely. Thomas and Logan are 50/50, and Roman and Virgil are against it entirely.

Janus is aware of the others' denials, lies and desires. He's aware that Roman is in denial. Roman wants to believe he made the right decision but he knows he didn't. He keeps moping and whining over how he wants to be happy and achieve his dreams but he lost that opportunity because he made a stupid sacrifice. If he was confident in his choice, he wouldn't be acting this way. Janus knew Roman would be hurt if they missed the callback. And him behaving this way long after just proves it. Janus said right to his face in the court room "You want that callback so back and it will CRUSH you if we miss it". This was true. And if Roman were to say that he did make a good decision he'd basically be lying and stooping to Janus' level. So both ways he's screwed and played. Roman is also very fraudulent when it comes to his facade. He likes to act like he's this brave prince who isn't insecure and can handle his problems alone when that is clearly a lie. Janus wants Roman to be honest with both himself and the others, the others know by now that Roman is very insecure so what else is there left to hide? Janus would know about facades..and he sees right through Roman's and so does everyone else. Tagging in here, Janus' 'wroammin' spelling meant 'remorse' signifying that Roman was giving Janus sympathy while also showing Roman's imposter syndrome(alongside other times he corrected people on his name). This wasn't Janus insulting his name first, this was him proving a point.

To add on, Roman turned to Janus after he said "I thought I was your hero" and Thomas replying "You are". Roman trusted Janus' confirmation. Janus' nod was confirming that Thomas is telling the truth but Roman only believing Janus was lying, he took it as Janus confirming Thomas was lying. Or, Janus was sadly confirming that Thomas was in fact lying. But I think the former is most likely. Roman now believes he lost his "hero" title..which honestly might be a good thing, maybe he'll try to earn it back in a very honorable way without letting the power go to his head. His bullying and grandiose behavior was his way of making himself feel important when he deeply felt like he wasn't good enough. Roman is so desperate for external validation because he can't love himself without it and Janus is trying to tell him that. Quit acting like you love yourself and actually..do so.

In conclusion, I believe Janus was more in the right here but if we must compromise, they both must reach an understanding and an apology. My theory stands that Roman sided against Janus to avoid any further association for the reward of heroic praise.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Feel free to correct me or change my mind if you so please but remain civil.

Part 3 soon.. maybe.

[bubbleonice]

Carlos Sainz / Rebecca Donaldson / Isa Hernaez

So let:s dive into this and see what is going on in this love triangle. and go further deeper into the connections, and whatever else the cards want to tell us.

Carlos:

Justice reversed:

 The general meaning of Justice reversed indicates that you are either not getting what you deserve or on the other extreme, are involved in some activities which are causing harm to others. The worst thing about the Justice tarot in reversed position is that you are not even ready to take accountability for your actions.

Justice cards show a certain kind of blame game going on between . The Justice reversed in love and relationship readings is a clear indication that it is because noone is ready to take accountability.

Ace of wands reversed:

indicates trials and tribulations that you will face in the near future. You might not have any direction, which leads to being uninspired or unmotivated. At this point of your life, you might not know what you really want to do. Maybe there has been a sudden and unexpected change and he might be struggling to adjust.

When the Ace of Wands Reverses, we now see a very definite ‘thumbs down’ signal. When the Reversed Ace of Wands appears, we might be looking at a missed opportunity or chance. There are definetely some sort of regret going on here. Time to work on releasing the old so that one can embrace the new. Both you and your life may need a total make-over. So yes, Carlos definetely is struggling with the new and still attached to the old, and needs to release the old in order to embrace the new in his life. He might or might not have convinced others but is it possible he hasn’t convinced himself? Is there a hesitation about the direction he say he want to head in and what he want to do? he might be conflicted and desperately frustrated.He knows he should be doing something, but what that something is he hasen’t got a clue. 

8 of pentacles reversed:

The Eight of Pentacles Reversed indicates a lack of commitment. The Eight of Pentacles Reversed can suggest that he is bored in his relationship?  Does it all feel like too much hard work?  Does he really love his partner (I sould think this apply to his current partner) or is he just with her for the rewards that may be gained? 

Isa:

Knight of Swords:

Swords is associated with thought, intellect, mental strength, and integrity. They can also represent conflict, hardship, and misfortune.

Swords is associated with thought, intellect, mental strength, and integrity. They can also represent conflict, hardship, and misfortune. Big moves, impulsive decisions and following your gut, all while keeping your bigger vision in mind, will be the key to success right now. 

8 of cups reversed:

Looks like she has some trouble moving on. Her life is afore her, and she`s made every attempt imaginable to stand still. In this denial of life and refusal to move on, she is creating an air of unhealthy habits and behavior around her. Sometimes this card can even highlight being in a state of denial. Plasticity will no longer cut it. Take the time to seek quiet. She needs to bravely turn her attention inward, to any place within her heart that feels empty, insecure or unfulfilled. Self-investment will fill this empty place, not the attainment of something “out there.”

Rebbeca:

9 of pentacles reversed:

gold-digger, marrying for money/ status, sex trafficking/exploitation/work, dishonesty, deceit, theft, property damage, con artist, scams, cheap, superficial, no style. Well, this doesn`t sound good.

This card will appear often for people who are in a relationship for the wrong reasons, for example those who marry for money and status rather than love. It can simply be an indication the relationship has become too focused on the material or superficial aspects of life.

Queen of pentacles:

the Queen of Pentacles represents high social status, prosperity, wealth, luxury, success and financial independence. Pentacles represent coins/money, so again we see a link to money in this connection .

So from reading the cards combined, seems like Carlos and Isa still have some issues. Carlos has his regrets and Isa is in denial. Rebecca on the other hand seems to see this opportunity as a personal financial gain for her. I`m going to pull a few oracle cards to clarify the connections a little bit more.

Carlos:

Time: Im afraid its too late to take action

Unappreciated: I felt like you didn`t care

Isa:

Space: I need more time to think

Hope: I haven`t given up on us yet

Rebecca:

Unsatisfied: I am not happy where things are going

Unworthy: You`re a better person than I am

I guess the cards are pretty self explanatory, but just to clarify my interpretation. Carlos and Isa faced a sudden and unexpected change, and neither one of them is ok with the changes. Carloz feels remorse while Isa is having a hard time moving on. However, they are both trying to do the best they can. She trying to find peace within herself, and him trying to make his new relationship work. Rebecca seems to not be too happy wih how things are progressing. She can feel Carlos slightly distancing himself. And I understand my cards correctly, she is more into this due to money and prestige, and not so much for the love.

I hope you enjoy this reading. And please keep in mind that this is done for entertainment purposes only. I use tarotcards and oracle cards actively in my readings, as well as my intuition. Energies come and go, what is relevant for today’s reading might change in a few weeks time. But some aspects will always remain constant and the same. Thank you.❤️

[happynowyo]

Free choice

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Aemond x Lucerys

Summary: The new generation of gods follows the same path, so Aemond and Luke should face their own fate as the new versions of Hades and Persephone.

Warnings: angst (but with happy ending in the second part)

Word count: 2k

Aemond didn't like to go up to the surface and pretend to be someone ordinary, clutching a glass of wine in his hand at some fancy bar in New York, Berlin, or Sydney. Aegon was excited about such pastimes and travelled easily through countries, hiding from his mother's strict supervision, but Aemond was too used to the dark solitude of the underworld to feel comfortable among the noisy crowds of the livings, who annoyed him with pointless clutter.

He looked to the core and felt the presence of death everywhere he went, and invariably brought a plume of asphodels around him. Light and quick to envelop, like a fog, granting a moment's forgetfulness.

He had once worried about being tormented by his own loneliness, as the ruler of Hell he was doomed to be in the underworld, avoiding the feast of life. No fun, no joy. Aemond remembered the grief and sympathy that splashed in his mother's eyes when she escorted him away for the first time, using Otto as a guide. God of deceit and trickery - Aemond had mentally blamed his grandfather hundreds of times for giving him blind hope for the best, fueling his belief for years that he might get something different. There were hundreds of choices, he could have been a patron of seers or doctors, but instead he took on his heaviest burden.

His eyes went blank and his movements were smooth and unhurried. There was nothing in hell but countless souls, like an assembly line, waiting for their fate. The bleak fields and the deadly rivers - Aemond had studied all the scenery during the first week and had long since stopped noticing it, shutting himself off completely. He concentrated only on business, on the exhausting routine, occasionally allowing himself to see his sister and brothers, but even that didn't save them from the grave coldness that was destroying their relationship.

Aemond was hiding his envy deep down inside, where even blind Themis couldn't find it, and yet he agreed to attend Luke's party on his eighteenth birthday. The lavish feast Rhaenyra had thrown was worthy of all praise, but it wasn't the painted decorations of the manor that caught his eye. It was the air of life, the energy and hope in Luke's eyes, the joy that drew his attention. As Aemond stepped closer, modestly handing over a pendant with a ruby as a symbol of kindred courtesy, it seemed to him that a chasm separated them was far deeper than the one in which the icy Cocytus had been held.

— Does Rhaenyra still hold you close, like a child? I've heard Jace is doing quite well, and the exhibitions he curates are very popular, but it would be hard to expect otherwise from a god of truth and a patron of the arts. Maybe his success will be an example to your mother.

Luke could hardly remember the last time he'd seen Aemond. They'd spent a lot of time together as kids, learning tricks and playing teammates against Jace and Aegon. The accident that led to the loss of Aemond's eye separated them, leaving Luke with boundless guilt. They began to see each other less often, and Rhaenyra contributed to this by limiting their trips to King's Landing. Luke had almost convinced himself that he didn't care about how Aemond lived, but his interest returned instantly when Aemond turned eighteen and the Moirs determined his lot as the new head of the underworld. The new Hades.

Luke was familiar with the order of things. Some events were inevitable and repeated from generation to generation. Hades and Persephone determined the fate of their descendants and condemned them to the same bond. Their new versions were drawn to each other in the same way and went through the same stages of denial, anger, bargaining and acceptance. The result was always the same - a new marriage and a new division of the year.

Deep down, he held out hope that he would be the one to play the role of the new Persephone, just as he feared it with all his heart. Luke was no fool and judged his chances soberly. His mother was a fertility goddess like Demeter, and she had enough children that one of them would be Aemond's partner. It could have been Luke. And he wished, in a way, that it had turned out to be true, and he saw it as an opportunity to mend their former bond with Aemond and get rid of the resentments that hung as a burden between them.

He preferred not to think about the fact that he really liked Aemond, even when he was alone with himself. It was wrong. Incest had been practiced in their family for generations, but Luke kept thinking it was wrong. Dirty. And therefore especially attractive. At night he closed his eyes, imagining how Aemond could jam him in an empty room, press him roughly against the wall and kiss him, claiming his rights, and Luke's body instantly gave a reaction. Every single time. Desire pierced through him and pulsed just under his skin, preventing him from being distracted by anything else.

Or anyone. He tried, really tried, to go on dates with someone else, and it never worked. He was bored, he felt empty, and his thoughts kept going back to Aemond. Ever since he started spending almost all of his time in the underworld, their meetings had become almost priceless because of how rare they were. Once or twice a year. And Luke always waited, deluding himself with the hope that during the next break he would forget Aemond, put him out of his mind and fall in love with someone else. But each time he continued to be like a naive puppy, greedily catching his uncle's every look.

His birthday was a good reason for the whole pantheon of gods to gather in King's Landing. Aemond was going to show up, and Luke was ready for it, nervously searching the spacious hall with his eyes, where guests were feasting noisily, but eventually he met him near the garden alone. The gift from Aemond became a pleasant surprise and brought a faint blush to Luke's cheeks. The ruby pendant looked so much like a pomegranate seed sparkling in his palm that Luke was glad for the fact that Aemond could not read his mind.

"Take me away. Forget about everyone else and take me away, hide me in hell itself and lie to everyone. Mark me, make me yours. Let me be there and bow my head obediently, swearing allegiance for decades to come."

In some way it was an opportunity to close the gestalt and make things right between them. To be close again. In his best dreams, he called it "sacrificing yourself," because few people in reality would agree to voluntarily go down to hell for six months. But Luke's selfishness was strong enough to make him admit the truth. He wanted Aemond for nothing, and all the reasons "why not" were losing all meaning when he saw the ice in Aemond's blue eyes or the luxurious platinum of his hair that Luke wanted to burrow his fingers into.

And now, alone with him in the garden, Luke felt the expression "blind love" at its fullest. He didn't know much about Aemond, there had been no games or trusting conversations between them for a long time, and Rhaenyra would probably have wrung his neck personally for the very thought of leaving his old life behind and sacrificing everything for the bleak emptiness of Hell, but he was willing and ready to risk anything. Aemond seemed deep and interesting, he remained incredibly attractive, and the long scar didn't ruin his beauty at all. Lucerys was sure he could bridge the gaps between them after a while and love Aemond even more, if he had the chance.

— We're all still children to our parents, aren't we? Even when we grow up, — Luke remarked softly after a long pause, turning his back so that Aemond could clasp the ruby chain on him.

— Maybe. But my mother looks at me differently now. She only sees death, but I can't blame her for that, — Aemond answered with a note of familiar melancholy in his voice, and Luke nodded briefly, understanding the implication.

Aemond was the death itself, and the wilted lush rosebuds from the nearest bush were the best proof of that. Luke ran his fingers lightly over them, and the flowers immediately bloomed as before. It was so strange and so fascinating. They were opposites in nature. One was diligently giving life to everything around them, and the other was taking it away, coldly and mercilessly. Luke suddenly wondered if anything could grow in the underworld but asphodels, whose ghostly scent he could smell on Aemond, and then realized that he had never seen them in person. Only in pictures from old books.

— Do you think I could grow something in your realm? There are different laws there, obviously, but my power would remain the same there. Would I be able to use it? I've come across passages in the diaries of our previous generations. I've read that this had happened.

Luke turned back and stared at Aemond, studying him. So simple and naive, so young. So alive. Aemond would have given a lot to feel that way just once more. The subtext lurking in his nephew's words was all too easy to detect. Fate itself was bringing them together again. Aemond didn't believe anyone was capable of loving him, and he was convinced that pure and soft Luke would simply wither away in the underworld within weeks. He wanted something different for Luke, something better. Just as he wanted for himself.

— Hell is alive, as strange as that sounds. It can change to suit its master. New rooms may appear at the snap of a finger in my house, fields of asphodels alternate with fields of fire. But it's all darkness and chaos, it's primordial energy, much older than us. Even if you grow something there, even if I were to allow it, it would die soon. Don't get your hopes up, Lucerys. You should stay on the surface, here, with your family. Keep the others happy, keep the soil alive after the winter. It's better for both of us.

Aemond's cool fingers gently touched Luke's collarbone, tracing the ruby pendant, and instinctively gave him the creeps. Luke felt like taking a step back, but he forced himself to stay where he was. All sounds instantly disappeared, as if he had gone deaf, and there was no longer the chirping of birds, no sound of the spring breeze, no sound of waves from the neighboring beach. There was only Aemond, with his emphatically perfect posture and endless hollowness in his eyes, with a smile so sad that Luke swallowed hard at the bitterness that gathered on his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut to hide the appearing tears.

The hint was so blatant that Luke could physically feel his heart breaking. He was often referred to as Rhaenyra's favorite. A spoiled child who had been bathed in attention and compliments since childhood. In fact, he often faced rejections, but this one.. This one was the worst.

The phantom touch continued to burn his neck, even when Luke opened his eyes and stumbled into the void. Maybe that outcome was to be expected. Aemond wasn't blind, and he had certainly noticed the admiration in Luke's eyes. The way Luke reached out to him and spun around, constantly trying to strike up a conversation or get a share of his attention. But Luke was young and inexperienced and deserved something better than Aemond could ever offer to him.

Part 2

[clochanam]

👀 // heehee hoohoo

send in 👀 to hear what aisling would say about your muse to another person. ( ACCEPTING! )

it's been six months since alec left. what a pleasant way to describe it. like he just handed in his resignation and went to portugal for his early retirement. not like he broke her heart and turned against the tiny shard of MI6 that remained good at their core. six months. and if you include the period of determined denial, it's really nine.

high time to do something about it, then. she hands in her resignation, packs her bags, and gets to work. every single location the two of them ever visited on missions. the sites of highly important government officials who owed him favors. past safehouses, places close to his heart. she tracks every single one of them down, and records everything. photos, notes, recordings, footage, all documented meticulously. no disguises. just aliases. anna jenkins. alice jennings. allison james. aliases that cling to the truth and lure him in like breadcrumbs. only he's much too clever to fall for something so indiscreet.

it's what she wanted. a loyal recruit sent to figure her out, desperate enough to prove himself that he might get a little... excited. and he does. he takes a metal pipe from a construction site, follows her into the dark apartment, arm raised to strike. and then she emerges from behind him, slams her heel into the back of his knee, and cracks her elbow against that spot between the neck and the base of the skull.

when he wakens, enraged by how easily he was taken down, she's got him cuffed to the shower, door closed and leaving a grimy pane of glass between them. " scream. go on. you have five seconds, then we need to get back on track. you were a little easier to handle than i expected. "

" you think he doesn't know where i am?! "

" no, babe, i know he does. it's what i'm counting on. i just need you to deliver a message for me. " she lowers herself to sit on a soft velvet stool. the second he opens his mouth, she twists around to pull the toilet chain. instantly, ice-cold jets of water spit from the shower head, dousing him as a stifled yelp leaps from his open mouth. " yeah. shit plumbing. explains the low rent, though, huh? anyway. the message. i want you to tell alec that i left. i'm no longer working for MI6. and i want a meeting. "

" the two of you are actually certifiable. why the bloody FUCK can't you just go be with him?! or leave him alone?! what's this bullshit of turning the world into a fucking chessboard?! "

" not an MI6 man, then? not CIA, not by the inability to follow orders. so an independent mercenary. makes sense. see, here's the thing, tom. you join something like MI6, or the CIA, and you learn a code. brotherhood is a sweet name for it. loyalty. but in the end, it's just blind faith. just assuming they give you the correct information, the truth, the honesty that you're obligated to give them. alec saw it way before i did, probably since before i ever got involved. i suppose... ever since we'd met, he'd been protecting me. he'd take the kill shot so i could go home with clean hands. he'd hold me when the nightmares had me caught. he went through so much just to keep me safe. it took me ages to see it. the lies, the deceit, the amount of times we were fucking abandoned. when i got the call from felix, he urged me to go. so then i was the one who abandoned him. he had to endure it all alone. when i'd come back, it was like watching him disappear bit by bit. you know what that does, tom? to a person? to watch the love of their life fade and transform and emerge completely different? "

" ...this is who he's always been. "

" doesn't matter. either he lied to me for all those years in the field, in the cabin, in our bed, or he's lying to me now. either way. the lies end here. tell him, tom, because i know he's enroute, i know it's only a matter of minutes. tell him to meet me in the cabin. alone. he knows better, after all. hallowed ground, if you like the religious metaphor. "

" i don't. "

" tough shit. " she yanks the toilet chain on the way out, and another onslaught of ice cold water hits him, causing a shriek to serenade her on her way out the door.

[starseverance]

32, 33, and 11?

Ask Game Link! Hi hi Anon! Thank you sm for the ask! <3 I'll answer this 'un for 💫!

What’s an often overlooked or unknown trait about your F/O that you adore? What’s your special trait that they love? An often overlooked trait of 💫's that I adore is how deceitful he can be. It's no secret that he lies when he has to, but I think less people know the true extent of his deception. He behaves in a way that suggests he's mostly calm and patient, when in actuality he's ruthless and bloodthirsty. Godssss I love him, the way he can be so calculating yet so brutal.

He says one special trait of mine that he loves is how good I am with children, he says that he's never seen me meet a baby or toddler that didn't love me. I like to say that my baby fever is chronic lol, every time I see a little one I turn to 💫 like "💫 I need one." Alas, I'm too young to be considering parenthood imo.

What is your F/O’s sexuality? He's bisexual!

Does your F/O fit your usual “type”, or did your attraction to them come out of no where? Oh yeah, 💫's my type. Older man, tyrant/dictator, generally evil, wealthy, personally as well as politically powerful- he's like, the epitome of my type. Physically too (Gods, I'm blushing as I type this,) receeding hairline, prominent brow, defined nose, cheekbones, taller than me, thinner lips... As soon as I saw him and found out the smallest bit of information about him, I was like "he's going to be a PROBLEM." I only managed to be in denial about my feelings for 27 minutes... and I'm glad it wasn't even another minute longer. <3

[cosmicjoke]

It’s kind of amusing to me that Lestat haters try to say he’s being “untruthful” in the books told from his perspective, that he goes out of his way to make himself look better than he is, when at least half the stuff he says about himself is derogatory in some way, or overly critical and self-loathing, and he doesn’t try to hide the way he bungles certain situations, or his own thoughtlessness leading to disaster.  I think most people try to cite the difference between Louis’ story in “Interview with the Vampire” and Lestat’s in “The Vampire Lestat” as some sort of evidence of his deceit, but Lestat never denies any event that Louis spoke about directly, or even any of his behavior that Louis accused him of. He doesn’t try to say it went any differently than how Louis described it (save Louis’ going to see Lestat in New Orleans in the end), rather it’s simply Lestat providing information which explains why he acted the way he did with Louis and Claudia.  He isn’t saying he’s telling the truth and Louis is lying, he’s saying their life together as conveyed in “IWTV” is how Louis perceived it, what he believes about it, and Lestat’s story leading up to that life together is a providing of context for Lestat’s own behavior.  I don’t know how anyone could characterize Lestat as trying to make himself look better by telling lies.  He makes it plain as day that almost everything that goes wrong is because of some screw up on his own part.

Lestat keeps going back, for example, to how, even after his suicide attempt in the Gobi Desert, something spurred on by his guilt over killing an innocent woman the night before, he goes back again to killing homeless people in the streets of London a few nights later, and he expresses his disdain for his own carelessness  and hypocrisy, and actual, deep self-awareness in knowing, even as he hates his behavior, he does nothing to really change it.  This isn’t what someone in denial about their own actions, or about themselves, would say.  He also goes well out of his way to keep reminding David of what he is, that he isn’t the innocent looking boy he appears to be, that he’s a merciless killer, etc... David says to Lestat “You’re quite determined that I’m to know you, aren’t you?  There’s to be no sentimentality or mistake.”  And at another point, Lestat says to David “I look like an angel, but I’m not.  The old rules of nature encompass many creatures like me.  We’re beautiful like the diamond-backed snake, or the striped tiger, yet we’re merciless killers.  You do let your eyes deceive you.”

He won’t let David be fooled by appearances, because he loves David.

When David apologizes to Lestat for reminding him of what he’d said earlier about how he enjoys taking life, that he didn’t mean to be cruel, Lestat says “Well, why the hell not?  I can’t think of a finer choice for cruelty.  Besides, I’m not always so kind to you.”

People say Lestat lacks self-awareness, but he doesn’t.  He uses denial to himself as a coping mechanism at times, like wanting to believe that the killing of the old woman in Miami had been an accident, but he almost always calls himself out on it at some point, sometimes immediately.

The other thing people who hate on Lestat seem to insist on is that it’s only OTHER people that Lestat never thinks of, that it’s only others that he ends up endangering, and this is somehow indicative of his lack of empathy for others.  But for example, at the end of chapter 5 of “Tale of the Body Thief”, Lestat realizes suddenly that he’s in danger from this strange mortal who keeps finding him and sending him short stories, and the reality of that danger just simply hadn’t occurred to him before.  It’s what leads David to express his concern for Lestat’s well being too, that he’ll end up being captured somehow because he isn’t protecting himself properly.  It’s Lestat’s impulsive and reckless nature that leads to situations often spinning out of control for him, not a lack of empathy.  He puts himself in as much danger as anyone else because he just simply doesn’t often think in the moment.

I think Lestat’s empathy is apparent, also, is his relationship with David Talbot.  During his conversation with him, when he learns of David’s time hunting in Rio as a young man, and how much David wishes he hadn’t wasted all these years in the order, being a scholar, Lestat keeps encouraging David to leave the Talamesca and go back to Brazil, to do what makes him happy.  He tries to support him, the same way he tried to support Nicki.  It’s actually really sweet.  At the same time, we see Lestat’s inner struggle with believing himself to be nothing but a danger and a bad influence on David, to be causing him pain (once more flying in the face of this notion that Lestat is lying to make himself look better to the reader), and again that kind of goes back to Lestat’s experiences with Nicki and his relationship with Louis and Claudia.  Lestat’s innate optimism leads him to want to encourage and support those he loves in their endeavors.  That sort of support comes naturally to him.  But you can see here Lestat still struggling with whether that’s a good thing or not, again tying back to Nicki.  He tells David to leave the Telamesca and go to Brazil, but then when David insists to Lestat that he will always want his company and asks him not to abandon him again, Lestat says “If I thought I was good for you, if I thought your leaving the order and traveling again was good for you...”  He knows David’s heart is weakening, that he doesn’t have much longer to live, and he clearly fears here that his encouragement will once again lead to the demise of someone he loves.

[maciek-jozefowicz]

“Of Villains, Victims and Heroes” — A Logic Puzzle Set from “My Silly Puzzles”

[ What did Shakespeare say about the world? That it is a stage and that we are all actors on that stage. Every one of us is wearing a mask, trying to hide the real us behind it, acting out our personas. I enjoy unmasking people. (Which is something that many people fear—being unmasked.) I suppose it’s a sick form of entertainment.* It does not make me an endearing person. Although I am “nice”, I hate falseness. Perhaps that is why I like truth-tellers-and-liars logic puzzles. These puzzles are about unmasking the characters, finding out who is really who, or who is really what.

In the real world, of course, it is not so easy as it is in a puzzle—it takes time and patience, keen observation, reason and an understanding of human nature**. Judging from his writing, Shakespeare must have been good at unmasking people.

“Of Villains, Victims and Heroes” is a truth-tellers-and-liars puzzle set from my book “My Silly Puzzles”. The premise for the puzzles was inspired by two rhymes that appear in my book “My Silly Poems.” They form a preamble to the introduction of the puzzles. The set consists of 18 puzzles. Most of the puzzles use three characters, but there are also puzzles with four, five, six and seven characters. ***

—————————

* But it is not only for fun that I unmask. While in public, I am civil to all and can get along with all, in private, I am highly selective. The people around you, influence you. Their mindset influences yours—positively or negatively. That is why I exclude from my private life people with mindsets that I am repulsed by, mindsets that I find to be toxic or merely shallow. I also exclude liars, fakes, phonies, hollow materialists, manipulators, schemers, vulgar opportunists, etc. (Some would consider this selectivity closed minded. It is not. I am open minded, but also highly judgmental. For example, I am willing to eat foods from different cultures, but I am not willing to eat poison.)

** In knowing others, one must first know oneself, and to know oneself one must be able to fearlessly take off one’s mask.**** I say fearlessly because many of us not only mask our true selves from others, we also mask our true selves from ourselves. This is called self-deceit, or denial. We especially hide our negative qualities—selfishness, narcissism, ignorance, enviousness, etc. For example, many people hide their narcissism and selfishness behind a mask of Empathy. (Generally, bad people, as well as shallow people, need masks; good people do not.)

*** If it only was as simple as a puzzle. But, unfortunately, in the real world liars often tell the truth (to gain credibility) and honest people sometimes tell lies (out of kindness*****). So then how does one tell which is which?

**** My definition of “family” is “a group of people among which you are comfortable being yourself; a group of people among which you feel comfortable being unmasked.”

***** Honest people should avoid telling lies out of kindness (or out of fear). Doing so perpetuates other people’s self-deceit. Self-deceit is unhealthy for any individual. It is also unhealthy for society. ]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

NEWSBREAK: Handsome Held for Ransom

If we count From 10 to 0, Helplessly hoping For the coming of a hero, Will He, or She, appear? 3…2…1…OH, DEAR!

But what if the hero does appear and the victim and the villain, too, are near, and we can’t tell which is which—which a villain, which a victim and which a hero be? Should we bother, or should we flee? Are there rules we can apply to help us them identify?

Yes. At least here, you won’t have to guess, because here the heroes are rude and mean, they can cut your feelings with their keen,* but they always tell the truth**; the villains are nice and sweet, but full of sweet deceit, that is to say, they always lie***; and the victims do what they must do to get by—sometimes they give us a truth and sometimes they give us a lie.****

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* Though these types of clues have been deleted or these puzzles would be too easily defeated.

** and the truth won’t rot your “tooth”.

*** and lead you astray with their bouquet of lies that make you feel really, really, really nice until…until they give you their “bill”. (There is a price for so much nice!)

**** They are forced to be pliant to the needs of their client.

< 1 >

Ashley: “I am a Victim.”

Amelia: “I am a Hero.”

Angie: “I am a Villain.”

https://www.amazon.com/author/maciek_jozefowicz

[luna-is-a-main-now]

Trust chapter 2

Deceit shivered under the thick blankets, and whined softly as he slowly blinked open his eyes. It was morning, and he was alone on the couch, a thick red blanket tucked around him, but it was freezing compared to what Deceit truly wanted. With a long, tired sigh, he stood up and snapped himself into warmer, more comfy clothes. He peeked his head into the kitchen and was pleased to see Patton there, cooking what appeared to be chocolate chip pancakes. Deceit had no idea if his stomach could handle such heavy food yet, but he intended to find out, especially because said pancakes smelled absolutely heavenly.

As soon as Patton turned his back, Deceit snuck in and filched a warm pancake from the top of the stack next to the pan where more were being cooked. Quickly, he left before Patton spotted him, and took his stolen food to the couch, where he sat and slowly nibbled at it. It was pleasantly warm and perfectly fluffy, and the chocolate chips tasted rich and gooey and they had melted into the pancake perfectly. It tasted like heaven, and Dee melted into the couch in delight at the taste. It had been too long since he had such wonderful food and he gratefully appreciated being here right now to experience what he was now sure was a literally perfect pancake. 

Deceit thoroughly enjoyed his stolen pancake. 

Until his stomach decided that it didn’t enjoy the pancake as much as he had. With a dramatic sigh, Deceit flopped backwards onto the couch and buried himself under the thick blanket once more. He felt the couch give as someone sat next to him. 

“What’s up with you?” He heard the unmistakably grumpy voice of Virgil. When Deceit stubbornly refused to reply, he heard an amused huff as he was shoved off the couch, blanket and all, falling with a loud thump and a muffled ‘oomph’ of surprise. He popped his head out of the top of his blanket burrito and pointedly glared at Virgil and ignored a chuckling Roman while he tried to keep his mind off of his rolling stomach, made even worse by the tumble off the couch.

Virgil smirked wickedly back at him, before standing up and heading to the kitchen. Roman, ever the knight in shining armor, picked Deceit up and plopped him back on the couch with a grin. Deceit grumbled and hid his face under the blanket to hide the small smile that graced his own features.

“Well good morning to the grumpy snake. Would you like me to grab you some breakfast?” Roman questioned him gently, and Deceit could see the hope in his eyes practically begging him to say yes. He bit his lip and thought about how he already felt uncomfortably full from just one pancake, but glancing back up at Roman, he sighed in defeat. He couldn’t outright say no to that face, after all. 

“Yeah, sure, but… not too much. I’m not really hungry.” Deceit admitted. Roman looked him over skeptically, like he didn’t know whether or not Deceit was lying, which he supposed was fair considering his track record. “I promise, Roman. If I were hungry, I’d tell you first.” The prince seemed to be pleased by that answer, and with a bright smile and a quick wave, he headed off towards the kitchen. 

“What is wrong with me?” Deceit muttered to himself when he realized his face was warm and his chest felt tight. “It’s nothing. Nothing at all. That’s a problem for future Deceit.” He quickly mumbled, chasing away stray thoughts he didn’t want to think about. His head snapped around when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and was greeted by the sight of a now much more well-rested Logan. 

“Good morning, Dee.” Logan smiled at him as he adopted the nickname Roman had established for him the night before. Deceit still didn’t understand why Roman had adopted a nickname for him, but there was hardly anything he could do about it now. He sure as hell wasn’t going to admit out loud that he kinda liked it. “How are you feeling this morning?” Logan questioned as he sat in his spot on the couch. 

“I’m fantastic, thank you.” Deceit grumbled sarcastically, and burrowed back under the blanket when he felt Logan’s pointed look fall on him. He squirmed uncomfortably fow a few moments, but eventually grumbled and conceded to Logan’s unnerving stare. “Fine, fine. I feel better than I did but still pretty shitty.” He admitted quietly, and received a pleased hum in response. Cocky self assured bastard, Deceit thought with no real bite, just with the mild frustration that Logan could seemingly so easily get Deceit to speak up. 

“As to be expected at this stage. A few more days and you should start trying to eat heavier foods and eat more frequently, but for now, you should stick to occasional soup and not push it too much. The soup will help boost your immune and digestive systems quickly without shocking the latter too much after not eating in so long.” Logan commented as he picked up a book and opened it nonchalantly. 

“Yeah, I learned that the hard way. Tried to eat a pancake. It was really good but I don’t think my stomach appreciated the gesture all that much.” Deceit muttered in annoyance, but quickly shut his mouth as Roman reappeared, holding a small bowl, presumably filled with more soup. Logan watched on with a puzzled gaze as Deceit took the bowl from Roman, but Deceit quickly shook his head when he started to say something. Logan closed his mouth, but continued to watch Deceit closely with concern. 

As Patton set the table and handed out plates of food, Deceit stared down at his soup with a slight grimace. He knew he’d regret his inability to say no to Roman later, but for now, he really should try and eat some of the soup, if only to get the other sides to stop staring at him with the strangely worried expressions that seemed to land on him with unnerving frequency now. 

Slowly, as everyone else settled into their spots and started eating, Deceit managed to take a bite of his soup. His stomach immediately lurched in displeasure, but Deceit forced down two more bites before he pushed the still mostly full bowl away from him. The conversation at the table quickly dwindled as the other sides looked over at him, then at the bowl and back at him again. 

“Dee? You hardly ate any of it, are you feeling okay?” Roman called softly from beside him, placing a warm, gentle hand on his back and rubbing slight, soothing circles as well. Deceit instantly relaxed at the warmth and comfort that small action provided him, but didn’t let it show outwardly. 

“I am absolutely fantastic,” he forced out instead, ignoring the nausea bubbling in his stomach. He knew he hadn’t fooled any of them, but he wasn’t going to offer any other explanations. He stared at the floor and ignored their gazes stubbornly. He didn’t see why they should care about him this much. He wasn’t a light side and he never would be, so their care and concern was just wasted on him. Eventually they would realize that Deceit was still Deceit, and they would go back to throwing him looks of disgust and contempt, and he’d have to go back to his freezing room and all of this would be for nothing in the end. How could he ever hope to expect anything different? 

“Dee? You’re shaking.” He heard the muffled voice of Virgil, but he only sank further into his blanket and hid his face. He screwed his eyes shut for good measure. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to see the concern on their faces, especially not Virgil who he had once trusted and cared so much about before he had left without a word, without warning, without so much as a goodbye. He didn’t want to get attached again, to any of them, because he knew he’d just be left again. He was Deceit; he couldn’t be trusted and he couldn’t trust anyone else. 

He heard multiple muffled voices above him, but he couldn’t stop his spiraling thoughts now. He was trapped, and he knew, he just knew that he was going to end up alone in the dark, cold and hungry all over again. He dreaded the moment, but he knew it was inevitable because he was not a light side and not a dark side. He was an unwanted side, and that wasn’t going to change.  

“Dee!” Roman’s loud voice and a loud clap in front of his face snapped him sharply back to reality, and he harshly sucked in a stuttered breath. He heard Virgil start to count, and he immediately recognized it as the breathing exercise he used to calm down. Deceit struggled to match his breathing to the soothing counting, but eventually somehow managed to do it. He slumped forward, suddenly feeling very tired. He buried his face behind the blankets until not even a single hair on his head was visible from under his cocoon. He didn’t want to be here right now. There was only one place he wanted to be and he couldn’t possibly ask for it, and it would never be offered to him. 

“I’m okay. I’m sorry. I’m fine.” Deceit repeated over and over. He had to believe it. If he believed it, then it wasn’t a lie anymore. He was fine. He’d be fine when they all left him again. He was used to being alone. It was fine. He could handle it. Everything was fine. 

“Dee, please don’t lie to us. What’s going on?” Roman’s soft, concerned voice made Deceit want to cry. When he didn’t reply, he felt Roman’s hand start to rub soothing circles on his back again. He had never noticed when Roman had stopped doing it the first time. That still didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t get attached, would never let himself get attached to anyone like that ever again. 

“I’m tired and I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Deceit murmured, and sighed tiredly. He wanted to sleep for ten years. Preferably on a certain fluffy bed, in a warm room, and with- 

“Shut up, Deceit.” He snapped quietly at himself, and Roman paused in his soothing movements for a second, but didn’t question his outburst even though he was sure the rest of them had heard it. Not like it really mattered right now, not when Deceit was just so exhausted and wanted to pass out and escape all of this. 

“Dee, hey, can you look at me?” He heard Virgil ask soothingly from in front of him. He didn’t want to, but slowly he peeked his head out and looked at Virgil, who was kneeling on the floor, warily.  

“Will you tell us what’s going on later? I understand you need sleep now, but you can’t keep bottling up whatever it is that’s bothering you. You can trust us.” Deceit couldn’t help but snort harshly at that, making Virgil reel back with a confused expression. 

“I’m Deceit, Virgil.” He snarled darkly. “I’m not a light side, so whatever game you’re all playing you can stop. I know you can’t trust me, I am literally the embodiment of deception. How am I supposed to trust you all when you don’t trust me? Just because I’m weak and feel like shit right now doesn’t mean I’m magically one of you or part of your family. Just because I’m not a dark side doesn’t mean I can or will be all buddy buddy with the rest of you. You never should have helped me. Just because I’m no longer one of them, does not mean I am no longer Deceit, that I am different.” Deceit stood up and threw the blanket to the ground before turning and stalking off towards the Mind Palace’s exit. 

“Dee wait!” Roman’s voice called, and Deceit couldn’t help but freeze. He flinched in surprise when Roman hugged him from behind, effectively trapping him where he was. He hated this, he hated that he could never just say no to or ignore Roman. What was it about that stupid Prince that made Deceit feel so utterly helpless? 

“I trust you.” Roman murmured in his ear, cutting off his train of thought quite effectively. “I know that you aren’t different just because you aren’t a dark side anymore. That doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is that you are okay. Please, just, let’s get you to bed. You need more rest. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll respect that, but please, don’t leave.” Roman tightened his hold on Deceit, like he needed Deceit to know that he really did want him to stay. Deceit hesitated, then he finally reached down and took Roman’s hands in his, and slowly turned to face him.

“...okay.” He agreed quietly, hesitantly almost, as if waiting for Roman to take what he had said back. Roman only beamed brightly at him, then led him back the way they had come. Catching the surprised looks of the other sides, Deceit averted his gaze, and sighed in relief when he saw that Roman was leading him towards the stairs, hands still intertwined. Deceit realized he was completely powerless when faced with Roman. A small part of his brain whispered why, but he quickly decided to ignore it. That was still future Deceit’s problem. Current Deceit just wanted sleep. 

“Since you don’t have a room here, you can sleep in mine. Plus, it’s the warmest room, so you’ll be more comfortable, right? Is there anything else you need or want before you sleep?” Roman asked gently as he lead Deceit into his room. Deceit bit his lip and shook his head. The one thing he wanted was something he didn’t think he could ever ask for, even though he was getting half of what he wanted already by some sheer dumb luck. 

Roman led Deceit to the bed, and made to let go of his hand. Deceit quickly held fast, not letting him go. Looking at the floor, he took a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to say something, anything, in return for everything Roman has done. He may not be “good”, but he knew when a thank you was in order, and Roman had certainly done more than enough to earn one. 

“Thank you, Roman. For everything. I mean it. I really do appreaciate everything you’ve done to help me.” Deceit murmured quietly, not meeting the prince’s eyes. Before he could even think about letting go of Roman’s hand, Roman had gathered him up in a hug again, and Deceit really could not stop the small sigh of satisfaction at the action as he hugged the creative side back gratefully.

“No need to thank me, Dee. You’re a side. It doesn’t matter about light or dark; you’re just as important as the rest of us. You’re important to Thomas. You’re important to the other sides. You’re important to me.” Roman told him seriously, and leaned back to level his gaze at Dee, so he could see how serious he was. Deceit smiled and nodded, accepting Roman’s words without hesitation. 

“Come on, now. Let’s go to bed.” Roman grinned as he pulled Deceit onto the bed after him, pulling the blankets up over them both. Deceit froze, and looked at Roman curiously. He only got a soft smile in return as Roman laid his head down on his pillow, with clearly no intention to leave. Deceit relaxed and laid down as well, and took a deep breath; he felt warm and safe, and he had gotten exactly what he had wanted without having to ask or lie or manipulate his way there. It was given to him naturally by Roman’s good nature; and that made it all the more better to Deceit.

It didn’t take very long until Dee fell asleep, more comfortable than he had ever been. 

-----------------------------

Roman blinked his eyes open slowly. He was pleasantly warm and comfortable; he didn’t really want to wake up yet. He looked to his side, and saw Dee fast asleep, curled into Roman’s side with one arm draped gently over his chest. Roman couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Dee was never vulnerable or cuddly with anyone, and Roman felt like he was special to be able to see Dee so at peace for once. Not to mention that when he was asleep, the worried, anxious lines that had been etched into his face the past two days completely melted and he looked like one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen, regardless of the fact that they shared a face. Roman supposed it was the scales; he didn’t know why but Dee’s scales just made him so much more attractive than any of the other sides. 

That was a thought he had always had and would always keep to himself, though. 

On an impulse, Roman reached out and ran a gentle hand over Dee’s scales, and found that they were smooth and cool to the touch. Dee shivered and leaned into Roman’s touch, still fast asleep. Roman smiled and did it again, and watched as Dee relaxed more and more as he continued to run his hand either over his scales or through his soft hair. Eventually, Dee yawned slightly, and cracked his eye open curiously. 

“Rom’n?” Dee mumbled, voice still soft and laced with sleep. 

“Hey, Dee.” Roman greeted softly with a smile. “How’d you sleep? Do you feel better?” Dee sighed softly and his eyes fluttered closed again. 

“Mhmm. Warm and comfy.” He whispered, about to fall asleep again. “I feel a lot better. Stomach still hurts though.” 

“Why does your stomach hurt, Dee? What’s wrong?” Roman’s voice was now impossibly soft with concern, and he ran a gentle, caring hand through Dee’s hair again, making his eyes blink open again slowly, staring up at Roman blearily, before speaking softly. 

“I, uh, kinda stole a pancake this morning while no one was up and Patton wasn’t looking. It smelled amazing and I just, I dunno, I wanted one even though I knew it wasn’t good for me yet. It was really, really good. My stomach doesn’t like it though.” Dee frowned, like he was upset at his stomach for not cooperating. Roman found it cute, even if he was concerned about what that meant. 

“I see. Be a little more patient. We’ll have you back on heavier foods soon, but not too quickly, okay? You should have told me before though; I’m sure that extra soup I brought you didn’t help. Anyways, do you wanna talk about what happened?” Roman asked softly. Dee immediately tensed, but then sighed heavily, almost in defeat, and nodded. 

“I guess.” Dee sat up and pointedly faced away from Roman, and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them. “I just, I don’t understand why you guys are acting like you care about me so much. I’m not a light side. I’ll never be good, and I’ll never be one of you. I’m still Deceit. I don’t think Patton is ever going to approve of me in any way. I think he’s just being nice for your sake. Sooner or later though… you’ll all realize that nothing has changed. The dark sides don’t accept me anymore, sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m still not technically one of them. Eventually, it’ll all just go back to the way it was and you’ll all leave me again and I’ll always be so, so cold and hungry and sick again.” Dee curled up even more, burying his head in his arms, and Roman hated how small he looked. “I’m just the unwanted side.” He whispered that last part shakily, and Roman could swear he felt his heart clench at the soft, bordering-on-broken voice. 

“Oh, Dee, no, that’s not true. At least, not for me. I can’t speak for the others, but I want you to stay. I do care about you, and I promise you’ll never have to be alone like that a second time. You will never have to be that cold or hungry ever again, I swear that to you. I won’t ever allow that to happen. Okay?” Roman swore firmly, and Dee peeked over his shoulder and seemed to study Roman’s face for a long while. 

“Really?” Dee’s voice was hesitant and unsure, like he couldn’t really bring himself to trust Roman’s words at face value. He bit his lip uncertainly and stared at Roman’s eyes, searching for any indication that Roman was lying, even though Roman knew that Dee could sense that naturally as he was basically the King of Lies. Whenever anyone lied, Dee just knew, he could feel the lie almost as if it were a physical sensation across his skin, or so Roman assumed. 

“Really.” Roman swore vehemently. “I promise. If you want, I can even talk to the others about this too. Even if they don’t feel the same, which I honestly doubt, that still would not change that fact that I will protect you now. You will never have to go through that again.” Roman smiled at Dee softly. “So come back here and stay warm, okay?” 

Dee hesitated only a moment longer before practically launching himself at Roman. Roman was surprised when the other snaked his arms around his neck and gave him one of the tightest hugs Roman had ever received. It was like Dee was desperate to show Roman just how much he appreciated his words, which was completely unexpected coming from the snake-like side. Not that Roman minded in the slightest; quite the contrary actually. 

“Thank you. Thank you, Roman. So, so, so much.” Dee whispered in Roman’s ear. “Also, you are very warm.” He chuckled at his shy admission, and Roman did as well, returning the hug just as tightly. 

“No need to thank me, Dee. Honestly. I’m just glad you’re alright. Well, getting there.” Roman murmured back to him soothingly, which resulted in a tighter hug and a soft hum of agreement. 

“Why… why do you care about me though?” Dee’s hesitant voice almost made Roman want to cry. He wondered who had made Dee feel so insecure and unworthy of care and concern even when he so clearly was. It didn’t really matter anymore though, Roman reasoned, because he would make sure he would never feel that way again. 

“Because you deserve it, Dee. You deserve just as much love and care as the rest of us do, no matter what anyone else says. You are just as important as us, and I care about you. I don’t have a specific reason, but that’s because I shouldn’t need one to deem you worthy of love and care and concern. You are already worthy of those things simply because you are here and you exist, just here, just you.” Roman stated, and pulled away just enough to look at Dee’s eyes. “You are enough exactly as you are. You are wanted exactly  as you are. You are loved exactly as you are. Okay?” 

Dee didn’t seem to know how to reply to that. He stared at Roman with his mouth slightly open in a little ‘o’ and his eyes kept searching Roman’s. He looked totally and completely shocked and surprised. Roman wondered what was going on inside his head as he just started at Roman like he was the only thing in the room. Then his mouth twitched, and slowly slid into a sort of shy and pleased smile as he appeared to accept what Roman said, and gave him a small nod, and hugged Roman tight once more. 

“You always know what to say. How do you do that?” Dee chuckled softly, and the sound made a shiver roll down Roman’s spine. Roman smirked wickedly at the question though, and gave a long, dramatic sigh.

“Oh I suppose it’s just one of my many great talents as a prince! You know, with all the speeches and royal decrees we must give it is a skill I must have. Oh, the burdens of being such a wonderful prince such as I.” Roman intoned dramatically with a sarcastic undertone, and grinned widely as he heard Dee snort in amusement at his words. 

“Ah, yes, of course. I should have guessed that it was just a natural talent the wonderful and brave prince Roman would have! How silly of me to ask.” Dee replied with just as much sarcasm, finally pulling away and grinning at Roman. Roman practically melted; a genuine smile on Dee was almost too adorable and beautiful for him to process. 

Oh.

Oh. 

Roman’s eyes widened when he realized what he had just thought to himself and what it meant. Now that he had, he couldn’t stop himself from admitting it to himself. Roman had a major crush on Deceit, and even though it had come out of nowhere, he didn’t mind it in the slightest. 

Roman grinned widely back at the boy in question; he knew Dee couldn’t possibly feel the same way about him, but that was not going to stop Roman from trying. 

It was time for Roman to romance the hell out of a boy, for better or for worse. 

God, he hoped it was for better. 

Time to try, at least.

-----------------------------

Deceit was constantly being amazed by Roman. Now, though, with everything Roman had done for him and said to him, Deceit was surprised he wasn’t rendered completely speechless. That is, until he saw Roman’s expression morph into something impossibly soft, and he smiled so big at Deceit as if he had just come to a wonderful conclusion and Dee was at the very center of it all and Roman couldn’t be happier about it. It took effort to remind his lungs to continue breathing while Roman gave him that look, but Deceit couldn’t say that he disliked it all that much.

“I know you said that your stomach hurt just a few minutes ago, but despite that, are you hungry at all? I can heat you up some more soup.” Roman offered, and his voice snapped Deceit’s attention back to him violently from where he had been trying desperately to ignore the soft expression on Roman’s face, not that he had much luck in that particular endeavor. Dee took a few moments to consider how he felt, and when he focused on his stomach, he frowned slightly. 

“I mean, my stomach doesn’t hurt anymore, so that’s good. However, I don’t feel particularly hungry either? Just kinda empty but not in a bad way?” Deceit tried to explain. “I can try to eat a bit more though, but I don’t make any promises. Might as well try to eat and possibly help myself rather than not eat and possibly regret it later.” He shrugged slightly. 

“Wonderful way to look at it!” Roman exclaimed, pleased, as he rolled out of bed and onto his feet. With a quick snap, his clothes straightened back out and looked just as perfect on him as they always did. Dee shook his head slightly to expel the thought as Roman rounded the bed and offered his hand out to him. Hesitantly, Deceit took it, and Roman gently pulled him up to his feet, and led them, hand in hand, down the stairs. 

Deceit realized that they had slept well into the afternoon, and that despite them being gone so long, it seemed as though the other sides hadn’t moved from their positions from breakfast. He knew they must have though; all the dishes had been cleared, the table cleaned, and they had all changed into their normal clothes as opposed to their pajamas and sleep clothes from earlier in the morning. When he and Roman walked into the living room, all conversation ceased as the other sides looked up at the two of them quickly. 

Deceit tensed, and practically ripped his hand from Roman’s as he straightened up and made sure his expression stayed carefully neutral. He had shown them all far too much of himself this morning. Granted, Virgil had already known him before, but that was a long time ago, and even he no longer knew exactly who Deceit was any more. A part of him wanted to keep it that way. Another part wanted to tell him and hoped that the two of them could at least get along in some way again. He didn’t know which side he wanted to win and that thought scared Deceit almost as much as he was now terrified of losing… Roman. 

That thought hit him like a freight train, and he froze the second he had realized he’d had it. Dammit, Deceit, he thought to himself harshly. You went and got attached, even when you said you wouldn’t. Maybe… maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing though? Looking at the other sides as Roman headed off to the kitchen to fetch him some soup, Dee let himself take a deep breath. 

Maybe he could learn to trust again. Maybe he could learn to love again. Maybe he could learn how to be part of a family again.

God, Dee hoped so, especially as his mind helplessly returned to thinking about how Roman had looked at him earlier while they had still been in bed, the one that had made Dee’s heart nearly stop. 

Selfishly and a bit shamelessly, Dee realized he wanted Roman to look at him like that again. 

However, Dee smiled softly to himself, that was still future Deceit’s problem. 

For now, at least.

[tags and a little note]

Still don’t know how to even do a proper tag list but! 

@themelodeeartz

I hope you all enjoyed reading this!! I hope it’s good lol

Now that this actually has a proper title, you can find it and other works of mine on Ao3 @The_anon_that_writes 

Thank you so much for reading this far!!

[theepsizet]

Sanders Sides Season 2 Finale Predictions

Or rather predictions for Pt 1/4 of the Season 2 finale, b/c I honestly have no idea what the plot is going to be AT ALL.

So, the Season 2 Finale is coming very soon, according to Thomas. Naturally, there’s still a lot of speculation into what will be shown. This entire post will be the obvious predictions (again for Pt 1/4), as well as a couple ideas that might seem far-fetched but can possibly make sense considering what the series.

And yes, this has been done before, but I might as well review the important points.

Prediction #1: Wrap Up Loose Ends

POF ended with a bittersweet end-card, but with tension still being in the air. Roman is pissed that Janus is accepted — his black-and-white mentality makes him believe/convinced that “Dark Sides” = evil, and it certainty didn’t help that both snapped at each other; aka that scene — and he’s even more upset that Patton is giving “the snake” a seat at the table.

Thomas said in one of his instagram Q&As that the Season 2 finale will have 4 parts, and with this in mind it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to believe that the Season 2 Finale will tie into POF and, subsequently the “Wedding vs Callback” trilogy — SvS, DWIT, and POF.

The trilogy was an emotional roller-coaster. It was a simple turned thought experiment where the final decision had dangerous consequences. This included Thomas worsening his relationship with intrusive thoughts — despite the beneficial outcome that Remus can now show up, he’s still not fully accepted by Thomas; his existence as “Dark Creativity” is just acknowledged — and revealing that Patton’s moral code was so extreme he believed/wanted Thomas to purse martyrdom and literally die for others for the cost of being a good person.

It’s wasn’t pleasant. And it certainly isn’t over.

Virgil and Janus have always had tension between each other every time the latter showed up. And since Virgil does know him personally, it makes the grudge much worse than Roman’s. It’s heavily implied — and even a common theory at this point — that the two had a fallout, of sorts, otherwise Virgil wouldn’t have any qualms for Janus being around.

And for a side who is 100% against anything that Janus brings to the discussion board, Virgil would naturally be absolutely pissed that Janus is accepted by Thomas.

There’s actually a very subtle hint in FWSA, where Virgil & Roman at the beginning of the episode both admonished Thomas for simply using “little white lies” that are otherwise harmful/not really impact compared to using deceit as a solution for trust issues.

(Side-note: Deep down, Virgil does understand Janus’ importance, but their past implied fallout would only diminish this idea. Virgil would only agree with Janus reluctantly, and even then he wouldn’t like to admit that the latter has some good points.

This could also tie into Virgil’s biggest of being seen as the “bad guy” again. He tried so hard to be accepted, and when he finally opened up about him being a Dark Side, Thomas was shocked... what would happen next? Will Thomas reject him once again? The answer is no, of course not. Thomas accepts him for who he is, but Virgil is still anxiety, and these questions can’t easily go away. Not only that, but no amount of deception/denial will help diminish this; hence why Virgil might even lash out if Janus even tries to remotely assure/comfort him.)

Speaking of Janus, Patton is also going to be someone that Virgil & Roman are both pissed at. For Roman, the reasons are explained above, but for Virgil... well...

It started after DWIT. Virgil was disappointed in himself that he couldn’t protect Thomas from, and since he is the embodiment of anxiety, he naturally thinks of the worst possibilities. And since Patton was pretty accepting of Remus existing — while he’s still uncomfortable, Patton understands that intrusive thoughts are natural and chastising Thomas certainly doesn’t help — Virgil is naturally going to think that if Patton accepts the others, then what bad thing could they do to Thomas?

In the Asides, Virgil made two sarcastic quips towards Patton that were pretty insensative on his part. It would make sense he would make this when Patton accepted that Remus and Janus should be allowed be more prominent:

When Patton suggested they should try to relax: “You [Patton] do realize who you’re talking too?” (ATHD?)

“Oh that’s great, you’re giving Thomas permission.” (WTIT)

Even the 5th anniversary made it clear that Virgil wasn’t too thrilled with Janus being included, and found the best way to actually make him into a flustered mess  (“Ask Janus about our song ‘Lies’”).

So, with that out of the way, what does this mean for the Season 2 finale?

There is going to be tension between the 4 sides that will possibly result in a pissed-off argument: Janus & Patton — who simply want what’s best for Thomas — vs Roman & Virgil — who also want what’s best for Thomas, but are too arrogant to understand the problems of listening to only SPECIFIC sides, rather than all 7.

And that’s what Thomas CANNOT do.

If he listened to Virgil & Roman only, he would not only diminish the importance of the other sides, and a black-and-white mentality + his anxiety would only highlight this need to diminish the others to a concerning degree.

Except Virgil & Roman’s job has nothing to do with Thomas’ morality. Not really:

Janus is Thomas’ self-preservation. He’s there to stop Thomas from going over the edge by reminding him to take care of himself.

Patton is Thomas’ morality. He’s there to as Thomas’ personal guide to what’s right and wrong.

(Another side-note:

That isn’t to say that Roman and Virgil’s concerns aren’t valid. Both Janus and Patton need to stop the other for going too far, but POF expressed the idea that it can ONLY be Patton and Janus. Not any other side because it isn’t their job.

Keep in mind that Patton and Janus are not only mature sides with a grey mentality and understand/accept the mistakes they make, but both are assertive sides. Janus fights back to whoever harms him (as showcased when Roman), and Patton reminds the group if an idea is bad/reminds them not to be arrogant:

SVS: “What is this wacky talk? I- You don't mean any of this. I'm your morality, I wouldn't be here if you did!”

LNTAO:

Logan:

Patton:

Moving On, pt 1:

Thomas: I'm sorry I got excited. I know that Virgil's room is where I have to go in order to heighten my anxiety. I gotta think that your room is literally sunshine and rainbows.

Patton: Wha... -laughs nervously- I— -laughs- It's- It's not quite like that, uh...

Thomas: Still, you're at the core of a lot of my happy feelings.

Patton: I'm at the core of a lot of your feelings.

In-conclusion: It’s going to be a mess. A fight where the 4 sides are so pissed off at each other that nothing will be accomplished.

Prediction #2: Patton will snap

So just before Halloween last year, Thomas posted this picture on his twitter:

This tweet was theorized to be a reference to 2 things:

Logan’s Line in AA pt 1 “Flames. On the side of my face. See-Seething... Seething fire”)

Or what occured in WTIT; specifically that infamous scene with the orange eyes:

Interestingly enough, the Spyro Youtooz was later put on Patton’s box. And this can be seen in the background of 2 videos that occured after this tweet. These videos are the 5th anniversary, and, more recently, the video where Thomas plays FNAF for the first time:

Sanders Sides is a series where the devil is in the details, and the fact that Patton’s box has the Spyro Youtbooz led to many theories regarding one specific side.

Yes, I’m talking about Orange.

If the Orange Side embodies rage/wrath, it would make sense that he would have an effect on the other sides. And if the Season 2 finale has 4 of Thomas’ sides pissed at each other, it wouldn’t be to far-fetched to say that Patton will probably snap out of rage at the other sides — again, probably Roman and/or Virgil, for reasons explained above (aka he’s Thomas’ morality, it’s HIS job to know what is right/wrong for Thomas, not theirs).

(Side-note: This isn’t my theory, btw. Many people have already pointed this out; I just thought to bring this point up again to table.)

There’s actually another point to keep in mind, but if the discussion does turn into an argument where the 4 sides are at each other’s throats, then it makes sense that Orange will have subtle influence. He will definitely play a very important part, just like how Virgil & Remus played a subtle yet important part in POF (<cough, cough> the Trolley Problem).

Another thing to keep in mind: In an anger-driven argument, its easier to tune the other person out that actually listen to them. This is just how all arguments become fights. Because of course you’re right. What do they know? The other person is wrong... right?

Tuning the other person out and attacking them out of anger is what naturally occurs in most fights. And these fights tend to be pointless. Nothing gets accomplished, and in the end, both parties simply feel like it was a waste of time.

Prediction #3: Speaking of Orange’s influence

It’s possible he might make a debut. Not a full debut, but possibly a cameo. Maybe. This is going quite beyond simplicity, but it makes sense considering one simple fact.

Season 2 focuses on Thomas realizing he’s not perfect, and that there is no such thing as labeling “good” or “bad” to individual aspects of his personality. Especially to sides he was completely unaware of.

Still, it will only be a cameo. Not a full debut. I still affirm my point that the Season 2 finale will focus on Janus, Patton, Virgil, & Roman, and not have anything to do with Orange. If he does show up, it will be in a penultimate scene or endcard of Pt 3 or 4, showcasing that he does have influence on the other sides.

And his influence could actually prove that Orange possess a hidden role that Thomas should have and needs: catharsis.

Anger isn’t an emotion you can simply repress; it's practically designed to be let out. Holding it in actually makes the anger a lot more volatile, and just like Remus will actually have consequences the more it isn’t released. If Orange is catharsis, the 4 sides fighting each other will help prevent further fights from occurring in the future. It would further prove the duality of a Side: Orange can be harmful, even violent but be needed to blow off some steam before it gets worse.

Final words:

Ooh boy, this post was a lot. I apologize if it’s a mess, but there is just a lot to talk about. I kind of needed to get it out of my system. Feel free to ask me for clarification if you need any.

(Also, more of a personal note, @beauty-and-passion​ thoughts?)

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Lie to Me

Prompts: Post Pof: Janus is not doing ok, everday he can taste Roman's lies, he can feel Roman's pain. He can feel the ego crumbling. Guilt plagues him as hes done the opposite of protecting the ego. Hey uh... could you write a fic when you have the time? - meltheromanstan

Roman is having issues trying to keep up his facade (and maybe struggling with his work cause ADHD makes everything difficult on top of everything because I love the idea of the twins having ADHD) and he is one bump in the road away from a full on meltdown. And Janus realizes a lie in a conversation that’s concerning and at some point in Roman begrudgingly gives a self deprecating reason and Janus is like heck no and Roman’s like why not and Janus is like because i care? And then Roman breaks down because no one has told him anything like that in a long time. Sorry that’s so long. You can write this whenever, or never if you don’t wanna. Anygay, bye and thank you! - anon

Thank you for the requests! oh this poor man. roman i'm so sorry you didn't do anything to deserve this and here I am hurting you. I'm so sorry bb you need to be wrapped up with a hot chocolate and sat far away from everything.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-hatred, self-doubt, poor roman’s got so much internalized hatred this poor man, some things that can be interpreted as self-harm but nothing explicit

Pairings: main focus on roceit but it can be platonic or romantic you decide, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Word Count: 10,554

Janus hears every single lie in the Mindscape. It doesn't matter whether or not the liar believes it to be true or knows it's a falsehood; if it isn't true, he hears it.

Roman lies. A lot.

Or: 5 times Janus had to hide that he was taking care of Roman, and 1 time he didn't.

1. 

They never gave Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he can be.

 The wedding is an absolute dumpster fire. The aftermath is a nuclear explosion. Roman sinks out in silence, long before the video is over. Virgil never shows up, neither does Remus. Logan is cut off before he can realize it.

 Well, that’s not true.

 Janus cuts Logan off before he can realize it.

 Because he didn’t care about them, no. Patton has the most influence over Thomas. Patton is the one who influences the other Sides more than they realize most of the time. And Patton is the one who needed to listen.

 So it didn’t matter that the others weren’t there when Janus had to talk to Patton and Thomas, because it worked. Thomas listened, Patton finally understood, and things could start getting better.

 …or so he thought.

 In fairness, the others came around…fairly quickly. He approached Logan with a book on philosophy and an apology on his lips, only to be swept up into a conversation that had drawn both Patton and Virgil into the living room by the end of the day. It felt…well, right isn’t the correct word, but…warm, perhaps. Yes, let’s go with warm.

 Of course, Remus belly-flopping onto the couch—and the rest of them—near the end was certainly an additional factor.

 But Roman…

 Janus didn’t expect Roman to forgive him. Certainly not quickly. He certainly expected Roman to forgive the others for whatever little parts they played in harming the prince’s precious ego. And he absolutely expected the prince to admit that he was wrong, that it was indeed his fault that everything had gone so spectacularly wrong.

 The first time Roman walks into the kitchen after the wedding, Janus flinches.

 Virgil notices and all but jumps in front of him, snarling a ‘what do you want?’ in Roman’s direction. Patton had turned around and his smile had frozen, staring at Roman.

 “Hello, Roman,” Logan says cooly, “may we help you?”

 “Yeesh, aren’t you lot jumpy this morning?” Roman shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “I am not here to grace you all with my glorious presence, simply to grab a little food and depart on a quest!”

 “Thank god,” Virgil mutters, too low for Roman to hear.

 He pushes Janus behind him as Roman waltzes into the kitchen to take something out of the cupboard.

 “…when will you be back,” Patton asks warily, “and where are you going?”

 “Into the Imagination, my dear Padre!” Roman spreads his arms wide. “To see where the spirit of adventure takes me!”

 “That answers only one of the questions.” Logan closes his notebook sharply.

 “Time is a social construct,” Roman says airily, “but I suppose I shall try to return for dinner?”

 “Don’t force yourself,” Virgil snarks, crossing his arms, “looks hard enough already.”

 Roman just laughs and leaves.

 “Goodness,” Patton mumbles, leaning on the counter, “I didn’t expect him to be so—so—“

 “Roman?” Virgil rolls his eyes. “Princey’s got a head bigger than a fucking balloon—“

 “Language.”

 “—and he’s not gonna come down to earth for anything.”

 “Roman is—or can be—remarkably immature when it comes to admitting his mistakes,” Logan adds, “it’s not to be completely unexpected that he is still in denial.”

 Patton sighs. “I know, I just…expected better.”

 “Don’t hold your breath,” Virgil huffs, “what about you, Janus? Are you hurt?”

 “I also noticed you flinch,” Logan says, standing, “are you alright? Did Roman…”

 “He didn’t hurt you, did he, kiddo?”

 No. No, Janus is absolutely fine right now.

 The instant Roman had appeared in the doorway, the lies slammed into Janus.

  They hate you, they never want to see you again.

  Everything is your fault.

  Virgil is right to try and shield Janus from you, you were so fucking cruel to him.

  They don’t deserve to be burdened with you.

  Leave. Leave so they never have to put up with you. You know they don’t want you.

  They’ve never wanted you.

 And yet, as clearly as he heard those lies, he heard Roman, the blustery, pompous Prince, loud as ever, spoiled as ever. He saw Roman, the swaggering adventurer, the cocky Creativity who was always right, always the center of attention.

 The actor.

 Janus had definitely given him enough credit for that.

 “Janus?”

 Right, they’re still waiting for an answer.

 “I’m fine,” he says, a beat too late, “just caught off guard, that’s all.”

 Virgil eyes him suspiciously. “You’re lying.”

 “Well of course I am,” Janus sighs, rolling his eyes, “it’s not like Deceit is one of my primary functions, after all.”

 “Kiddo,” Patton says, “you know you can tell us if Roman—if someone hurts you, right?”

 Something pinches just under his chin. “I know.”

 “…so?”

 He shakes his head. “Roman hasn’t hurt me, nor has he threatened to.”

 Virgil bumps his shoulder. “Just…keep us in the loop, okay?”

 “Because it’s very likely that Roman will hurt me.”

 The others chuckle or brush it off. Of course, they did. When they aren’t paying attention, Janus lets his gaze trail up the stairs, following the line where the prince vanished. The others have never paid much attention to when Roman returns from his ‘quests.’

 Janus does.

 Even if Janus weren’t consciously coming to the prince’s aid, he’s certain he’d be summoned regardless.

 He waits, quiet in the shadows, for the telltale squeak of the lower hinge on the red wardrobe door in Roman’s room. He’s learned to keep still, keep quiet, not yet fully materialized, watching as Roman stumbles back through the door, one of his arms sagging in relief as the other holds him up. The door creaks shut and a shuddering breath leaves the prince’s chest.

 His head bows.

 Before the charade completely falls away, Roman pushes himself up and starts getting ready to sleep. His sash, normally laid so carefully over the back of his chair, is given barely a second thought as he throws his costume onto the floor. Janus winces at the slam of the bathroom door and again at the way Roman all but collapses into the bed with a miserable expression on his face. He doesn’t need to pry away the pillow to know that Roman is desperate.

  Stupid, stupid, worthless prince.

  Not even a fucking prince, not even the fucking squire.

  Useless, can’t even do your fucking job.

  Can’t even stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself even though you know damn well you don’t deserve it.

  You don’t deserve anything.

 Janus grits his teeth and waits. Waits for Roman’s lies to grow less vitriolic, more sluggish, waits for Roman’s breathing to even out, sagging against the pillow, before he moves.

 His footsteps are silent as he crosses the room, keeping a wary eye on the door, lest someone else knock and wake up the now sleeping prince. He swallows, leaning down, his lips barely brushing the curve of Roman’s ear.

 He doesn’t touch, doesn’t want to risk waking him now.

 “You’re not stupid, Roman,” he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard, even by himself. “You’re not worthless, you’ve never been worthless.”

 Roman shifts in his sleep. Janus freezes. He stills and he breathes out. Bends just a little closer.

 “And you deserve to know that.”

 Even if he can only even whisper it when Roman is too deep in sleep to hear him.

 2. 

The lies don’t stop. They just get worse.

 Fortunately, Janus’s powers aren’t limited by the physical space, not when the lies are particularly pervasive. For example, every time Logan insists that he doesn’t have feelings, or Virgil insists he doesn’t care about the others, or Patton says—particularly passionately—that everything’s fine, Janus hears it. These ones typically merit a scoff and a roll of the eyes, or a quip if he’s actually in the same room. These ones he’s used to.

 Here’s the thing about the lies that Janus can hear; it doesn’t matter whether or not they’re lies that someone knows is a lie or whether it’s something they believe. If it isn’t true, Janus will hear it.

 Case in point: Roman’s lies, and the lies that took Janus far too long to figure out were lies.

 When he decides to tune into Roman’s mind, he’s normally greeted with statements lauding about how amazing the prince is, how he’s the best Side, how much he loves himself. Even when he’s not paying particular attention to Roman, he can hear those sentiments loud and clear.

 The issue with that? He can hear them loud and clear.

 Now, is it likely that these are things that Roman believes that aren’t true? The possibility exists.

 Is it more likely, given recent…developments, that these are things that Roman has known aren’t true, and is intentionally thinking them in order to keep playing a role?

 No, of course not, why would you ever think that?

 They won’t go away. He can barely look at Roman now, can’t stop seeing, hearing all the lies he tells himself every day. The others are starting to worry, growing colder towards Roman, concerned about how much Janus tries to put distance between them. Virgil keeps shoving himself in between the two of them, Logan keeps pulling Janus into long conversations that Roman wouldn’t dare insert himself into, Patton makes sure the two of them are never alone.

 Well, almost never alone.

 The lies are the worst at night. When Roman is in his room, curled up under the covers, his head buried in his hands, they roam freely, coloring the red curtains with shadows, smearing themselves over his paintings, his drawings, his writing, his keyboard.

  They’re right to be scared of you, right to hate you.

  You don’t deserve their forgiveness, especially when you haven’t even apologized for the amount of things you’ve done wrong.

  And you’re selfish enough to want a fucking apology from them?

 Janus, waiting in the corner for Roman to fall asleep, winces, the strength and magnitude of the lie filling his mouth with bitterness.

 Does he deserve an apology from Roman? Yes, perhaps, that would be nice. Laughing at his name in a moment of vulnerability was…perhaps not ideal.

 But the idea that Roman doesn’t deserve an apology? From any of them?

 Roman, the only one who consistently defers and gives and tries and hopes for them, the one who works nonstop to make sure they have something, anything to do, for Thomas, for each other, the only one who’s called out to apologize to them, who apologizes to them when he realizes he’s done something wrong?

 Roman deserves an apology. If only to make up for the amount of times he’s been blamed for something that someone else started.

 A noise.

 Janus blinks, coming back to the present as Roman stirs. For a moment, he worries that the prince has woken up, that he’s discovered someone else in his room, only for a trail of sluggish lies to funnel into his mind.

  Janus hates you more than anyone else and he’s right to.

  You hurt Janus on purpose.

  You never stop hurting Janus.

  You will always be someone he can use, a puppet, until you are nothing more than an obstacle.

 Before he can stop himself, he’s striding across the room to murmur in Roman’s ear again, chest aching with the weight of the lies.

 “The others,” he murmurs, flooding the words with as much sincerity as he can, “they don’t know what I can hear, what they have never noticed, and that is what hurts me, my prince, that you are so quiet and so brave that you can convince the world that you’re not suffering.”

 Roman clutches his pillow a little tighter.

 “I don’t hate you, my prince, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me like that, and I know—“ he takes a deep breath— “I know that the hurt you caused me is nothing compared to what I have done to you.”

 He closes his eyes and feels the guilt well up in his chest. He knows he can’t say the full apology that Roman needs—that he deserves right now. He can’t even begin to imagine all the little things he hasn’t even realized he’s done to Roman, how many things he’s done that he’s forgotten that were just another Tuesday to him, but rewrote entire chapters of Roman’s life.

 He can’t begin to imagine how much of this could’ve been stopped if only he’d realized just how hurt Roman has always been.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m sorry that I never realized how far I let this get.”

 3. 

Roman is touch-starved, he realized, horrified one day when he walks into the living room to see Logan and Patton sitting on the couch, Virgil sprawled across their laps, and Roman in the corner, far away from everyone else, hiding such a look of heartbreak that Janus almost stops in the doorway as Remus brushes past him.

 “Hey!” Virgil splutters when Remus lies down on top of him.

 “Remus!” Patton pushes lightly at him. “You’re going to squish Virgil!”

 “He’s durable, he’s used to it.”

 Logan raises his eyebrows, looking to Janus for confirmation. Janus sighs.

 “I can remember every single time I’ve walked into our living room to see the two of them on the couch,” he says dryly, “and I’m certain that all of them have started with Remus asking Virgil’s permission to lie on top of him for hours.”

 “See?” Remus wraps his arms around Virgil. “He’s fine.”

 “Yeah, yeah, Pat and L’s knees won’t be though.”

 “Ooh! Did you know that some people have a third bone in their knee?”

 “I would be more than happy to follow this train of conversation,” Logan mutters, “if you were to get off my lap.”

 “Fine.”

 Janus shakes his head again as Remus clambers off, landing cross-legged next to Logan on the couch and immediately info-dumping. Virgil sighs and scoots, laying his head in Patton’s lap and going back to his phone. Patton runs his hand through Virgil’s hair and wiggles his free hand at Janus.

 “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”

 Remus snorts, interrupting his tirade long enough to say: “Jan-Jan’s not a cuddler,” before going back to talking about…something to do with knees. Patton frowns.

 “What?”

 “’S true.” Virgil peers up at him. “He’ll hug you if you ask for it but he’s not big on cuddling.”

 “O-oh.”

 “He should still come sit with us, though,” Virgil says quickly, shooting Janus a very subtle look, “so get over here, J.”

 Janus sits, pulling out his book and opening it. After a few seconds, Patton looks away, and Virgil tunes out again.

 Good.

 The lies were getting a little too hard to stand.

 Here, behind his book, he can shift his attention to Roman, scribbling in his notebook and looking every bit the creative genius at work, dead to the world, couldn’t give less interest as to what’s going on around him.

 As he said, Roman is a fantastic actor.

 This time, it’s not even that the words are the thing hurting him now. No, these lies are the type he’s more used to, someone frantically muttering the same thing to themselves over and over and over, trying to convince themselves it’s true. The problem is what’s being carried with the lies, and how deep this need must run in order for it to make it to Janus.

  I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.

 Roman’s hand is trembling a little on his pen as his brow furrows, eyes skating back and forth over the page. The ache starts just under his chin, right where it meets his throat, and surges, rushing through his arms to the very tips of his fingers. All of them, even the hidden ones. His gloves twitch on the pages of the book.

 He’s so cold.

  I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.

 The words start to blur together. It hurts. His arms ache. He risks looking more openly at Roman only for him to notice, looking back and quirking an eyebrow.

 “Something wrong, Deceit?”

 “He has a name,” Virgil growls.

 “Janus,” Roman amends, shooting Virgil a glance, “is there something wrong?”

 “Why’re you over there?”

 He meant to ask why Roman wasn’t sitting with the other Sides. He meant to ask whether Roman chose to sit by himself and starve himself of physical contact or if the others had cut him off. He meant to ask if Roman wanted to come to sit with the rest of them.

 Instead, Roman smiles.

 “You’re right. It’s getting quite late. I must be off!”

 Before Janus can say anything, Roman assumes his dramatic pose and sinks out, cheerily declaring his farewells.

 Next to him, Patton lets out a shaky breath.

 “Goodness.”

 Logan adjusts his glasses. “Quite.”

 “Thanks, Janus,” Virgil mutters, making himself more comfortable, “I thought he’d never leave.”

 No.

 No, no, no, this is all wrong.

 “Why did you want him to leave?”

 Virgil shrugs. “It’s harder when he’s here.”

 “Harder how?”

 “We do not know how to act around Roman,” Logan admits, fixing his tie, “he’s not—well, he seems content to behave as if nothing is wrong, and…”

 “It’s not,” Patton says softly. He fiddles with his hands. “We can’t go back to the way it was before, and Roman…Roman doesn’t seem to know how to move on.”

 Virgil snorts. “Not that he seems to care enough to try.”

 Well, if the lies still plaguing Roman’s thoughts are any indication…

  Why would they want to touch you? You ruin everything you touch, haven’t you ruined enough already? Haven’t you ruined them enough already?

  They’re done trying with you. They hate you. It’s a wonder they only realize it now.

  Broken, useless, toxic prince. Finally left out in the cold where you deserve to be.

 Roman curls up under his thin sheet, the heavy blankets put away for the colder seasons too far away and too close to Patton’s room for him to get them safely. Janus watches as he twitches miserably, curling up tighter, turning over, hugging his pillow to his chest, trying, trying to feel warm. Every now and then there’s a quiet noise, quickly stifled. His arms start to ache again, not just from the cold, but from how much Roman seems to believe that no one wants to touch him.

 He makes up his mind.

 He sinks out to his room, quickly grabbing one of his weighted blankets from his own storage. Returning to Roman’s room, he waits with bated breath until Roman’s chest rises and falls at a steady rate before carefully creeping forward and spreading the blanket over the prince.

 “Don’t make yourself cold,” he murmurs, tucking it into place, “stay warm for me, my prince, stay warm, it’s alright.”

 Roman shifts, turning his head so it accidentally brushes Janus’s hand.

 Janus freezes.

 Roman hums slightly and falls back asleep. Shaking, Janus moves his fingers, letting them card through Roman’s hair. The prince mumbles and doesn’t wake.

 He does it again, firmer this time. Roman all but melts under this, just this, just a proper blanket over him and someone running their fingers through his hair.

 “Oh, Roman,” Janus murmurs, unable to resist cupping Roman’s face in his hand, “you’re don’t ruin everything you touch, far from it.”

 He cups the back of Roman’s head, guiding it to a more comfortable angle.

 “On the contrary,” he whispers, “you make us better.”

 And maybe…maybe he can try and provide a little of what Roman needs. Even if they have to be stolen moments, felt only on the very edges of sleep, when Roman is conscious enough to remember them but not lucid enough to lie and say he doesn’t deserve it.

 4. 

The time when Roman barely managed to stumble through the door in his room before passing out is the only time Janus seriously considers calling the others to help.

 But no, he reminds himself as he rushes to the prince’s side, they would want to wake him up, to scold him, to figure out exactly what he thought he was doing, whether or not he’s considered whether this is hurting Thomas.

 Janus bites back a growl as he starts examining the prince.

 Perhaps if they were so concerned about whether or not hurting Roman hurts Thomas, they’d be more considerate about what they say to him.

 He pushes that away for now, more focused on getting Roman’s tight collar away from his neck and checking the state of his bruises. From what he can see from the dirt on the costume, he’s fallen, from quite a significant height, and who knows what else might be hiding under here?

 “I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he looks around for something to help, “but I may have to peel you out of these.”

 Sure enough, he can get most of the costume top off fairly easily—and gains a newfound respect for how difficult it must be to put the thing on by himself, there are so many buttons—but the undershirt proves more difficult, especially as it seems to be stuck in places that it should not be stuck in.

 …oh.

 Oh, no.

 Janus bites back a curse and moves quickly. One arm reaches for the first aid kit he knows is in the bathroom, one arm grabs a pillow and stuffs it under Roman’s head, two gently move his arms up and over his head, and two carefully, carefully take the edge of the undershirt and beginning to take it off.

 He presses a gauze pad to the wound over Roman’s hip.

 He holds an ice pack to the swollen lump on his rib cage.

 He checks over the wound on his chest.

 He tilts Roman’s head from side to side to see how far up the bruises go.

 The pants have to come next and Janus grits his teeth, running his hand over Roman’s forehead as an apology before he shucks the article of clothing.

 More bruises. So many bruises. Thankfully no more bleeding wounds.

 He lets out a breath and sits back on his haunches, staring down at the injured prince.

 The best thing about it, he decides, is that there’s no way for Roman to know that he would’ve been safe passing out and not taking care of any of these.

 The wound on his hip has all but stopped bleeding as Janus tends to it carefully, wiping away the blood and soothing the angry skin with a balm, covering the whole thing with a bandage. The mark on his chest isn’t as bad as it looks, bits of dead skin that Janus clears away and brushes off Roman’s torso. The antiseptic makes him hiss a little and he rubs soothing circles into his tummy until he resettles, murmuring that he’s doing so well, he’s almost done, they’ll get him into bed and he can rest.

 None of the bruises on his legs are bad enough to merit bruise cream, let alone keeping the poor thing from his bed for a moment longer. Instead, Janus quickly covers the one on his ribs and lifts the prince into his arms.

 Roman jolts.

 “Shh, shh,” Janus murmurs, stroking a free hand through his hair, “shh, shh, shh…”

 Roman shushes, just in time for Janus to lie him down and tuck him in, one hand still in his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed. A furrow grows between his brows.

  Should’ve gotten hurt worse.

 Janus freezes.

  Should’ve let them hit you more.

  Got off too easy.

  It should hurt more. You deserve it. Maybe if you pay enough it’ll get better.

 “No, sweetie,” Janus whispers, reaching out before he can stop himself and cradling Roman’s sleeping head in his hands, “no, no, no, don’t ever believe that we want to see you hurt.”

  Shouldn’t have come back.

  Shouldn’t be a burden.

  At least none of the others know about it, they would only complain and ignore you. Useless, worthless prince.

 “You’re not worthless, sweetie,” Janus promises, still cradling the poor thing’s head, running his fingers through his hair to keep him lulled and asleep, “shh, now, everything’s alright, hush now…”

 As the lies drift off into nothingness, Roman along with them, Janus’s face falls.

 Roman is the protector. The prince that will always put himself between them and whatever dared to try and hurt them. He’s not meant to fight a war on two fronts.

  Who protects the protector?

 “I will, sweetie,” Janus whispers, so, so quietly as he tidies up Roman’s room and gives the sleeping prince one last pat, “I’ll look after you.”

 5. 

Roman, perhaps more than any of the others, is essential to Thomas’s mental help.

 Roman is Thomas’s hopes and dreams, the things he wants above all else, the things he strives for, the things he desires. He reaches and reaches and reaches for Thomas, holds every single one of his wants close to his chest, and keeps them safe until they can bubble up into reality.

 Roman is romance, the reason Patton gets all fluttery and bubbly inside. He’s the suave, fabulous, gay disaster that encourages Thomas to be happy, to reach for who he wants, for who he desires.

 Roman is creativity, the livelihood that Thomas has chosen. He works nonstop, tirelessly producing idea after idea for Thomas to film, to write, to create, so Thomas can live and be proud of what he’s doing.

 Roman is the Ego.

 What is the Ego, you may ask? Well, although Freud is largely considered bullshit by modern psychologists—or at the very least, upsetting due to the fact that his research was largely corrupted by the rich men funding it—there are certain aspects of his work that remain in the public mind.

 Simply put, the Ego is the conscious mind. It is the sum of your thoughts, beliefs, and habits as they interact with your physical body. The tether that stretches into your awareness and consciousness and into your physical form. It is a combination of body-thoughts-feelings and the consciousness taken to activate it.

 The Ego gives you a sense of self-worth. It is a mask, one you put on and play as a role.

 Everyone and anyone, it seems, has been warned about the dangers of an out-of-control Ego. Overconfident, hubristic, arrogant, with no regard for others. A vapid complainer, sustained by the power of approval hoarded selfishly. You are encouraged, if not instructed outright, to learn how to live without paying any attention to your Ego.

 Here’s what they don’t tell you.

 The Ego is what you think of yourself. It gives you self-worth because that’s its job. To make you feel secure in who you are. It is sustained by approval because it lives in fear. It itself puts on a mask of strength, of imperviousness, that it is indestructible, because it is soft, malleable, and so very afraid.

 It is true that the Ego is nourished by positive comments, because it isn’t a crime to feel good, or to feel proud, or to want to be validated. It is true that the Ego sometimes reaches too high, only to fall, because that is its nature, to want, and to hope.

 They don’t tell you that when you turn your hatred inwards, your Ego doesn’t just bruise, it crumbles.

 So when Logan constantly tells Roman that they can’t do something, or it isn’t a worthy use of their time, despite his best intentions, he’s not doing much other than snatching Roman’s dreams away. Roman learns not to ignore Logan, yes, but at the expense of constantly being told that it is his fault when Thomas feels crushed, never mind that Roman is crushed, too.

 So when Virgil insults and belittles his worth, tells him he’s stupid and unimportant, despite the fact that Roman will snipe back at him, all he does is reinforce the idea that Roman is the only one at fault, that Virgil is allowed to sit and insult him to his heart’s content while Roman has to apologize for standing up for himself. Roman learns to stand quietly while Virgil tells Thomas he’s a disappointment until the time comes where he believes it’s true.

 So when Patton decides that Roman is bad, after how much Roman has sacrificed for Patton, to do what would make Patton happy, Thomas happy, when all he needs is just someone on his side, something, anything, Roman has to stand there, alone, hurt, angry, upset, and be told that he’s wrong. Roman learns that he’s only here to give, not to receive, that no one will hold him when he falls apart.

 So when Remus starts to show up, more and more, less and less restrained, no one puts it together that Roman literally does not have the strength to hold him back. Roman learns that the others don’t realize how little confidence he already has, only that their approval of him is directly proportional to how much they hate his brother.

 So when Janus decides that Thomas needs to take better care of himself and that the only one he needs to focus on is Patton, Roman is the perfect tool, the perfect puppet, to be used and tossed aside when he no longer needs him, because it’s so easy to twist and turn the little prince so he dances in just the right way, never mind how much it hurts. Roman learns that no one ever cared about him, not really, and perhaps they never will.

 As you might be able to imagine, destroying the thing that gives one self-worth is absolutely the best way to go about things.

 Can any of you guess where the blame gets pushed when Thomas’s mental health suddenly plummets?

 It’s definitely where it should be.

 The thing that scares Janus the most about how that meeting goes is how resigned Roman is.

 His hands are folded neatly behind his back. His face is politely blank. His mind is quiet.

 When there’s a break in the conversation—if you could even call it that—he opens his mouth.

 “What would you like me to do?”

 “Have you not been listening?” Logan adjusts his glasses. “To…anything we have said?”

 “Of fucking course he hasn’t,” Virgil grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 “Kiddo,” Patton admonishes, crossing his arms, “Thomas hasn’t had any ideas or dreams lately and it’s stressing him out.”

 “Which means you need to get out of the pity party and back to reality with the rest of us,” Virgil adds.

 “Which means,” Logan sighs, crossing his arms too, “you are going to have to start talking to us again.”

 Roman looks between them. “Are we not…talking now?”

 “He means actually interacting with us, Princey.”

 “Have I…not been doing that?”

 “It means accepting that things have changed,” Logan snaps, “and working through it.”

 Roman tilts his head. “How would you like me to do that?”

 “Well—“ Logan adjusts his glasses— “let’s start with an apology.”

 Something flickers across Roman’s face. Janus looks back and forth between Thomas and Remus. Thomas just looks a little confused as to what’s going on—which, when doesn’t he?—and Remus is staring right at Roman. There’s a strange expression on his face.

 “What would you like me to apologize for?”

 Janus winces when Virgil scoffs, turning away, and Logan’s mouth hardens into a thin line.

 “Why don’t you try starting,” Patton says, “and we’ll see.”

 “No, you know what? No.” Virgil points a finger at Roman. “I’m done holding your hand through all of this. Waiting for you to realize that you fucked up.”

 “Virgil—“

 “No, Pat!” Virgil gestures between the three of them. “You know how hard it’s been on us, waiting for something to change, and now he wants us to just…what, walk him through what he did wrong?”

 Patton spares a glance at Roman before looking away.

 Roman’s face twitches. He looks down.

 “Perhaps Virgil is right,” Logan says, “when Roman can try taking the first step, then maybe this conversation will be more productive. Until then, I see no reason to waste time.”

 “Great. Bye, Thomas.”

 “Wait, you guys are just leaving?”

 “I see no reason to simply stand here and be unproductive,” Logan shrugs, “perhaps if something changes, you can summon us back.”

 “Doubt it,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Logan’s shoulder and sinking them out. Patton spares one last look at Roman before he leaves too.

 Thomas shuffles a little. Remus keeps staring at Roman.

 After a moment, Roman moves.

 “…you want me to apologize?”

 Janus definitely imagines the chill that goes through the room.

 Roman raises his head. He does not look at where Patton stood, he does not look at where Virgil stood, he does not look at where Logan stood.

 He looks directly at Thomas.

 “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

 Thomas splutters. “Roman—“

 “I’m sorry that I sent you to the wedding,” Roman says softly, Thomas’s words dying in his throat, “I’m sorry that I made a decision that I thought you wanted. I’m sorry that I tried to put your friends above your own wants, because I thought that was right. I’m sorry that I thought I was doing what was right.”

 Thomas’s eyes go wide.

 “I’m sorry that you never had faith that you would win the callback,” Roman continues, never once looking away from Thomas, “I’m sorry that your dreams are always too far away, that you must always feel the need to crush them in favor of what is more practical. I’m sorry that you constantly feel like you’re set up to be one big disappointment.”

 Janus’s arms drop in shock.

 “I’m sorry that I can’t do what you want,” and by this point, Thomas looks on the verge of tears, “even though that’s supposed to be my job. I’m sorry that nothing I do is ever good enough on its own, that you feel so afraid, so scared of doing the things you want. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel even the tiniest bit of my fear.”

 Thomas stifles a noise.

 “I’m sorry that I don’t know things.” Roman chuckles sadly. “I’m sorry that it takes me so much time to figure out what to do. I’m sorry that it always feels like everyone’s one step ahead of me, that you have to wait for me to catch up, even though I never, ever do. I’m sorry for not sticking to the plan.”

 Something heavy presses against Janus’s throat.

 “And I’m sorry that I’m hurt. I’m sorry that it’s been a little too much for me to handle. I’m sorry that my pain is an inconvenience to you.”

 “R-Roman—“

 Roman just smiles sadly when Thomas can’t finish the sentence. He spreads his arms, giving a little gesture to himself.

 “I’m sorry that this is your Ego.”

 Janus sees the moment the horrified realization dawns on Thomas’s face.

 “I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Remus snarls and it’s only years of practice that makes Janus’s reflexes fast enough to catch hold of him before he sinks out. “Let me go!”

 “You can’t hurt them,” Janus grunts, “you know you can’t.”

 “Fucking watch me!”

 “No, no, Remus,” Thomas splutters, “don’t—don’t do that.”

 “Why the fuck not?” Remus snarls, spittle flying from his lips as he struggles against Janus’s hold. “You heard what Roman just said, they—they—“

 “We did it too, Remus,” Janus says softly, glancing at Roman, “we’re not blameless either.”

 Remus keeps struggling. “Let—me—“

 “Remus.”

 Roman’s soft voice still the duke entirely, his head whipping around. Roman just stares at him, resignation and acceptance written plainly on his features.

 “It’s not fair, Ro,” he mumbles.

 “Life isn’t fair.”

 “I—I can summon them back, we can get them back, they can listen to you—“

 “But they won’t,” Roman cuts off in the same soft fury, “they won’t listen to me.”

 “Roman, they love you!”

 Janus winces. Roman just turns to look at him. He can’t meet his eyes.

 “Maybe,” Roman says eventually, “maybe not. Either way…”

 He spreads his hands.

 “Here we are.”

 “Let me go, Jan.”

 “If I do, will you stay?”

 “Fine.”

 Janus lets him go, only for Remus to lunge and wrap his brother in a tight hug. Roman stands there, immobile, until Remus lets out a howl. Roman just murmurs another soft ‘I’m sorry,' and sinks out.

 Remus collapses to the floor, his Morningstar cupped in his hands.

 “What—what just happened?”

 “The twins share things,” Janus murmurs quietly, his eyes still on Remus, “including emotions when they are particularly strong.”

 “So—“ Thomas shakes his head— “so Remus is feeling what Roman’s feeling?”

 “No,” Remus snarls, still gripping the weapon tightly, “I’m feeling what Roman isn’t feeling.”

 He stands up, eyes blazing.

 “I am what Roman isn’t. To you. What Roman isn’t, I am. Which means—“ his knuckles turn white— “the fact that I’m feeling so strongly right now means that Roman isn’t.”

 Thomas goes pale. “What?”

 “Roman is numb,” Janus says quietly, “he’s closed himself off from…everything. To protect himself.”

 “It means my brother, the good Creativity, passion, desire, romance, hopes and dreams, whatever you want to call him,” Remus growls, “is now numb, touch-starved, and too afraid of rejection to reach out for anything.”

 “What do I do,” Thomas asks frantically, “how do we fix this?”

 “You can let me kill the others.”

 “No, Remus.”

 “Talk to them,” Janus suggests instead, “I’m not sure they realize what Roman being the Ego means.”

 Thomas nods. “Okay, we can do that. Should we do that…now?”

 Janus opens his mouth to respond only for something very familiar to trickle into his mind, along with an all-too-familiar tug.

  Stupid, useless, worthless, toxic, dumb, unimportant, bad, can’t do anything right, selfish, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong—

 “Not now,” he manages, “get some rest. You need it.”

 Thomas nods tiredly. Remus just gives him a look that says ‘you’d better not fuck this up’ and leaves, probably to go work out some of his aggression on creatures in the Imagination.

 Janus sinks straight into Roman’s room and his heart breaks.

 Roman is on the floor, pieces of his prince costume thrown haphazardly around him, sobbing hysterically. It’s so loud that for a moment, Janus worries that someone else will come, trying to figure out what’s wrong, before he’s hit with another wave of lies.

  Broken broken broken broken broken broken broken broken wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless—

 He aches.

 Because he knows he can’t do anything while Roman’s awake. He’d never let him close, never let him see this. A sick feeling crawls into Janus’s stomach at the thought of invading Roman’s privacy like this but it wars with the knowledge that he’d be summoned anyway, and that Roman is falling apart.

 So he has to wait.

 Watching as Roman falls apart, believing himself unloved, unwanted, and unseen.

 Slowly, far too slowly, the harsh sobs morph into softer cries, then sniffles, then Roman stills, slumping on the carpet as his breathing evens out. Tears of his own threaten the corners of Janus’s eyes.

 The poor thing cried himself to sleep.

 But as he moves closer, reaching out a hand to stroke back his hair, he lets out a coo before he can stop himself when he sees more tears.

 The poor thing cried himself to sleep and kept crying.

 “Oh, sweetie,” Janus whispers, moving to cradle him as gently as he can without waking him, “sweetie you come here, shh, shh, honey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

 He lifts the poor prince into his arms, moving swiftly to the bed and laying him down, tucking him in protectively and running his fingers through his hair.

 “It’s okay, sweetie, you’re safe now, it’s okay, you’re safe…” He settles Roman’s head on the pillow. “Shh, shh, shh, that’s it, shh…”

 Sleep-clumsy fingers curl around his arms. Oh. Oh, dear. Well…

 “Oh, sweetie, are you—do you want me to stay?” Janus tries to pull away a bit only for Roman to grumble and hang on. “Oh—okay, sweetie, I’ll stay, just—just a moment.”

 He snaps the fingers on a free hand and changes into something softer, something he can sleep in, something Roman can hold and cuddle. He slides into bed next to him, only to be immediately cuddled by a sleeping, still crying Roman.

 “Shh, sweetie,” he whispers, nuzzling Roman’s head, “I’m right here, I’m not leaving, I won’t leave you.”

 Roman mumbles something and snuggles into Janus’s chest. He makes another comforting noise at the evidence of more tears.

 “It’s gonna be okay, sweetie, I promise, I’ll look after you, I’ll take care of you.”

 And when Roman lets out a little cry, still asleep, he breaks, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

 Roman melts.

 “Oh, sweetie…”

 Janus spoils him with kisses, across his forehead, down his tear-stained cheeks, running his hands through his hair, down his arms, over his back, soothing a particularly painful hitch with a hand on his tummy, rubbing gently until he lapses back into a peaceful sleep. He buries his face in Roman’s hair and holds him tight.

 He swallows heavily, guilt and concern warring in his throat.

 “I don’t want you to think,” he begins carefully, “that I’m only apologizing because I feel guilty over seeing you hurt and that it’s my fault.”

 He tightens his grip on the sleeping prince.

 “I am sorry, Roman,” he whispers with his lips against Roman’s forehead as if to speak the truth into the prince’s dreams, “for all the hurt I have caused you. For using and manipulating you, for dismissing you and letting you think you were useless, and for letting the others make you believe you were so unlovable.”

 He shudders, his breath coming out shaky.

 “But mostly…” he swallows, “mostly I’m sorry that I won’t be brave enough to say that to you when you’re awake.”

 +1.

Janus blinks. There’s sunlight coming in through the curtains.

 His room definitely has curtains.

 Oh. Right. He’s in Roman’s room.

 Shit, he’s still in Roman’s room.

 He’s fallen asleep, he realizes, in Roman’s bed, with Roman cuddled protectively to his chest, after the poor thing had sobbed himself to sleep in the aftermath of that awful, awful meeting.

 Unconsciously, he goes to tighten his grip on the sleeping prince before realizing that he should be doing the opposite.

 He should leave. Now. Before Roman wakes up and sees him.

 He definitely wants to be around for that conversation.

 So, despite the ache in his stomach at the thought of leaving Roman alone right now, he grits his teeth and starts trying to disentangle himself from Roman, despite Roman’s best efforts to cling onto him. If he weren’t so afraid of the consequences of getting caught, he’d find it adorable.

 Okay, maybe he still finds it adorable.

 But Roman’s so soft when he sleeps, so lovely, so unabashed at chasing what he wants. He clings to Janus’s shirt with clumsy fingers, burbles soft noises of protest when Janus’s warmth leaves his side.

 “Come on, sweetie,” Janus coaxes, gently prying Roman’s fingers off, “let me go, you don’t want me to be here when you wake up.”

 “Mmno.”

 “You say that now…” He still won’t let go. “Come on, sweetie, let me go…”

 He leans down to press a kiss to his cheek, hoping Roman will melt and he can escape.

 “That’s it, just go back to sleep, sweetie,” he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic, carding his fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead, “sleep, sleep, sleep…”

 “Stay,” comes the sleepy little mumble, its voice still lost in the dream, “take care ‘f me.”

 The earnest plea brings a sad little smile to Janus’s face.

 “If you knew who I was,” he whispers, “you wouldn’t ask that.”

 Roman opens his eyes and stares right at him.

 Janus freezes, his hands still caught in Roman’s hair, Roman’s hands still gripping his shirt.

 “Stay,” Roman repeats, his tongue thick with sleep but awake, “don’t run away this time.”

 This time?

 Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

 Janus swallows. “How long—“

 “You said you didn’t hate me,” Roman mumbles, still tugging on Janus’s shirt to get him back, “and that it hurt more that the others didn’t realize.”

 “You were supposed to be asleep.”

 “You were supposed to hate me.” Roman tugs harder. “Come back.”

 Janus gets slowly back into position, letting Roman cling to him like a child with a teddy bear. Without permission, his own arms wrap around the sleepy prince, and Roman all but purrs.

 “We c’n talk later,” the prince mumbles, already drifting back to sleep, “but stay. Want you to stay.”

 And…well, if it’s the first time Roman’s asked for something he wants in god knows how long, what else is Janus supposed to do but obey?

 “Alright, sweetie, I’m right here,” he murmurs, curling his arms tightly around the poor prince, “do you want to try and go back to sleep?”

 “Mm.”

 But his eyes don’t drift closed. Instead, they stay glassily alert, one hand fisted loosely in the slack of Janus’s shirt.

 “Sweetie,” Janus calls after a little, “do you want to change into something easier to sleep in?”

 He lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.

 “Can I help?”

 Another shrug. Janus tucks a loose piece of hair behind Roman’s ear, snapping his fingers to put the costume on the mannequin in the closet and replace it with a soft red shirt and boxers. He presses another kiss to Roman’s forehead and ruffles his hair.

 “Why don’t you hate me?”

 Janus frowns, pulling Roman closer. “How could I hate you?”

 He holds a finger gently up to the prince’s lips before the lies can fill Roman’s head again.

 “Let me rephrase: I don’t hate you, Roman, I promise.”

 Roman’s disbelief is palpable. “But why?”

 ...maybe he is going to have to do this.

 “I can hear lies,” he murmurs, “whenever someone says them or thinks them. If they’re not true, I’ll hear it. No, no—stay here, sweetie, shh, I’m not angry, I’m not disappointed. I can hear them when you tell yourself that you’re worthless, or toxic, or that we all hate you.”

 He lifts Roman’s chin gently.

 “They’re lies, sweetie, that’s why I can hear them. You’re not worthless, you’re not toxic.”

 Roman whimpers.

 “You’re not broken,” he continues softly, holding him still, “you’re not hard to love, we don’t hate you.”

 He cups Roman’s face and pulls him in to rest their foreheads together.

 “And I care about you, sweetie, so, so much.”

 Roman’s breath shudders warmly on his cheeks.

 “Shh, shh, oh, come here, sweetie—there you go, you can cry, honey, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh...”

 The weight of the prince’s tears drying on his collar makes it hard to swallow. He tugs the blankets closer around them and lets Roman cling onto him as he cries.

 “I know you don’t believe me,” he whispers as familiar lies start to drift across, “but it’s true, sweetie. It’s true, it’s true, I promise. I’m here to take care of you.”

 “I’m—I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor—sorry—“

 “Shh-shh-shh, don’t apologize to me, sweetie, you don’t have to apologize, I’m right here, I’m not angry, nothing’s so bad.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 Janus hushes him gently with a kiss to his cheek. “I know you are...even though you don’t have to be, not like this.”

 His chest aches when Roman won’t stop burbling apologies.

 “Roman.” He takes the prince’s face firmly in his hands. “Roman, look at me.”

 Roman’s glassy eyes fixate on Janus’s face.

 “I forgive you, my prince,” he says, “I forgive you.”

 Roman’s mouth stills.

 “If that is what you need to hear,” he continues, softening his grip, “I forgive you, my prince.”

 “You...you do?”

 “I don’t want you to think that you need my forgiveness for me to love you,” Janus murmurs, “but yes, sweetie. I forgive you.”

 Roman collapses.

 Janus catches him. Of course, he catches him. He curls around his prince and murmurs sweet nothings, reassurances, anything he needs right now.

 It’s messy, it’s frantic, it’s desperate, it’s human.

 He can care for Roman while Roman lets himself be human. So he holds the poor thing while he cries himself out.

 He doesn’t cry himself to sleep again, thankfully, just enough to slump against Janus’s chest and huff.

 “Sorry.”

 “No need to apologize, that was long overdue.” He runs his knuckles up Roman’s back. “Can we get you something to drink?”

 Roman stiffens. “Does that mean going downstairs?”

 “No, sweetie. Come on...”

 He gets Roman seated on the edge of the bed with a glass of water in his hands. Roman drinks, blinking as Janus passes him a warm cloth, then a cool cloth, to clean his face.

 “What do they want me to do,” he asks after he’s finished the glass and the cloths are hanging over the laundry basket, “now?”

 Janus winces. Is he surprised? No.

 “Shh, sweetie, I’m not angry,” he soothes when Roman tenses, “I’m concerned. You’re still—you still need to take care of yourself first before you worry about everyone else.”

  But everyone else is worthy of the worrying, not me.

 Janus hisses gently. Roman just sighs.

 “It’s what you’ve told me,” he mumbles, “I don’t—I can’t just stop it.”

 “I’m not expecting you to be able to just stop it, sweetie, it’s going to take time, but part of it is going to be recognizing what’s not true.”

 “I know.”

 Janus opens his mouth to say something else when Roman gasps, his hand flying to his chest.

 “Sweetie? Sweetie, what is it?”

 “I’m—I’m being summoned.” Roman clutches his shirt, staring up at Janus. “Thomas—Thomas—“

 “I’ll go.” Janus gives Roman’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just wait here for me, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”

 He can still feel the warmth of Roman’s shoulder tingling under his palm as he appears in the living room.

 “I’m sure you have a wonderful reason for trying to summon Roman,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at a Thomas.

 Thomas looks up from his computer. “We were still filming.”

 Janus stiffens. “You’re not thinking of trying to continue—“

 “What? No, no, I’m saying that while Roman was talking the camera was still rolling.” Thomas points to the screen. “Which means we have it. All of it.”

 Ah, now he sees where Thomas is going.

 “You want them to watch.”

 “They should, shouldn’t they?”

 Yes, a bitter part of Janus growls, they should see how badly they’ve made Thomas’s Ego crumble.

 “What do you think?”

 Thomas rolls his shoulders back. “I think up until Roman said...all of that, I didn’t think the others were wrong either.”

 He glances up at Janus.

 “Did you?”

 Janus huffs. “I don’t think we ever give Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he is.”

 With that, the whole sorry tale spills out of him. He doesn’t reveal the exact nature of the lies, just the broad swaths of them and how many there are. To Thomas’s credit, he deals with it better than Janus expected. That is, he doesn’t burst into tears.

 Thomas takes a deep breath.

 “...yeah, we’re watching this now.”

 “Right now?”

 “Answer me this,” Thomas says, looking up at him again, “where is Roman? Right now?”

 “...on his bed.” At Thomas’s pointed stare, he relents. “He’s not alright, Thomas, he hasn’t been for a very long time.”

 “Then yeah. Right now.”

 “Then I’m going to ask Roman if he wants to be here.”

 Thomas nods. “Can you—can you tell him I’m sorry?”

 “You can do that yourself when he’s ready to hear it.”

 Understandably, Roman does not want to be there. Janus wraps him tightly in the softest blankets he has, tucked up with a pillow and a glass of water nearby if he wants it, along with the reassurance that if Roman wants him back here, at any point, to call. He’ll listen.

 “Thank you.”

 Janus leaves him with one last squeeze, appearing in the living room with the others. Thomas is back to setting up the computer so they can all see the screen.

 “Thomas?” Logan adjusts his tie. “I was unaware we had something scheduled for today.”

 “We didn’t. Spur of the moment.”

 Remus shoots Janus a look. Janus nods. Remus shifts a little closer to him and his hand grips his Morningstar.

 “Is this about the video from yesterday?” Virgil looks around warily. “Or is it something else?”

 “It is about yesterday.”

 “Shouldn’t we...wait for Roman?”  Patton rubs the back of his neck. “He kinda—well, if we’re talking about yesterday—“

 “Roman’s not coming.” Thomas keeps fiddling with the computer.

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “Are we deciding how to film the video without Roman?”

 “No.” Thomas glances at Janus. Janus nods. Thomas looks back at the others. “Roman’s not coming because he doesn’t want to.”

 “What the fuck?”

 “Language, kiddo,” Patton mumbles halfheartedly.

 “Wait, so—“ Virgil doesn’t look so much as chided— “you’re just gonna let Princey throw his temper tantrum and not come work?”

 “How much attention were you guys paying to what happened after you sunk out yesterday?”

 “…not much, why?”

 In response, Thomas just pushes ‘play.’

 Their voices fill the room, telling Roman what he’s done wrong, why he’s holding all of them back, why he’s the source of all their problems. Lies, lies, and more lies. They get to the part where the other three sink out and Remus tightens his grip on the handle.

  “…you want me to apologize?”

 Virgil opens his mouth, presumably to make some quip, only to cut himself off with a strangled noise once Roman’s apologies begin.

 Janus watches with a sick sense of satisfaction as Patton’s hands fly to his mouth, eyes wide at the hopeless tone coming out of the computer. Next to him, Virgil goes rigid, borderline catatonic. He looks as if one little push would send him toppling over.

 He can’t see Logan’s face until Thomas stops the playback. It’s only when Logan takes his glasses off to clean them that he can see the tears on his cheeks.

 Thomas looks up at Janus.

 “Can you still hear them?”

 “The lies?” Thomas nods. “Yes.”

 There’s a moment of silence.

 “Roman is the Ego,” Logan whispers, mostly to himself, “Roman is the Ego. Of course…of course, I understand—I understand now.”

 “What does that mean?”

 Logan takes a deep breath and looks up at Patton. “It means that Roman is Thomas’s sense of self-worth, more or less, and that he—he takes the brunt of Thomas’s reactions to…any sort of feedback, more than any of us. Good or bad.”

 Virgil stifles a curse. “And we’ve taught him to hate himself.”

 “Quite.”

 “We—“ Patton takes a breath— “we need to apologize.”

 “We all do.” Thomas closes the computer and sets it aside. “I don’t…I don’t know how we do that, though.”

 “Breaking patterns of thinking is hard,” Logan says, “and…especially hard when you have been taught not to ask for help.”

 “But there has to be something!”

 “Touch-starved,” Virgil breaks in, staring at a spot on the carpet, “Roman’s touch-starved.”

 Janus raises an eyebrow.

 “…when I was still having trouble,” Virgil says after a moment of them all looking at him, “Roman—Roman would just come and ask me if I wanted to—to—“

 He hunches his shoulders.

 “Sometimes it’d be a hug. Sometimes he’d sit next to me and—and lean on me. Sometimes he’d just—you know, with the forehead thing—“

 “Bonk.”

 They all turn to Logan, who has…a surprising flush to his cheeks.

 “Roman said that he—he wanted to be able to express affection for me and not disturb my work,” he manages, “so we…came up with a solution.”

 Patton blinks. “Is that why Roman will just walk up to you and bonk his forehead against yours?”

 “Yes.”

 “Huh.”

 “That’s adorable,” Thomas says quietly, “that’s—wait, hang on, that’s really adorable.”

 “It was Roman’s idea.” Logan swallows. “Most of his ideas are good.”

 “Yeah,” Thomas says, “maybe we should try telling him that next time.”

 Janus looks around. The others look to be in various states of remorse and determination. With the exception of Remus, who still looks like he wants to bash a few of their skulls in.

 “…can we go hug Roman now?”

 “I wanna do that.”

 “If he’s—“ Logan glances between Thomas and Janus— “do you know if he would be amenable to that? If he—would like that?”

 “We can ask,” Janus says quietly, “but I don’t know.”

 “And if he says no,” Remus growls, “you get out.”

 “We understand, Remus,” Logan promises. He looks at Thomas. “Thank you, Thomas.”

 Thomas shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. Not yet. We all have stuff to fix.”

 Janus adjusts his cape. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

 They don’t sink right to Roman’s room. Instead, Janus knocks quietly on the door and waits for the soft ‘yes?’ from the other side to open it.

 “Roman,” he calls softly, “hey, sweetie, why’re you over there?”

 Because Roman, the poor thing, is at his desk, trying to work.

 “I—um—“

 “I’m not angry, sweetie,” he murmurs, arms going around the prince to pull him up out of the desk chair, “just concerned.”

 “I figured that if I got to work they’d be less mad that I wasn’t there,” Roman mumbles, even as he lets Janus pull him back to the bed, “so I…”

 “Oh, sweetie, no one’s angry at you.”

 Roman looks up at him with such a heartbreaking look of disbelief that he lets out a soft noise, cupping his face.

 “Would you believe me if I said they want to apologize and make it up to you?”

 “No.”

 He squints. “Have you believed anything I’ve told you since you woke up?”

 “No.”

 The lack of hesitation makes his eyes widen. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against Roman’s as he pulls off his gloves, reaching up to cup the prince’s head.

 “I meant every word,” he murmurs, doing his best to wipe away the bits of salt in the corners of his eyes, “every single word.”

 He pauses, then leans closer.

 “They’re sorry, Roman,” he whispers, “they’re so sorry and they want to know how to make it better.”

  They don’t want you. They hate you. They’ve never cared about you. They don’t even want to touch you.

 Janus hisses softly as he pulls Roman in for a hug. The poor thing still reacts like it’s the first time someone’s touched him in years.

 “They want to see you, sweetie,” he whispers, “and I believe their exact words were ‘can we go hug Roman now?’”

 “W-what?”

 In response, Janus pulls away a little and nods to the door. Roman’s eyes widen.

 “Can we let them in, sweetie?”

 “They’re here?”

 “Right outside.”

 “They want—they want to—“

 Roman’s desperate gaze flies to the door. He raises a shaking hand and lets it open.

 Patton’s through the door before it’s even all the way open. Roman lets out a wounded noise as Patton barrels into them, his arms wrapped around Roman before Janus can blink.

 “Pat—Patton—Pa—wha—?”

 “I’m sorry, Roman, I’m so sorry, kiddo—“

 Virgil follows not too long after, pulling Roman’s legs into his lap and reaching out to take Roman’s outstretched hand.

 “Hey, Princey,” he says, the growl from not five minutes ago softened to a low rumble, “missed you.”

 “Mis—miss—missed me?”

 “Yeah, Roman, missed you. Didn’t feel the same without you there.”

 Then Logan. As Patton and Virgil move to get Roman into a more comfortable position, Logan sits behind him so that when Roman leans back, his head rests against Logan’s shoulder. Logan reaches up to tangle his fingers in Roman’s hair, smiling softly at the low noise from Roman’s throat.

 “Bonk?”

 Roman nods, still blinking in confusion but lets Logan press his forehead gently to his.

 “Thank you, little star,” he murmurs, smiling at the way Roman’s mouth falls open, “I didn’t forget, Roman, even if I haven’t been the best at showing it.”

 “We don’t hate you, Princey,” Virgil says, squeezing his hand, “and we—well, we owe you one hell of an apology.”

 “But we don’t have to talk about that now.” Patton adjusts his grip around Roman’s waist. “Not if you don’t want to.”

 Remus picks this moment to not walk through the door and climb onto the bed but to sink down through the ceiling and land on top of them.

 “Re!”

 “Hey, Ro-Bro.”

 “Re, get off, you—it’s too much.”

Remus rolls to the side, right into Janus’s lap, effectively making sure that none of them are leaving, not that they particularly wanted to.

 Janus watches as Roman slowly asks if they can stay like this for a while, smiling when the answer is a resounding ‘yes,’ the cuddle pile closing in around their prince. Roman’s head rests against the crook of Logan’s neck, one of his hands wrapped in Janus’s, the other in Virgil’s. His legs lie in Virgil’s lap, Patton cuddling him protectively as Logan strokes his head. Remus and Janus keep watch, sentries over the resting prince.

 For the first time, in a long time, as Roman drifts off to sleep, the only lie in his head is this won’t last forever.

 They’ve got time to prove him wrong.

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[gch1995]

What do you think on yoda’s training? I see a lot of people saying about how it’s “wise” and very good but to be honest he seems like an asshole who is shit at what he does 💀

I think the biggest problems with Yoda’s interpersonal/intrapersonal skills, training methods, and battle strategies are many of the same issues that Qui Gonn, Obi-Wan, Mace Windu, and many of the other Jedi he recruited developed. I think he has many of the same issues that eventually Anakin picked up himself under the Jedi, particularly as Darth Vader after going dark.

Yoda’s too arrogant, close-minded, cryptic, deceitful, dismissive, hypocritical, and manipulative. He’s way too willing to allow for and/or create any collateral damage in his desire to get his way from others for his desired “greater good.” For someone who tells Luke “Don’t try, just do,” he really didn’t listen to his own advice because the Jedi Order probably wouldn’t have crumbled if he had just listened to his better gut instincts by by acting on them when they kept screaming at him to do something to stop the corruption and misery that he and the Republic seemed to be creating for others by deliberately ignoring them to try to avoid conflict with the Republic Senate and obsessively try to avoid the threat of the dark side by trying to live in extreme avoidance and denial to try to be perfect out of fear of the unknown until it was too late.

I’m not saying it’s wrong to not try your best at all. When no one is getting hurt from the activities your trying to improve at or the people you’re trying to fit in with, then it’s a good thing. However, when you know that the people, governments, organizations, or activities are abusive, dangerous, harmful, isolating, risky, miserable, unfair, and/or untrue to both yourself and others around you, then you shouldn’t be trying to fit in with them at all. You should be calling them out on their shit and refusing to enable it or participate in it.

I get that a lot of the Jedi of the prequels had compromised agency under a corrupt Republic, too, who they’d been groomed and cut off to feel obligated to serve, so, it’s not entirely their fault. However, Yoda was the primary source of all the corruption within the Jedi Order’s system as its leader for around six to seven centuries, which means he had all the power of authority to change how the system operated from within. Instead, he chose not, and I find it hardest to sympathize with him for not doing anything to improve it over all those centuries as a result. In the OT and PT main narratives, he’s been alive for 800-900 something years and in charge of the Jedi Order long enough to make you think he should have learned from his bad choices, mistakes, and negative experiences by now. Sadly, he still doesn’t, and the fact that nearly everyone else who has trained under him at some point can seriously say that he is “kind” and “wise” with a narrative that wants us to believe this makes me snort to myself and roll my eyes every time. The average three year old child has more wisdom than Yoda acquired in an entire lifetime of 900 years. Yeah, I know his species ages at a slower pace than the average human being, which means that Yoda’s species technically doesn’t even hit middle-aged until they’re 450 years old, but Grogu is still more wise than him as a toddler.

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Skinny Love (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: hello again. I'm in love with Kakashi this mans makes me heart go wild I swear. Hope you like seeing him on ur dash lol. Shy reader who is too afraid to confess how she feels to Kakashi. This is only part one and is essentially just fluff. The second part will be all angst and sadness so beware.

Ps. It took me so long to get this one done. I was struggling to find the right words.

Word count: 4000

"Come on, sensei. You like him," Sakura laughed, poking her superior in the arm. The group of women stood outside the training grounds after a day of hanging out and working on their jutsu. On occasion Y/N enjoyed taking the girls out and spending time with them. It was a relief to be away from all that testosterone. If only for a short time.

She just shook her head, smothering down the embarrassment she felt creeping up her neck. Her stomach churned whenever she recognized her feelings for the man. It was just so intense. "I would never feel that way about a coworker, you know that, Sakura."

"But he's not just a coworker to you, is he? He's also your close friend," Ino hummed.

"Perhaps, but haven't I taught you that it's bad to let emotions get in the way of work?"

The blond rolled her eyes, turning to fully face one of her sensei, who she would argue was deeply in denial. "Seriously why does it even matter? Kurenai-sensei and Asuma-sensei literally had a baby together. You should definitely tell Kakashi you like him."

Y/N tossed her head back against the wall, sighing. "Girls, I really don't like him. He's just my friend. He's nice to me and I appreciate that, but that doesn't mean I want to date him or anything." Her voice shook and clearly she had been caught.

She was always so bad at lying.

"Whatever you say, Y/N."

"It's just something I'd rather not dwell on, Sakura. I'm sorry for being so private about it, but it's a sensitive subject for me," the woman confessed, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly.

"It's okay! You don't have to apologize. We get it! Feelings can definitely be complicated."

"I-I," she started, about to explain herself, but instead she rethought what she was about to say. There was no reason to actually reveal how she felt about the man. These times were tough, and there wasn't any room for making things even more messy with relationship drama. Y/N was more than happy just pretending they were friends and nothing more. As long as she had him just to talk to, she would be fine. As long as he always made it back alive, there was no reason to complain.

"You're right. Feelings are too complicated," she muttered, feeling herself practically deflate as she did so. Y/N was beginning to think she was just the one making everything complicated when it didn't have to be. Skipping around and lying about her feelings. Kakashi wouldn't ditch her if she just said something, she was sure of it.

Just as Sakura was about to reply, the voice of the man in question chimed in from down the path, "Y/N, we were looking for you."

"Yes, the third wheel to our tricycle of youth!"

Y/N felt a smile grow on her lips at the sounds of those voices, especially Gai's exclamation of youth. He was awfully weird, she thought, but that was what kept him so interesting. She turned to face the men walking in her direction. "Kakashi, Gai! What's up? The girls and I were just finishing our training."

"We're going out for drinks and thought you might like to join."

"Sounds great. It's been a long time since the three of us went out. For some reason we never have off at the same time anymore."

"Yeah, it's a shame. Missions have taken over our lives lately," Kakashi said tiredly. It was true. They really never had a second to rest. It was beginning to take its toll. Those were the consequences of war though. "How have you been?"

"Good, I, um..." she began, her eyes trailing up to Kakashi's. He watched back intently, patiently, and she felt something in her chest flutter up. He was always so handsome, she wondered how she could go so long without seeing his face. She just wanted to leap forward and give him a hug, wrap herself up in his warm arms for just a little while. That wasn't an option though, so she settled on some simple words. "I've missed you."

His eyes softened barely enough to be noticeable but she saw. Her heart continued to flutter up in her chest and she sighed, clutching her hands tighter behind her back. No doubt the girls standing just behind her were hyper-analyzing all their interactions, especially after revealing they held an interest in the pair's relationship.

He didn't have the chance to reply though, as Gai was the one to chime in. "Why thank you. I have to say, I've missed you as well, my kunoichi friend."

"Thanks, Gai." Even if the statement wasn't exactly pointed toward him, she was happy she had been missed.

"No problem! Now I hope you young ladies don't mind if we take L/N off your hands."

"No no. It's not a problem, Gai-sensei. I'm sure our moms want us home for dinner anyway. It's getting late after all."

"Yeah, we'll see you later, Y/N-sensei." The pink haired girl waved ss they started to make their way in the opposite direction toward town. Ino paused for a moment though.

"Don't forget what we talked about. You really shouldn't be so shy; it's gonna be okay," she said softly. Y/N sighed, nodding her head as if to say fine. In reality, she wouldn't do anything different. She wasn't feeling very open to changing herself or facing any of her fears. "See you around."

It was kinda sad that Y/N found comfort and support in a bunch of 15 year olds. She was an adult, couldn't she talk to other adults about her problems. These girls were just so accepting and she didn't feel awkward talking about immature things like crushes. Any other adult would just be too wrapped up in their own lives to care too much anyway.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing, Kakashi. We were just talking about random stuff. You know how curious they can be."

"You go out there and fight rogue shinobi every week. How could you be shy?" The green beast asked.

"It's really nothing. They're always assuming things about me. I'm reserved, but I wouldn't say I'm shy, per se…" She stopped to think for a quick second, tapping her foot on the ground. "Actually, I would say I'm just more conscious of the things I say and do than most other people. Not a bad thing at all."

Kakashi nodded. "It's good to keep a level head."

"Exactly. I'm Level headed. Thanks, Kakashi."

"Now let's head off to the bar! Sake for everyone!" Gai cheered, throwing his fist up in the air. She nodded, walking up beside the pair as they started off toward the restaurant of their choice, which she hoped was her favorite one with the tastiest fruit juice drinks. She was willing to put out good money to have one good, tispy night of drinks and snacking. It had already been weeks since she had a night off, one time wouldn't break the bank.

She stood to the right of them, just beside Kakashi. Every now and then she found herself drifting just a bit too close to him, her natural gait leaning toward the left. At one point, she found her hand skim dangerously close to his and she snatched it away to keep herself in check. Holding his hand perhaps was a dream of hers but she wasn't going to actually try anything.

It wasn't that she was afraid of Kakashi. Quite the opposite actually. She cared for him so deeply it sometimes made her stomach churn when she thought about it. He was her friend for ages, ever since she could really remember. He was one of the only people she could sit with and feel completely enveloped in a warm comfort, free of judgement and deceit. Gai as well, but Kakashi was different.

Maybe he could be a bit of pervert, and even sarcastic at times, but he was never rude. He had changed over the years from being a know-it-all, little jerk to someone everyone liked and admired, a kind and brave soul.

Unfortunately, it took bouts of death and loss to come about this change, but she wasn't going to ignore it. He was the best man she knew, and it only seemed natural she fell in love with him. He would probably never feel the same way. He had better things to worry about and other women to long for. He didn't have his entire life to wait around for a shy woman like herself. That was okay.

As long as he was alive and well, she would be happy.

Maybe one day she would gather the courage to grab his hand, to run her thumb over his knuckles and feel the callouses against her skin. Maybe one day she would have the courage to confess how she felt. Not now, but one day when she was comfortable.

"You okay?" He asked, pulling her out of her deepening thoughts. "You're walking really slow and uh, your hand…" The man motioned to where she was clutching her wrist against her chest.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just uh, my wrist is sore from training." She worked her hand in a circle, pretending to stretch it out. He rolled his visible eye, knowingly.

"Sure. Always skipping around the real issues."

"I'm really okay. I was just thinking hard about something."

"Anything to do with what you, Sakura, and Ino were talking about?" he suggested, raising a brow.

She groaned. He always knew what she was thinking. It was definitely one of his best and worst qualities depending on the situation. In this case, she felt awkward as she was so lost in thought about him. She felt like a fool. "Maybe it was. But that was girl time and now it's drinking time. Different topics of discussion."

"Well, mind telling me what's got you so caught up? It's gotta be important."

"It's personal."

"Ah, I see. Well, that's fine. When you want to talk about it, I'm always around."

There was silence for a moment, her thoughts running wild in her head. He was so kind, it wouldn't be bad to tell him how she felt. He would let her down easy, surely. And Gai would be there to cushion her embarrassment, no doubt. He would make things less awkward somehow. She was sure of it.

It was crazy. No way she would say anything. Definitely not.

"I'm interested in someone," Y/N found herself blurting out before she could stop herself. She just felt so much pressure building up in her chest and the only way she could relieve that feeling was to tell him something, anything about the predicament she was in. She wouldn't tell him exactly how she felt and about who, but she could vent.

Damn, all this and she didn't even have her first drink. That man really did something to her.

The men stopped in their path, their heads turning their attention solely to her. She felt her neck and cheeks begin to heat up and her palms start to sweat. Why would she say that? Dammit. She really was a fool.

"Really? Who?" Gai asked. "He'd be a fool to reject you, of course, beautiful flower of the leaf! You do not have to worry!"

"Gai...it's really not that simple. He is, um, out of my league, I guess you could say," she muttered nervously, rubbing her palms together to ease her anxiety. "He's just well, I don't know, the perfect guy ever."

She could feel Kakashi tense at her side, and her eyes scanned over him. He didn't look out of the ordinary but his energy had definitely changed. Strange.

"No one is out of your league, don't you dare say something like that! If he doesn't let you down easy, I will use my fists of justice to defend you! Tell me who this mystery man is."

"This is what Ino meant when she said you were being shy. You aren't going to tell him, are you?" Kakashi asked, and she noticed the bit of annoyance in his tone. She wondered if he was just upset she was talking about such silly things when they were ready to start drinking. She felt embarrassed. They were adults. Adults don't talk about this kind of thing. He doesn't want to hear about the guys she's interested in, or how she feels about them. Maybe Gai would be interested in it, but not a cool guy like Kakashi.

"Of course not. Like I said, he would just reject me anyway, there's no point," she told them. "And Gai, I can't just tell you who it is. You know you're a loud mouth; you'd go around telling everyone." She really didn't believe Gai would do that to her. He was far too conscious of others feelings for the most part. She just couldn't risk Kakashi knowing. She would keep it a secret from him.

"Oh come on! Just tell us! I'll help you out, be your wingman!"

"Maybe I'll tell you another time. When I'm more confident in myself."

"Well, what is it that has finally caught out dear friends heart in a web of love? Tell us!" Oh man. He really was nosy sometimes. He meant well, but occasionally he just didn't know when to stop. Kakashi kept his mouth shut because he understood she was getting uncomfortable, that or he was growing annoyed as she suspected.

Regardless, it was nice to get some of this off her chest, even if it was risky business.

"I don't really know. He's smart and considerate, and very brave. He's handsome as well, that's a plus," she smiled, listing off the things she liked about the man standing right in front of her. It felt so exhilarating, talking about her feeling so openly. It was terrifying and relieving at the same time. Y/N exhaled as she thought about him again, "He just makes me feel happy when I'm in my worst moments, that's all. I mean, what else could I ask for?"

"I see! He sounds like a good guy. Can't wait to meet him," he laughed until his eyes widened and he leaned in a bit closer to her face. He pointed his finger at his chest and questioned, "Unless of course, I already know him. It's not me, is it?

She found herself smiling just a little, her lips curving up at the absurdity of it all. "No definitely not. You don't have to worry about that."

"I'm wounded, but I understand. My youthfulness is just too strong for you."

As she thought of something to say, she began to question just why Kakashi hadn't said anything really at all. It was strange of him, letting the other man do all the talking when normally he asked her questions and at least tried to engage. Maybe he was feeling tired or bored with the conversation. She had to change the subject.

"So uh, let's get a move on before all the good booths are taken, yeah?"

"Actually, I'm getting tired. I think I'll just head home for the night, get ready for my mission in two days," the white haired jounin sighed. They both looked over to him, surprised, but Y/N knew why he needed to go. She had upset him somehow. So much for a fun night between the three of them.

"Kakashi, come on! Don't bail on us now!"

She took a step back and her eyes trailed up to his, which were narrowed, not angrily just as if he had been hurt or confused she couldn't tell which. "Oh, are you sure?" Her heart was sinking in her chest seeing him so conflicted.

"Yeah. Got a headache, too."

"Ah, okay. Well, I'll see you around sometime?"

"Yeah."

"Goodbye, rival. Hopefully you are feeling better tomorrow and we can have a real night of drinking indeed!"

And with that, he left to his apartment, leaving the other two behind. She felt her stomach begin to turn uncomfortably, sick from the thought of Kakashi just leaving them like that. He seemed so angry, she couldn't help but think it was all her fault. It wasn't in his nature to act that way.

They had already spent so much time apart already that it was tugging at her heart strings. She felt like they rarely saw each other anymore. For him to be angry at her and leave, that meant they would just see each other even less than before. It seemed like a nightmare come true. She really did miss him, like she had said. She missed the fun they would have together and the conversations they shared. She just missed him and there he went, gone off again without so much as a real goodbye.

The woman clutched at her stomach, feeling the tossing and turning overtake her sense with nausea.

Suddenly, before she could contain herself, tears began dripping down her cheeks, and she sucked in her breath. Hot tears warmed her cheeks, and frantically she wiped them away from her cheeks. Her arms wound around her waist and she hugged herself tightly inward, almost as if she would turn into a ball if she could.

"Y/N, what's wrong?! What happened?"

"It's Kakashi," she whispered, trying to keep herself from crying anymore but it only got worse.

"Kakashi? Because he left? It's okay, we can go drinking another night or-or you and I can just go alone. No problems," he tried to say but it wasn't going to work. She didn't want to go to dinner with Gai and she didn't want to wait until tomorrow, or whatever the next time they would all be together. She was being stupid and selfish, acting like a spoiled little baby with all this crying. She just couldn't stop herself.

"It's not that. There's something I haven't told anyone. I don't know what to do."

"It's gonna be fine whatever it is. Just calm down."

"No, I can't. It's so bad, Gai. I'm in love with him, it's him, and now he's mad at me and I don't know what I did wrong," she confessed, feeling all the words slipping out so easily. How is it that such strong emotions could just cause her to think so irrationally and just let something like this happen? A bout of confessing every feeling she had to her friend who may or may not go and relay all this information to Kakashi. It was stupid. She was just being stupid and reckless.

He nodded carefully, moving to take ahold of her shoulders to steady her. "It's gonna be okay. He's not mad at you, I promise. I know Kakashi and I'm sure he really was just feeling sick."

"Gai, I just...I don't want him to ever leave me, even over something stupid like this."

"Trust me, you don't have to worry about Kakashi leaving you. He would never do something like that. You are one of his closest friends. There's almost nothing you could do to make him do that, especially if you always have good intent at heart. Trust me, you really don't ever need to worry," Gai explained trying his best to reason with her. "You two do everything together. He never stops talking about you! He would never let you go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am one hundred percent sure!"

"I-I need to go find him. I need to make sure he's not upset with me," she said as she pushed herself away from him. He waved to her as she started in the direction of Kakashi's apartment.

"Goodluck on your mission, Y/N, not that you'll need it."

______

Kakashi was just about to enter his apartment when she dashed up the stairs and turned the corner, going so fast she nearly slid into the wall. His eyes widened when he saw her, and he froze in his spot, not turning the key to the door just yet. Her face was flush and chest heaved. He could tell she rushed on her way.

"Y/N, did you run all the way here?"

She stood, catching her breath after just having run all the way across town to find him. Her heart raced as she looked up at him, and she clutched at the railing of the stairs for support. "I wanted to say sorry for whatever I said to make you angry with me. I didn't know I was being insensitive."

"I told you I was sick," he replied, but she knew better. And he knew she did. He wasn't dumb. They knew each other better than that and there was no pretending.

"I could tell that was a lie. I know you were angry and I felt terrible."

"Were you just crying?"

She exclaimed back, holding a hand over her heart to maybe try and ease the racing heartbeat, "Maybe. What about it?! I was hurt that I'd offended my friend, isn't that tear-worthy?" She took a few more deep breaths through her mouth, letting the air fill her up and calm her down. "Why were you so upset?"

"It's not important."

"No, no. It's important to me!"

The man paused, thinking over his next words carefully. He very well knew the real reason he ran away from their conversation like a coward. He actually thought it was obvious. It wouldn't hurt for her to know. He sighed, "If you really want to know. It's because I was tired of hearing about your love life. It's not exactly an entertaining subject."

She knew it but admittedly she would be lying if she said she didn't feel her heart break a little at those words. He didn't care about her feelings enough to just sit there and listen to her talk for a couple minutes? Was she that annoying? So many thoughts ran through her head, and each one made her sad. "I just didn't want to go a whole night with Gai talking about it," he added. "It's nothing to do with you."

"I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's fine," he brushed off her apology. "I'm the one who asked about it in the first place."

"Why- why wouldn't you want to hear me talk about other men? Why would that be a sore subject for you?" She asked, her curiosity spiking up through the roof. It was strange, the whole situation. He had never backed down from a personal chat before, only this time.

He felt like a deer caught in the headlights suddenly. How was he supposed to reply to that without blowing his cover. "I just don't like the whole romance thing."

But they both knew that was a lie. He read romance for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But if he wanted to keep his secrets, she would let him. There was no need to pry. She just hoped he would trust her enough in the future to explain what he meant. Secretly, she wished that it was because he was jealous. That he didn't want to hear about another man because he wanted to be that guy, her lover. It was a wild thought, a hopeless theory meant to be thrown out, but she could fantasize.

"Kakashi, we're still good? As friends and all? You'll go out with me and Gai another time then?"

He nodded, his lips quirking up into just a tiny smile. It was characteristic for her mind to go straight to the worst case scenario. He replied, "Of course. Like I said, it's not that bad. Don't worry about it."

"Okay. I'm glad. I really thought I messed up this time."

"I don't think there's anything you could do to make me hate you," he sighed, leaning his shoulder against his door frame. "The day I let you go is the day I die, Y/N."

She smiled, closing her eyes and finally taking a relaxed breath. It was done. He wasn't angry at all. He still cared for her and everything else she could hope for. As long as they could remain friends, it was all gonna be okay. She laughed, "That's what Gai said. Should have listened to him, huh?"

The both nodded and suddenly they were enveloped in a peaceful silence for a while. She stared down at her feet and he watched her quietly, admiring the way she could be so miserably shy yet so adorable at the same time.

"Do you wanna go catch dinner? Or uh, just drinks like we originally planned, if you want," he asked, running his hand through his hair. Her eyes brightened at the question, and he'd be stupid not to notice the new shine in them.

"Do you want to go find Gai first?"

"Actually, how about it just be you and me this time? We'll catch Gai tomorrow morning for breakfast instead."

"Two meals in two days...I'm not made of money."

"It's on me. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, jeez. So nice of you, Kakashi. Thank you! Where are we going?" she asked happily, walking up to him and rolling back in the balls of her feet.

"Wherever you want to go."

"I feel like I'm getting the special treatment. I'm so excited," she cheered, pulling him in the direction of the stairs by the edge of his sleeve.

He just smiled. It was all he could do. He had the most beautiful woman in the entire world in front of him ready to go on a not-exactly date. They were only friends, and she reaffirmed that today when she mentioned she was interested in someone else.

But for now he could pretend they were a thing. That they were dating and that she loved him and he could openly love her back. He would take her out to dinner and kick at her ankles under the table just to annoy her. And he would take a sip of her drink and pretend it was too sweet for him and watch as she struggled to drink a sip of his liquor.

And after he walks her home that night, he would hug her tight to his chest and he would think about kissing her, to pull down his mask for just a split second and press his lips to hers, but he would refrain. It just wasn't the right time. Maybe there would never be a right time either, and that was okay.

As long as they could have nights like these, as long as he would feel her in his arms, he was more than happy. He was in love.

Part Two is up.

[loaffofbred]

SPOILERS FOR WTIT :

Foreshadowing of Logan's Outburst or Snap and Indications of Future Problems

After rewatching some of the Sanders Sides past episodes, it seems very clear that Logan's outburst is fairly unsurprising. But, there may be some other foreshadowing thats taking place other than his outburst, and maybe his future dilemma's maybe indicated as well.

One example i saw is his question in the musical number of the puppet episode, where Patton explains his repression of emotion, and Logan seemingly asking if it worked in some way. And almost seemingly shocked by Patton's answer.

It almost seems like he was trying to find the answer to his own problem. He's repeated before that he has NO feelings or emotions, and that he has no care of sentiments. He's in denial of his emotions and Patton's situation seem to fascinate him because he seems to have the same problem. Almost like the more he ignores his emotions, the more he believes they disappear altogether, like what Patton said. The answer seemed to shocked him either because of Patton learning and applying the lesson he learned, or because he had a similar problem and shocked by an unexpected answer. This feels like a foreshadow to Logan's problem, and this is not the only example of that. All instances of Logan denying his emotions are just further evidence that thats his problem. His acceptance of his emotions. This is me not doing too much research here, so bear with me if theres a way to debunk it.

Of course this isnt a surprise to some, but this is a foreshadow to his outburst. The further you fill this jar of emotions, the closer it is to bursting into a field of emotions and outbursts. I think maybe the future episode might tackle that problem. Denial is a form of deception, you cant have deception WITHOUT denial in some capacity. You can tell that Janus in some way knows Logan's dilemma, he is deceit after all, he knows that Logan has a tendency to deny his own emotions. Even the other sides seem to know this as well. Logan always clarifies he has no emotions and this further feeds deceit.

Janus and Remus' push comes to shove

This can also explain why Janus and Remus push Logan to a different level than all the other sides. An example of this is the newest asides video(WTIT) and both SvS and SvS redux. Why are there methods of pushing Logan away different from the other sides? Well, lets first see how the other sides do this. First, the other sides never do this intentionally or in a malicious way. They explain Logan why his point of view doesnt particularly matter, and that their argument is more feasible. They dont FORCE Logan aside, they just dont put the effort to listen and comprehend his input. Example of this is the end card of WTIT, Patton choosing to ignore Logan's input on SvS Redux, and Thomas, Patton, and Roman almost ignoring and nonchalantly putting aside his wants in the Moving On episode. They dont force Logan away, they just dont give value to his input enough for him to feel worthy.

Remus and Janus' way is through FORCE. Theyre upfront and malicious with their tactics. Remus blatantly targeting Logan specifically on the introductory episode of him. Janus disguising himself, two times, as Logan to remove him from the equation. They both force Logan down, to try and bring themselves up. I dont particularly know why theyre pushing Logan to his limits. Either an entry for the Orange side?

But this is whats weird. Janus is responsible to who or which side can be seen. Hes responsible on who is hidden away from Thomas, and who isnt. Thats why in Remus' song mentions this;

Recently a snake offered me a morsel from the tree of knowledge

He said "you're wanting to be more honest

And be direct dealing with your issues

No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you"

(a certain thing i suddenly realize is that the 'tree of knowledge' is referenced in WTIT. The last end shot where it pans to Logan and the roots of the tree to Janus. Just a small thing i realized :) )

So why does the orange side need 'influence'? Yes, Thomas has a say on what he wants to see and what he doesnt, but what about Remus? In a way its far more fitting for him to just barge in rather than have permission to show up. But if we were to assume Orange as rage or a form of it, why does he NEED influence (assuming he does) to truly be seen? A question that im hoping will get answered in future episodes.

Janus' power and deniability

Janus has more power than we think. He can shut the sides up about a certain side in order for Thomas to be unaware. So maybe, in the end card, Janus is hinting for the Orange Side to finally being seen because of his help. His power stems from something but what?

Have you noticed something in common with all of the dark sides introductory episodes? They all speak about DENIAL. Denial of Thomas' capacity to deceit and the denial of imagination having an 'evil form' of it. His denial is what keeps the dark sides at bay, and what keeps him from knowing about the other sides. I think thats the main reason why Janus has the power to show Thomas the other sides, because denial is a form of deceit, and Janus has power over that.

And who else has a BIG problem with deniability? Logan. Logan denies that his emotions even exist in the first place. One example of denial being a big part is this line that really stuck with me,

No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you

Janus is speaking to Remus yes, but this also resonates with Logan and Thomas. 'Deceiving yourself' is lying to yourself, denying the existence of bad within you. Remus KNOWS that Logan is lying to himself, because it seems like Remus had the same experience with how Janus told this to him specifically. He knows Logan's problems and the whole "Now youre speakin' my language" makes even more sense. He saw Logans truth. His ugliness within him.

Another line also stuck with me is this;

Why deny yourself knowledge

Say knowledge of yourself?

You don't need to feel ashamed with your dear old Duke

You need not feign decency

This also seems so targeted to Logan. He feigns that he has no emotions therefore has no flawed and hurtful emotions that can target Thomas. He feigns decency. Also! 'Why deny yourself knowledge, say knowledge of yourself?' seems to resonate with Logan as well. Im not saying these lyrics are TARGETED SPECIFICALLY towards Logan, but resonate instead.

Logan's deniability of emotions

Think about it, denial is the reason why dark sides are hidden. And Logan denies his emotions. Connect the dots and its understandable why some people believe Logan to be either hiding something about the Orange side, or him being the Orange side in general.

Few mentions

Another targeted insult (while not surprising coming from Remus) also acknowledges Logan's problem,

He knows his problems, and this is where Logan denies this entirely

Which seems like a lie to me, but nonetheless

Remus pushes the take that he has an effect on Logan

Logan also denying this entirely

Even though, that is the exact OPPOSITE of what happened to him with Remus on the latest sanders asides.

TLDR; Logans denial of his emotions is a big problem that may be addressed in future episodes. Denial is a big part of the dark sides anonymity and Thomas' deniability is the very reason for hidden dark sides.

Both Remus and Janus push Logan for either an entry way for Orange, but still skeptical because of Janus having the power to make dark sides be seen based on his control of deniability, so why put the effort?

Logan's connection to denial maybe a more reason why he seems to be the only side that explicitly shows anger to the point of physical pain towards others or other outbursts. Deniability and the dark sides having a connection seems to further push the theory of Logan showing his true colors or self. Of course that theory has many flaws in of itself, i think Logan's denial has a big part as to why he showed orange eyes

Remus affects Logan in quite different ways compared to Virgil and Patton

anyways, this has been long enough, i hope this was understandable, and as always

THIS IS ALL THEORIES,

do not take them as truth or fact, but rather speculation

anyway, peacee

[eliemo]

What Matters

Summary: It’s not that Virgil thought the dream would ever become a reality. It’s just that sometimes, it’s nice to see the flaws in his logic laid out plainly in front of him. 

Notes: past abuse mention, past violence mention, nightmares, sympathetic dark sides and light sides

Taglist:  @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222  @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @basilthefourth @snowtrashowl @thefingergunsgirl @trashtm @stubbornness-and-spite @kieraelieson @alias290 @darkch1ld @craz-ewaters @damy-02 @frogdog145 @gattonero17 @madamedraconis @stoicpanther @@love-to-read02 @that-spider-fan-over-there @thatoneloudowl @rich-flower-17 @demigodbookdragon @i-gobymanynames

Masterpost

Virgil stumbled into the hallway, shivering under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, breaths coming in panicked, shuddering gasps as tears blurred his vision. 

“It was an experiment, Virgil.” 

“It seems the others were onto something, after all.” 

Logan’s voice kept ringing in his ears (it wasn’t Logan’s voice, he knew that. He knew Logan would never say those things), cold and calculating, but smiling through the nightmare, relieved for things to finally return to how they were supposed to be. 

It was a dream. Just a stupid, stupid dream that his idiotic brain had decided to torture him with tonight. 

He’d never...had a dream like this before.

Virgil paused at the top of the stairs, hesitating with his arms wrapped around himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to decide what to do. 

He knew it was ok to get someone after a nightmare. The others had practically insisted after they had learned how frequently he had them. 

They all helped in their own way. Patton would chase away memories of the past, holding him close with promises that he was safe, that he would never be trapped again. 

Roman offered distractions from his fears, colorful stories and grand reassurances, the prince swearing to fight off anything that might threaten his safety. 

And Logan...Logan brought him back to reality. Logan calmed him down, grounded him, reminded him where and who he was. He pushed aside irrational fears and worries with his usual logic, his reasoning slowly putting Virgil’s racing mind at ease. 

Logan was who he should go to now, after his dreams had warped reality, made him question his own safety in the waking world. 

But...

A flash of pain, a hand grabbing the collar of his shirt and slamming him to the wall, hard enough to leave him wheezing. 

It hadn’t been Logan. Logan would never. He’d promised, and proved his good intentions time and time again. Virgil wouldn’t be where he was without the logical side’s help through his recovery. 

He trusted Logan. He loved him- he loved all of them more than he knew how to say. He owed them everything. So there was no reason his stupid brain should come up with something so horrific. 

The things he’d been told hadn’t even made sense. It was just exhausted, paranoid thoughts that had unfortunately come to life in an incredibly vivid nightmare. 

It was something he’d used to worry about, back when the others had first accepted him, Virgil’s terror and confusion convincing him that their kindness was fake, that they would turn around and hurt him too as soon as they were fed up. 

He knew better now. They showed him every day, over and over and over again, that he was safe. That they loved him as much as he loved them. That he wasn’t the only protector in the mindscape. 

That he didn’t deserve the pain. He never had. 

His mind played tricks on him all the time. Hell, sometimes it liked to torment him just as much as the Others used to. He should be used to dreams like this by now. It shouldn’t be leaving him so shaken. 

But the feeling had been so familiar, the dream so eerily vivid, digging up old, long buried fears. It had been confirmation that the Others had been right, that he’d deserved it all, that no one had ever actually wanted him to feel protected. 

It was so stupidly unrealistic. And so, so terrifying. 

He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, held his breath to make as little noise as possible, and descended the stairs by himself. 

Besides, if he told someone about this particular nightmare, he’d only end up upsetting them. They didn’t deserve that. 

So that was how Virgil ended up pressed into the corner of the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and willing himself to stop his violent trembling. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, unfairly realistic dream. 

He didn’t turn on the television, despite knowing the sound would help distract him. His hands refused to move, still clutching tightly at the blanket around his shoulders. 

He stayed where he was, distantly aware the other sides would be up in just a few hours, staring blankly at the wall, letting the awful dream replay over and over again in his head.

The first rays of pale sunlight had begun filtering in through the mindscape’s windows by the time Virgil heard movement upstairs, the familiar creaking of someone moving through the halls. 

He didn’t move, despite how his back protested the way he’d been hunched over for quite a while now, watching warily as Janus made his way downstairs. 

Virgil wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or relieved, but he couldn’t help but smirk at the way Deceit did a double take when he saw the anxious side huddled up on the couch. 

He knew Janus had only recently learned what had happened to Virgil, the beatings always happening when his back was turned, and since Virgil hadn’t actually been the one to say anything, he had no idea how much Deceit knew. 

It still made him uneasy sometimes, the worried, guilt ridden looks he occasionally caught the snake watching him with, the glances he and Remus would share, the less than subtle attempts to give him his space.

Virgil seemed to be the only person Remus was actually careful around, the Duke sure to lower his volume and tone down his movements when the anxious side was in the room (which wasn’t saying much considering the energy Remus had, but Virgil appreciated it regardless), and ever since the panic attack in the kitchen, Virgil hadn’t seen his Morning Star anywhere in sight. 

It was a work in progress, Virgil still wary and unsure around him, but the two of them were gradually learning to coexist and understand each other. 

Janus was...a different story. 

A blind man could see the guilt Deceit was carrying onto, the denial, shock, and anger that never seemed to give him a moment's rest. 

Or maybe Virgil was just able to pick up on it because he’d gone through the exact same thing. He still was. 

Deceit, self proclaimed lord of the lies, hadn’t picked up on the violence and abuse the others had put Virgil through, never once allowing himself to pick up on the little white lies thrown around to keep Virgil helpless. 

And as much as he wanted to sometimes, Virgil couldn’t blame Janus. It wasn’t his fault- the others had known what they were doing, and they’d known Janus would put a stop to it the second he found out. Kicking Virgil around was a pastime they were far too invested in to lose. 

But there were days when pain and sickening fear from memories that wouldn’t leave him alone, when flashbacks and nightmares and panic attacks became too much to handle, that Virgil wished, more than anything, that Janus had intervened. That he’d let himself look closer. That it all could have stopped sooner. 

And he knew Janus wished the same thing. It was probably why he was awake at five in the morning looking like death warmed over. 

Janus was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, and Virgil offered a shaky peace sign in greeting.

“Hey,” he said, grimacing when he realized that it absolutely looked and sounded like he’d been crying for the past hour and a half. Great. “You’re up early.” 

Janus seemed to visibly regain his composure, quickly straightening his back and offering a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Look who’s talking.” 

“I’ve been up a while.” 

He saw Janus frown at that, fiddling with his sleeves, uncertain. “Are you...alright? Do you want coffee?” 

And yeah, that was as much of a heart to heart as either of them were going to have this early in the morning. Virgil wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk about how one of the most ridiculous nightmares he’d ever experienced had left him trembling and crying like a child afraid of the dark. 

“Fuck, yes please. Go get me caffeine.” 

It was enough to get a genuine smile this time, some of the tension seeping out of Deceit’s shoulders as he made his way to the kitchen. 

He was fine. He was home, he was safe, and things were good. The nightmare would fade, as dreams do, and in a little bit they would all eat breakfast together like a family. Like they always did. 

There was absolutely no reason he should still feel so scared. He should be looking forward to everyone waking up, not feeling like he was being led down to the gallows with every tick of the clock. 

Janus was back in just a few moments, two plastic mugs in his hands, and Virgil tried to ignore the way his stomach dropped at the sudden thought of what would happen if he spilled on the couch after he was handed his drink. 

Nothing. Nothing would happen and no one would be mad. God, he needed to get a hold of himself. 

Nothing was going to change. And yet…

“Janus?” he asked quickly, the other side stopping in his tracks. “Where...where are you going to be today?” 

He could feel Janus staring, but Virgil now kept his gaze firmly on the steaming coffee in his lap. 

“My room, most likely,” he said. “I have some things to attend to today.” 

“Could you-” God, this was stupid, this was so needlessly stupid. “Could you like...leave your door unlocked? Just- um...just in case?” 

“Just in case...what, Virgil?” 

“Y-you know.” And really, what was he supposed to answer with? Just in case he’d suddenly been granted the gift of prophetic dreams and he needed a place to hide when Logan started beating him? “Just...in case.” 

He risked a glance up, relieved when there was no ridicule or annoyance in Janus’s eyes, just gentle confusion like he was trying to silently pick apart Virgil’s thoughts. 

“Alright,” he said quietly. “My door isn't open if you need anything.” 

It was...new, Virgil realized, having these careful, honest conversations with Janus. He wasn’t about to drop all his defenses and retell the details of his nightmare, and Deceit knew that, but they were still miles better than they’d been just a week ago. 

“Thanks, Janus.” 

Janus made his way back upstairs, hopefully to get some more sleep, and Virgil settled back against the couch, significantly less shaky than before. It was just a stupid dream. He’d be ok. 

Virgil was aware he was being a complete asshole. 

He’d made the mistake of assuming the paranoid jumpiness from his dream would fade as soon as the mindscape came to life and everything continued on as normal. He hadn’t expected it to get worse. 

He was pretty sure Roman and Patton could tell something was up, but Virgil managed to plaster on a nervous smile and force himself to breathe easy as he was seated at the kitchen table, listening to Roman ramble as Patton started cooking breakfast. 

And then Logan was walking in, muttering a quiet greeting, and the panic had hit full force. 

Which was completely ridiculous, especially as Logan just offered him a warm, tired smile and made his way over to the pot of coffee. 

It was the same Logan he saw every morning- welcoming and safe, and a very large part of the progress Virgil had made over the months. 

Logan would never hurt him, nobody would...no one was going to…

“Come here, Virgil.” 

There were hands grabbing at him, nails digging into his skin, overpowering and so painfully familiar. 

“Virgil!” 

“Virgil?” Logan was looking at him now, brow pinched, and suddenly they were all staring at him and Virgil couldn’t breathe- when had it become so hard to breathe? 

He stood up from the table, the chair scraping against the floor and nearly tipping over in his rush, stuffing his hands deep into his hoodie pockets to hide the way they were shaking.  

“I- uhm, I’ll be right back.” 

He didn’t have any other excuses. No good ones at least. But the panic was wrapping around him like a vice, cold, cruel hands squeezing his neck, and Logan was taking a cautious step towards him--

Virgil sank out without another word, his mind momentarily set back to the old, terrifying mindset, screaming at him to get out, to run and hide before someone grabbed him…

God, what was wrong with him? 

He ended up locking himself in his bathroom, turning on the sink so the rushing water would drown out his rapid, panicked breathing, turning harshly away from his reflection in the mirror. 

He was fine, he was fine, he was...trying really hard not to plan out escape routes and hiding spots in his head. 

It was an old habit that had practically been second nature to him before living with the light sides, and even a few weeks after. It had helped him feel at ease, pinpointing places he could keep himself hidden and out of the way, even if it often proved to be pointless. 

It was how he’d ended up in the closet, covered in blood with shards of glass coating his skin, so deep in his panic he’d been convinced his family was hurting him. 

He couldn’t risk falling back into old habits. Not now, when he’d been making so much progress. Not over something as meaningless as a dream. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave the bathroom. Not when so many eyes would be on him the second he stepped back into the kitchen. 

So he took extra time to do his makeup, layering on black eyeshadow to cover up how utterly exhausted he looked from his restless night, and took another few moments to stare blankly at the wall when he still wasn’t quite ready to come out. 

When Patton came to check on him, Virgil blamed it on a bit of queasiness and promised to eat something later. 

The guilt became suffocating when he realized the panic didn’t return with Patton’s voice, but it definitely was back with a vengeance when he heard Logan walk down the hallway a few moments later. 

Logan didn’t deserve this. Everything the logical side had done for him, the endless patience, assistance, and careful compassion, and Virgil was right back to being a pathetic mess. 

So maybe that was why he didn’t bother to be subtle about trying to avoid Logan for the rest of the day. Besides, even if he did try to hide his uneasiness, the logical side was always able to pick up on the little things. It would just be a wasted effort. 

Virgil stayed cooped up in his room as much as he could, blasting music in his headphones to drown out any sounds. 

When he did leave (at Patton’s gentle insistence that he eat something for lunch) he was sure to never end up in the same room as Logan, quickly retreating or sinking out whenever the logical side walked in. He resolutely ignored the twisting guilt in his gut at Logan’s small frowns when Virigl would blurt out some half hearted, see-through excuse each time. 

He just needed a day or two. Just a little bit of time for the residual panic to fade and for things to go back to normal. It wasn’t logical, maybe, but...Logan would understand if he knew. 

Except he wouldn’t, and that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? 

Virgil was well aware how difficult he was to deal with, especially earlier on. Logan had sacrificed so much time and effort to teach him, and the others, how to gradually undo the mindset Virgil had been conditioned to have. 

All that work, all that trust, and Virgil was letting one night of nightmares influence him more than any of it. Logan...Logan would probably be furious with him. 

But not enough to hurt him. Never enough to hurt him. 

Virgil wasn’t...afraid of Logan. Despite proving the exact opposite every time he so much as caught a glimpse of the logical side today, Virgil was still coherent enough to know Logan wasn’t going to turn his back on a year’s worth of progress to strike him. 

It was just...instinct taking over. Besides, in the nightmare, Logan’s reasoning for needing to hurt Virgil hadn’t been completely unreasonable. 

Hell, before Logan had explained otherwise, Virgil had thought it was totally understandable that he needed to be hurt. He hated it, but it helped Thomas. That was a fact. 

And like Logan always said, numbers didn’t lie. If Virgil being in pain was beneficial, then Virgil would stay in pain. 

But Logan had been the first one to tell him that was false. He’d been the one to lay out the real facts and evidence to show how Virgil hurting would only worsen Thomas’s health, and his own. 

They’d all helped Virgil realize, for the first time, that he never should have been hurt. He’d never deserved it. Any of it. 

That was why he just needed to wait it out. He couldn’t talk this one out with the others, couldn’t face Logan just yet. It would just end up hurting him (that was what Virgil did best, after all) and Logan didn’t deserve that. 

Unfortunately, Virgil was starting to really wish he’d had the courage to ask for reassurance when the sky grew dark and the mindscape quieted, and he quickly realized he was far too on edge to go to bed. 

He was right back on the couch where he’d started the day, somehow even more jumpy and paranoid than he’d been that morning. He stared blankly at his phone, wondering if the dream would return if he fell asleep. 

Great. He’d probably be pulling an all-nighter. Maybe multiple if he couldn’t get a grip. Patton was going to kill him when he found out. 

“Virgil?” 

Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketed at the voice from the staircase, breath catching in his throat as he dug his nails into the couch cushions. He didn’t look up, even as he felt Logan’s eyes on him, completely frozen under the weight of his gaze. 

“Virgil,” Logan said again, steady and emotionless, impossible to read. “May I speak with you?” 

Virgil’s heart was beating in his now tightening chest, and he furiously told himself to calm down. But his body wasn’t cooperating with his mind, panic overpowering reason, and Virgil desperately searched for an excuse before Logan could realize how terrified he was. 

“I- um...I was just heading to bed, so--” 

“I only require a moment of your time,” Logan said. “As you usually sleep at a much later hour than this, I’m sure that won't be an issue.” 

Virgil took a shaky breath, wincing when he realized how obviously unsettled he must look. Logan didn’t sound angry, but...well, it was always so hard to tell. 

But there wasn’t a way out. He just hoped he could play it off long enough for Logan to give up. “Ok. Yeah, what’s...what’s up.” 

He tried not to think about how eerily similar this was to the nightmare. How Logan had calmly asked to speak with him. How he’d pulled out his notebook and presented neatly recorded data of Virgil’s health paralleled with Thomas’s. 

“It seems Thomas’s productivity has only decreased since we began treating you as an equal, Virgil.” 

“It seems the Others were right, your pain does make life easier.” 

“We will, of course, have to return to that method. You understand, I’m sure.” 

Virgil resisted the urge to flinch as Logan sat down at the other end of the couch, careful to keep his distance. 

He wrapped his arms around himself, shuddering under the phantom feeling of hands grabbing him, so tight it bruised his skin, both from nightmares and memories he could never let go of. 

“You’ve been avoiding me today.” 

Virgil did flinch this time, curling into a tighter ball. “N-no I haven’t.” 

Yeah, that was convincing. He could practically picture the exasperated eye roll Janus would give him if he were here. He kind of wished someone else would show up- anything to cause a distraction. 

Logan wasn’t here to hurt him. Logan would never hurt him. No one would hurt him. 

“I can...see my presence is causing you some distress,” Logan said, and Virgil felt like crying. “I do not wish to force you to speak with me, but I’ve clearly done something to trigger a reaction.”

He paused, obviously waiting for some kind of response or confirmation. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, and Logan sighed before continuing. 

“It was never my intention to do anything to upset you. As is always the case, I only wish to identify the trigger so it does not happen again, and offer my sincere apologies. But I cannot do that if you won’t talk to me, Virgil.” 

God, why couldn’t Logan just be angry? He wouldn’t go back for anything in the world, but sometimes…

Sometimes it felt like being screamed at, punched and kicked and thrown around until he couldn’t move had been easier. At least then, he knew what to expect. 

Nobody had cared about him back then. And now...now Logan, Patton, Roman, Janus, and even Remus just wanted him to be ok. It scared him sometimes, how much he loved them. 

“It...it’s not that,” Virgil said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s...fuck, you didn’t do anything Logan. You...you’re fine.” 

Logan was silent a moment before responding. “I find that hard to believe. You are currently under visible distress, which didn’t begin until after I made my presence known. This has happened every time I have walked into the room today. You skipped breakfast after I--”

“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” Virgil winced at his own outburst, now looking anywhere but at Logan. God, why was he always such an asshole? “I’m...sorry. I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to...it’s just me, ok? I’m being stupid like always and--” 

“You are not stupid,” Logan cut in, that stern but gentle tone he always used to talk Virgil out of a self deprecating spiral. “You tend to overthink and jump to often unrealistic conclusions, but as I have told you many times that does not change how intelligent and thoughtful you are.” 

Virgil shrugged, the praise just making him feel more guilty about what he was putting the logical side through. “I’m still being stupid, though.” 

“Falsehood. Something has frightened you, and clearly I am at the source. I only wish to assist.” 

Well. Now he was going to have to tell Logan. Even if he was upset afterwards, annoyance was far better than Logan walking around, weighed down by guilt and blaming himself for something he didn’t do. 

But apparently Virgil hesitated just a second too long, and Logan was suddenly speaking again. 

“Perhaps we can try a different approach,” he offered. “Could you...explain why you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?” 

Virgil took a shaky breath. “You’re...gonna be mad.” 

“At you?” Logan asked, and Virgil nodded. “I sincerely doubt that. Why do you believe I’m going to be angry?” 

Virgil hunched over himself, and suddenly everything came spilling out. “Because...because you’ve done so much. I owe you all everything and I still...I’m still letting myself panic over a stupid fucking dream. After everything! And you...you don't deserve that. I-I’m sorry for avoiding you I didn’t mean to- to make you think--” 

There was a hand on his shoulder, barely brushing the cloth of his hoodie, but Virgil still flinched back before he could stop himself, and Logan quickly pulled away. 

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered. “I- I’m not--” 

“No apologies necessary,” Logan said, sounding much more calm than Virgil would have expected. “There’s no shame in being affected by a particularly bad dream.” 

Virgil scoffed, glancing up just enough to see Logan’s worried frown. “Sure.” 

“I mean it, Virgil. Especially considering your past. I understand if a vivid nightmare was enough for you to revert back to an old mindset. Staying vigilant and avoiding threats is what kept you safe back then, isn’t it?”

Safe was a strong word- he had never really been safe before, but...avoidance had been a survival technique. If he thought someone was angry, the only thing he could do was stay out of their way and hide. 

“But it’s you,” he argued. “I...it was so stupid you- you were saying that they were right. When...when they said that hurting me helped Thomas, and then...and then you showed me all this- this fucking data or whatever that me being safe hurt everyone and I...y-you all said I had to go back to how it was and I…” 

He trailed off, face burning when a few traitorous tears slipped down his cheeks, and he furiously wiped them away with his sleeves, breathing deeply. 

“Virgil--” 

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I’m...I know it’s dumb, ok? It’s just a stupid dream and you would never...I mean, if any of that was true you would have said something months ago, right?” 

For the first time, he looked up to meet Logan’s gaze, suddenly finding himself speechless at the sheer amount of emotion behind his glasses. Warm but worried, calculating and understanding. 

And then, slowly, he was standing from the couch. “Please wait here just a moment, Virgil. I believe there is something you should see.” 

And then just like that he was gone, hurrying up the stairs without another word. For just a second, Virgil considered retreating, and apologizing for this entire conversation tomorrow when he was more put together. 

But he didn’t need to make this any more unfair for Logan than it already was. Besides, the logical side was back in less than a minute, something held tight in his hand as he returned to his spot on the couch. 

“What’s that?” Virgil asked, hoping his voice didn’t betray just how sickeningly nervous he felt. 

Logan held it out to him, slow enough that Virgil didn’t flinch at the movement. He took it in his hands, realizing it was a plain black spiral notebook, and his heart clawed its way up to his throat. 

“What’s--?” 

“Flip through it, please,” Logan said calmly. “I believe you’ll find it interesting. And it may do something to set your mind at ease.” 

So far it was doing the exact opposite, but Virgil obeyed and slowly began turning the pages. 

It was clearly well-used, the some of the pages bent or wrinkled, but other than that it was still pristine and organized like everything that belonged to Logan. 

Some pages had hand drawn graphs or what looked like data tables, others had written entries in Logan’s writing. Virgil skimmed through them, catching glimpses of his name, and occasionally the other’s, all of the descriptions of events and conversations vaguely familiar. 

He had...absolutely no idea what the hell this was. 

And Logan apparently picked up on that, the logical side suddenly clearing his throat and scooting closer, still far enough away for the couch to not feel crowded. 

“It’s, uhm...well, you see when we had first learned of your past I wanted to ensure that we found the best methods to help you feel...safe. And at home. I suppose I should have told you, I completely understand if you’re--” 

“Wait a second,” Virgil said, the pieces falling together. “This is...you kept notes on me? On...my recovery?” 

It was Logan’s turn to avoid his gaze now, and Virgil’s heart sank when he realized Logan looked nervous. 

“I apologize if it is invasive,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t my intention. It’s a bit of a habit, I suppose. I tend to take extensive notes on things I find...important. And finding the best way to help you was incredibly important to me, Virgil.” 

Virgil felt like crying again, but for an entirely different reason this time. “Lo, that’s...god, that’s so fucking sweet.” 

Logan’s head snapped up, eyes widening when he saw Virgil’s widening smile. “I- you believe so?” 

“Dude, are you kidding? I’ve never...sometimes I just...can’t believe how much you guys care.” 

Logan matched his smile, and carefully, slowly enough that Virgil could pull away, scooted closer to see the open notebook. 

“I’ve been sure to document all of your progress at least once a week, no matter how small. And there has been a lot of it, even if you don’t always think so.” 

“Logan--” 

“But the reason I wanted you to see this today,” he continued, reaching over to turn a few pages. “Is because I occasionally compare your progress to Thomas’s productivity and overall wellbeing.” 

Virgil had absolutely no idea what the graphs and symbols Logan was pointing at meant, but the other side was right there to explain it to him. 

“Your progress, as well as how safe you began to feel around us, directly parallels Thomas's increased mental health. You being safe and healthy makes him better, Virgil. You being happy makes us better.” 

And...yeah, there was absolutely no way for Virgil to stop himself from crying this time. He didn’t really have any intention to stop, anyway. It was a nice change of pace to cry from happiness for once. 

Logan, unfortunately didn’t seem to know the difference. “I am...so sorry, I didn’t mean to--” 

Virgil cut him off by pulling him into a hug, holding on tight and squeezing his eyes shut. Logan relaxed against him, and slowly moved to wrap his arms around Virgil’s back. 

“I was going to offer you space and time to recuperate,” Logan said, and Virgil tightened his grip. “I’m pleased to see you are considerably less afraid of me now.” 

“I’m not afraid of you,” Virgil said quickly, not yet ready to pull away. “I’m not...and I wasn’t, I promise I just...my stupid brain is always--” 

“Your brain is not stupid,” Logan chided, and Virgil dropped his arms when he pulled back. “It’s had to learn to keep you alive under very unfortunate circumstances. It’s a survivor.” 

Virgil snorted, despite the way his chest felt light at the words. “I mean...I guess so.” 

Logan leaned back against the couch, the notebook still open in between them, and he drummed his fingers against his thigh before speaking again. 

“Something I need you to understand,” he said. “Is that in the grand scheme of things, the contents of this notebook don’t matter.” 

“But it’s--” 

“We were correct in assuming that helping you would, in turn, help Thomas. But even if we were wrong, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter if there were benefits, and it wouldn’t matter if keeping you safe negatively affected Thomas. You would never, ever be struck. You would never be beaten or grabbed or screamed at or threatened. No matter the situation. It would never be an option to us.” 

There it was again, like he’d heard so many times before but so, so much more intense tonight. The compassion, the dedication, the emotions Logan denied while feeling so strongly. 

Virgil blinked away a new wave of tears. “I...I don’t ever want to hurt Thomas.” 

“Then it is a good thing this is only hypothetical,” Logan said. “You very clearly do no such thing. I only wanted you to understand that no matter the circumstances, your place with us will never change. You will never have any reason to fear for your safety again.” 

Virgil didn’t know how Logan did it, how the side who claimed to be the most alienated when it came to emotional responses, always seemed to be able to make everything right. 

The jumpiness and awful paranoia had already almost completely faded, leaving behind a soft blanket of soft fatigue. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and Logan smiled. 

“Of course. I’ll remind you any time you need. Would you like to be alone, or would you like to stay with me tonight?” 

Virgil smiled, wiping his eyes again. “Can I stay? Please?” 

Logan reached out a hand, his own smile gentle and warm, and Virgil knew they’d both be passed out to some old space documentary like they usually did when Virgil had a bad dream. 

“Of course, Virgil.”