#anyway I’m read the the cruel prince and oddly it finally got good

[orangespottedgiraffe]

Not her snitching on her sister like that

After all she did and then to be like she was dancing with him

I would’ve beat her ass after I got out that room

Also I’m not done yet

Not her choosing a man over her own sister her own mortal sister literal twin sister what

[sweetea-rosey]

Ooo hi I saw you take requests? I have a writing request if you want to :))

So here is my idea:

Remus has a notebook given to him by the other sides to write his thoughts down in. See, Remus has clear impulse control problems so this notebook of for him to write his thoughts down instead of just doing and saying whatever comes to mind. It gives him a chance to think about it. Sometimes, maybe like once a week give or take a few days one of the other sides will sit down with him and read his thoughts with him just to make him feel validated and heard. Well this particular time one of the sides (of your choice) sat down with the notebook and found some rather interesting things.

Now, you can take this one of two ways (it’s really all up to you!)- You can make this something angsty (hurt comfort), or you can make it something shippy! It can be any Remus ship you want but I personally am more partial to intrulogical hehe 💙💚

Take your time and have fun with it!! Have a good day :)

Ah! Ty for the request! I started writing it on the day you submitted it, but Tumblr deleted it after a while of not saving :') so now my motivation to do this is deterred

Anyway, this'll be my first time not writing something Roman centric =w=""

Remus held the book in his hands. He remembered the day Roman gave it to him, when he risked traveling into the dark scape because he knew his brother needed this. Because he did, too.

An outlet.

A place for his monstrosities to be, other than inside his head, allowed to torture him to their best abilities. The illusions his mind creates are no longer just in his eyes. It's no longer insanity- it's creativity. The journal isn't the first one. But he and Roman make sure to keep eachother stocked up; they get filled rather quickly. The Imagination holds an entire library dedicated to their filled journals from over the years.

The journals have also become sort of diaries to them. So, imagine what were to happen if one of them got lost? The possibility of their secrets being seen by unbidden eyes.

Remus burst into Roman's room, "Ro!"

Roman jumped from his spot at his desk, "Jeez- ! What is it?"

Oddly, for Remus, he seemed almost anxious, "Have you seen my latest journal?"

Ah, that explains it. Roman understands the severity of losing something that holds your private thoughts. He stood up from his desk chair, turning to face Remus better, "No, I haven't. Is it missing?"

Remus nodded, unable to speak through the panic coursing through his veins, the hormone mixing with the feeling of the plasma we call blood rushing through veins and arteries, rest in his heart, which is thumping with vigor, the- Remus shook himself. The imagery coming on its own with nothing to do with it, "Thoughts, thoughts thoughts, thoughts, blood, where? Everywhere? It is me, I am thoughts and blood and gore and death and slime, and..."

Roman pulled his brother in, the physical touch of his second half grounding him, finally balanced out with his brother there to help him.

"Breathe, Ree...I get it...I'll help you look for it, okay? Do you have any spare journals?"

Remus shook his head. He had just started this one, he was too busy brainstorming on the pages to remember to restock.

"Okay, do you have the focus to conjur any, right now?"

Remus shook his head again. No no, of course not! He's too focused on the one that's missing!

"Alright, that's okay, Ree. I get it. Here, use this for now," As Roman spoke, he pressed a plain black book in the unstable man's hands, "Get some thoughts out on that, then we can start looking, okay?"

Instead of answering, he made the rest of the way into the prince's room and started letting the thoughts out.

.

.

.

"Feel better?"

Remus let out a breath and nodded, "A lot, thanks. Can we go look, now?"

"Of course, let's go."

It took hours. The sun was gone in Thomas' living room and they were still tearing the place apart, searching absolutely everywhere. Remus was tempted to just dismantle the mind palace and look through the stuff that gets left behind. The fear was boiling in his gut in the ocean of acid.

"What if we don't find it? My blood, sweat, and tears went into that book! Pieces of my heart are in there, I can't lose it, what if someone else finds it and reads it?"

Roman shuddered, because he didn't believe that Remus was being metaphorical, "I understand the severity of the situation, Ree. We should go look in the Lightside, now..."

Remus shrugged as much as his slumped posture will allow, "Sure..."

"We'll find it, Ree..."

"That's not what I'm worried about. If I lose it? Fine, I have others, I can start a new one. I'm scared of someone else finding it and reading it... there's things in there I don't want others seeing..."

"I get it, you know I do. We'll get it back before anyone else can even know it exists, alright?"

Remus just shrugged off his comforting hand, "Stupid prince, always making promises you don't even know if you can keep. Don't do that to yourself and don't do it to me. I'm not stupid enough to fall for that shit."

Roman recoiled, almost physically, "Sometime, people just need reassurance."

"And then, when you're wrong? I know you don't like breaking promises, Princey."

"...Then hopefully we'll figure it out."

"You're such a fucking optimist, it's gross."

Roman rolled his eyes, "I'm helping you look, be nice, you doofus."

"Oh wow, "doofus", I'm so offended," Remus said without much effort.

Roman ignored him.

.

.

.

"It's not HERE!" Remus screamed, a pot crashing through the wall.

Roman manged to muffle the noise and quickly put it back together, "We will, this was only the first room in the Lightside. You need to calm down."

"I can't! What if someone else already found it and read it? What if they hate me? What if they never wanna talk to me again because nothing in there makes sense, what-"

Roman caught his hands, "Woah! Woah...Remus, when did you start caring so much about what the others think of you?"

"I don't!"

"But...-"

"I don't care about what Logan and the other think of me."

"Of what...Logan and the...? Remus...is this about Logan?"

Remus hesitated just long enough.

"Oh great Aphrodite, it is..."

"Aphro-? NO! No, I don't!"

"Remus, is there something about Logan on that book?"

Remus said fuck it in his mind and sighed, "Yes... I...some fantasies...that he might not approve of..."

"Oh, Remus..."

"What if he finds out, and he...? He just doesn't...?"

Roman hit his brother on the head, "This is why you're a doofus. It doesn't matter if he finds it, you have nothing to worry about."

Remus rolled his eyes. Literally. He rolled them like dice and Roman had to look away, but got the message.

"How would you know?"

It was Roman's turn to roll his eyes (PROPERLY).

"I'm leaving you to figure that out. But, I do."

"Sure. Whatever. Asshole."

Roman moved on to look in the next room.

.

.

.

A flash of green leaped onto him and he was tumbling over, the item in his hands flying out.

"Remus!"

The man scrambled over and snatched the book up, "Did you read it?"

"I- no, Remus what is it?"

"It's mine. Roman, I found it!"

Roman? Since when do those two talk? But, as Remus said, Roman walked in.

"Oh, thank Hades."

"Logan had it."

Roman sucked in a breath, "Did he read it?"

Remus shook his head, relief is a weird expression on the man's face.

Logan wouldn't mind seeing it more.

"What is this about?"

Roman took the liberty of answering, "The book is Remus' and it's private. Reading it would be invasive."

"Oh, my apologies, then. But, I had just picked it up, it was left over from Remus' running through the room and into the Imagination, along with some other debris I cleaned up."

"It's alright, nerd."

Logan's gaze lingered on Remus a bit, before he bid his farewells, reminded Roman of some work he needs to do by Friday, then left.

"Y'know," Roman said as they turned to walk back, "You could tell him how you feel."

Remus scoffed, "I'm not self destructive, like you, RoRo."

Ignoring Remus' jabs is difficult for the prince, nevertheless, "And do, pray tell, how it's self destructive?"

"Because he'll say no and that will hurt. I don't like when things actually hurt. I'm not risking him hating me even more."

"Woah, woah, he doesn't hate you."

"Doesn't he? I'm chaotic, irrational, vile, ik everything he fights to keep under control."

Roman digested this and thought hard on how best to explain this, "But that's exactly why you two are perfect for each other. You help him let loose when he's being a stick in the mud and he helps you keep in control of yourself and stay organized.

"You're delusional. He doesn't like me, he can't Ro. It goes against our very beings! Go ahead and fool yourself, but you can't do that to me. That's just cruel." Remus disappeared and Roman sighed as he tried to brush off his brother's words.

As the embodiment of romance, he thinks he'd know when a couple will work out or not. How will he convince his brother and Logan of that? He supposes he can't blame them for that, who would listen to the love advice of someone who loves someone that loves someone else? Kinda hypocritical.

.

.

.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Remus! Would calm down? Just listen to me!"

"No! You're a liar and I hate you! Do you want me to get hurt? You're an asshole you good for nothing prince!" He screamed. Why won't his brother let this go? Doesn't he see that everyone is better this way?

"Fine! You're right! Is that what you want to hear? Call me an asshole, call me stupid, call me evil or whatever! But I'm not wrong! Why don't you believe me? Ha! Why am I trying to reason with the self proclaimed unreasonable?"

Remus looked down from his perch on the guillotine, "Wait, RoRo-!" But he was gone.

"Fuck."

He rushed out, hoping to Loki that he didn't do too much damage.

"Roman!"

But he found who he wants looking for.

"Why are you screaming in the middle of the common room?" Came that cool and sexy voice.

"Looking for my brother, duh."

"Funny, I just spoke to him."

"Where'd he go?"

"Not sure, but he told me to stop being a robotic fake and confess to you."

"He- ? ROMAN!" Remus summoned a hammer and maybe there's a new hole in the wall.

"He was right, surprisingly."

Remus was not expecting that, "Come again?"

"I have noticed, over the course of our interactions, that I have developed feelings that I didn't recognized until Roman brought them to my attention. Remus...I have romantic feelings for you."

And it was the last casual and calculated confession Remus ever heard. He imagined something with ropes. But it was the best thing he ever heard. He didn't expect to be crying.

"Remus?"

"I like you, too..."

Logan brightened and stood up, his heart beating unnaturally, yet pleasently, as he moved closer, "Then... perhaps we...?"

But before he could finish, Remus pulled him in and there was no need for words.

Part 2 with what happened with Roman afterwards?

Ty so much for the request and I apologies for the long wait.

@fireflyjunkie

[hchollym]

Aerion x Viserys - We Finally Got Our Dragons

I couldn’t help myself. I will go down with this crack ship  🤣

Warnings: Afterlife, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Age Difference

Read it on AO3. 

____________

Most people think that a person finds peace after they die. Aerion would tell you differently.

The Targaryens have their own “exclusive” afterlife, stuck for eternity with only one another for company. While he's glad that they all appear as they were right before they died and not as they died (for then he would have a hole in his throat and be unable to talk), it still does not change the fact that he’s stuck with these shits forever. Most of his relatives find enjoyment (or at least contentment) here (seeing as half of them are married to each other), but for others – like Aerion – this place is a special kind of hell.

He died drinking wildfire. It certainly wasn’t his finest moment, nor was it something that he wants to remember, given the resulting pain. And yet, his family will never let him forget it. They torment him about it daily, as if he hadn’t already suffered enough.

“Oh look, it’s the Prince Who Thought He Was A Dragon,” they sneer at him whenever he walks by. It’s not as if he’s the first Targaryen to think of himself as a dragon and die because of it. What about all the other fools who got themselves killed trying to hatch a dragon egg? Why aren’t they mocked as he is?

Even his own father sighs disapprovingly when he sees him, as if Aerion brought him embarrassment. It makes Aerion scoff. His older brother was literally known as “Daeron the Drunken” and yet Aerion is somehow the stain on their family name? It’s absolutely ridiculous. His brothers ignore him (he hears their comments about Aerion the Monstrous, and really, when are they going to get over it?).

His own son, Maegor – who joined them when he got into a fight with the wrong person at a tavern – won’t talk to Aerion, because he blames Aerion’s “madness” as the reason he never got the throne. How ungrateful can you be? Maegor wouldn’t even be alive without Aerion.

His bitch of a wife isn’t much better. She refuses to allow him into her bed, and her brother and father are more than happy to guard her chamber door. To be honest, it’s not a huge loss though; she was annoying anyway, always crying and whimpering and screaming while he was trying to enjoy himself. Still, it’s the audacity that angers him.

You would think that the ancestors would grow tired of insulting him after so many years, but it appears that there is not nearly enough exciting news to go around here, so the taunts and insults go on year after year. Even the “Mad King” doesn’t get scorned as much, because people seem to either fear him or feel pity for his insanity.

Aerion tries to ignore most of the ridicule by keeping to himself, which is thankfully easy to do in this endless hallway with infinite corridors and chambers, but that doesn’t completely stop the talk from reaching his ears. He’d been humiliated, angry, and defensive for the first decade or so of these disrespectful comments, but after more than 60 years, he’s just sick and tired of it.

So when the others stop talking about him and begin insulting another, one they mockingly call "the last dragon" and "the beggar king,” Aerion is initially relieved, and then intrigued. He questions his father, who will at least answer him (albeit grudgingly). When he hears the tale of this Viserys, he feels an instant kinship that takes him by surprise.

He’s never felt like he could relate to someone else before, but the fact is, Viserys thought himself a dragon and he too died for it in an excruciating way. The other man was treated like shit in life and now again in death by his own family (Aerion knows the feeling), and his own sister had him killed in a cruel twist of irony.

Aerion’s glad that the attention on him has finally stopped, but he finds himself unexpectedly feeling sympathy for Viserys – an emotion so foreign to him that it took him a while to identify what it was. Perhaps it's because they share similar deaths (though by vastly different means), or that Aerion knows what it's like to be humiliated by the hypocritical ancestors, or because he knows what it’s like for your own family to turn on you.

He hears that Viserys' mother won't even give him sympathy because of how he treated his sister, but so what? The bitch killed him. Why are mothers always so quick to defend the weak? Aerion’s own mother is still angry at him for his treatment of Aegon, but he doesn’t think he has anything to apologize for. Why should he be “nice” to pathetic people? Daenerys should have been grateful that Viserys raised her after they fled King's Landing. Aerion would have sold her immediately to the highest buyer and bought himself a nice house until he raised his army to take back the throne.

He hears through the gossip that Viserys locks himself inside his chambers to avoid the others, which Aerion also understands. He's not entirely sure why he decides to go see him, but perhaps it's because he’s sick of being judged and looked down on, and Viserys seems like the one person who won’t do that.

He makes his way to Viserys’ chambers, holding his head high and ignoring the looks he gets along the way, only to find that the others have painted slurs on the door, and Aerion feels disgust at their tackiness. How old are they? Five? He opens the doors without knocking and sees a man sitting on the bed, his elbows rested on his knees and his head in his hands. When the figure looks up, his expression one of annoyance, anger, and pure exhaustion (a combination which Aerion knows well), and Aerion is struck by just how young he is.

For some reason, he pictured Viserys as close to his age, but he couldn't have been more than 25, though Aerion guesses it’s actually closer to 20. He's practically still a boy, and Aerion feels a hot wave of rage rush through him. This is who they are tormenting for making mistakes when he was exiled in Essos (by no fault of his own), trying to care for an ungrateful sister who eventually murdered him? Honestly, and they thought he was monstrous!

"I'm Aerion Brightflame," he starts before Viserys can get upset at his intrusion. He refuses to give up using that name; the ancestors can go fuck themselves. Viserys' expression clears, and he blinks in confusion before frowning warily.

"What do you want?" He asks suspiciously, and Aerion shrugs nonchalantly.

"I know how these shits can be when they decide to harass someone. Fuck them. You don’t need any of these bumbling fools. You and I, we're still dragons," he assures Viserys, not entirely understanding why he feels compelled to do so, but Aerion knows that he still is a dragon, regardless of how everything ended, and he’s willing to say that Viserys is as well out of solidarity for the mutual enemies/family. Viserys looks shocked before scowling.

"Clearly not, seeing as melted gold killed me, and fire cannot kill a dragon," he points out bitterly, not even mentioning Aerion's own failures, for which Aerion feels unexpectedly grateful for. He sits down next to Viserys, and he finds it hilarious how the other man looks alarmed and ready to flee.

"And how many others have been killed by fire when trying and failing to hatch dragon eggs? We're still Targaryens. We’re still dragons, no matter what those stupid sea cows have to say.” Viserys' expression changes from one of shock to hesitant gratitude. It's a look that Aerion is not used to having directed at him; fear, anger, and even lust are common emotions he’s used to seeing when people look at him, but never gratitude. It makes his stomach churn oddly.

After that, they form a strange bond of companionship. They spend most of their time in one of their chambers (it’s easier to avoid the others that way), but occasionally they venture out to the other rooms with alcohol or food. They don't need either, but it provides them with a distraction to the never-ending boredom. They even throw knives sometimes, though Aerion had to teach Viserys because he never learned.

Their conversations start by talking about all the people they hate and are angry at (of which there are many). Then it changes to their time in Essos (the good, the bad, and the ugly). And finally, they talk of their own failures; the feel of the gold burning through Viserys' skin and hair; the way the wildfire scorched Aerion’s throat and blinded him in pain. They talk of how humiliating it was (and still is), and of their disappointment in the way their lives turned out.

It's odd, because Aerion has never felt the urge to share his thoughts with anyone - no one was ever good enough or would truly understand (until now) - but he finds that it's actually rather nice. He quickly decides that he hates Viserys’ brother Rhaegar – he started this whole mess and yet he still looks at Viserys with disappointment, and it makes Aerion want to burn him. And Viserys quickly decides that Maegor is being selfish by hating his own father. Aerion’s found an unexpected ally in Viserys, and it’s the first time he’s felt anything other than miserable since his death.

...

Maybe it happens because of their surprisingly easy companionship, or maybe it’s because they are so isolated from everyone else (no one else seems capable of getting along with them), or maybe it's even simply because it's been years since Aerion slept with someone. Regardless of the reasons, they somehow end up in bed together. Aerion doesn’t know exactly how it happened, but he’s not complaining.

Viserys accepted being the bottom quickly enough, and Aerion found out later that it's because it wasn’t his first time; he’d been forced to sell his body in order to survive at his lowest points in exile, and Aerion’s never felt protective of anyone before, but he feels it now for Viserys. He also feels irrationally jealous that someone else dared to touch what is his, and yes, he has come to think of Viserys as his.

Viserys is wonderfully responsive, biting his shoulder, scratching his back until he bleeds, moaning and cursing loudly, urging him to go faster and harder. It makes Aerion’s blood sing, his thoughts fuzzy, and the heat envelop him all over until he’s nearly drowning in it.

But it's Viserys’ eyes that really send Aerion over the edge. The pale, lilac orbs dilate in lust, but there's also anger, determination, and hurt in them. Viserys has a vulnerability in his eyes that Aerion would have thought had been destroyed years ago, but somehow it remains, and it's both intoxicating and addicting to see.

When Aerion finally decides to try bottoming (because why the hell not? they're dead, and he’s bored and ready to do something new), he finishes embarrassingly quick. It's better than he ever imagined; fire seems to completely consume him, so hot and bright that Aerion feels like he might pass out. Viserys' cock rubs against a place inside of him that causes sparks to shoot throughout his entire body, and all he can do is pant and gasp as he clings to Viserys for dear life, thinking that if he weren't already dead, then this would definitely kill him because it's too much, but he wants it more than anything.

Viserys never mentions his premature response, and they don’t talk about the fact that Aerion starts to roll them over more and more so he can wrap his legs around Viserys' waist, urging the other man to fuck him. He's relieved by Viserys' lack of acknowledgement, because even in death, he still has his pride, and it's embarrassing how much he loves to fall apart underneath the younger man.

And when Viserys guides Aerion to ride him like a stallion for the first time, Aerion screams himself hoarse, and it suddenly reminds him too much of the wildfire burning his throat, and he starts to panic, so Viserys holds him until he calms, but they don't talk about that either.

...

When Daenerys does finally show up, Aerion becomes insanely angry. She's cold and distant, though she does try to talk to Viserys, and Aerion wants to kill her. How dare she?! He refuses to let her see Viserys until the younger man finally tells him to leave them so they can speak.

Aerion feels something hot and ugly churn in his stomach at that, and he waits by the door until Daenerys leaves, looking only barely fazed. He instantly goes inside to see Viserys' eyes shining with angry tears. He still hasn't gotten good at hiding his emotions yet, and truthfully, Aerion kind of hopes that he never does.

"She hatched the dragons. The fire didn't kill her," Viserys says angrily, but there's also jealously and pure despair there, and Aerion doesn't like it. He pulls Viserys into his arms and kisses him soundly until Viserys pulls back and leans his head on Aerion's chest, sighing heavily.

"Why her?" He asks, though the unspoken why not me? is obvious.

"Because the gods are cruel," he answers honestly, because she didn’t deserve it more than either of them.

"But it doesn't change things. She's here now, just like us, with no dragons. Fuck her, and fuck all of them. We are still dragons," Aerion continues vehemently. He feels Viserys swallow and nod, as if trying to convince himself.

"We are dragons," Viserys says shakily before gaining confidence.

"We are dragons. And while she's here alone, I have you now; my own dragon," he finishes stubbornly, and Aerion feels a rush of something that he chooses not to examine further at those words. He tightens his grip on Viserys and kisses the top of his head.

"And I have you. Looks like we both finally got our dragons."

[haunting-kind-of-high]

Another Brick In The Wall (Part 1)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Virgil is sure he is a dark side. He's not a part of the lighter sides, that is for sure. He doesn't help Thomas like they do, he doesn't have a purpose like they do. He can't be one of them.

But at the same time, he doesn't feel like he belongs with the other, darker sides either. They're cruel and unpredictable, Virge being their favourite target. It feels wrong, but Virgil can't quite explain why. It doesn't matter anyways, because even if he knew, there's no way he could get away.

(First few chapters set pre-YouTube)

Warnings: Physical abuse, emotional abuse, psychological abuse, verbal abuse, mentions of psychological abuse/torture, some claustrophobia, cleithrophobia, nyctophobia, being locked in a small space, self-loathing, anxiety, panic attack, mention of Deceit and mentions of hallucinations

Tag list: @musicphanpie-b, @imin-loveanon, @ordinary-chaos, @sandersandthesides, @ajumbleofwords, @demonickittykat, @zadi-jyne, @serenefreakgeek, @fandons-mangoes, @leesacrakon, @gayfagg, @tree4life25, @loverofpizzaandallthingssweet, @ilovemygaydad, @kittyboof8, @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2, @sammy-writes-stuff, @jd-lightful, @storytellerofuntoldlegends,

Notes: Here is another fic of mine, which is... yeah it's probably going to be bad, but the warnings gave that away I think. I was in a really bad angst mood when I started this and I am so sorry lmao. I am constantly questioning my actions. This fic is rated Teens and up on AO3, just a heads up

The idea of Pride as a dark side was inspired by @dreamsshadowwashere, but this is completely my own interpretation obviously, I just liked the idea of Pride and the way it could fit my plot.

I will try to update this fic once every two weeks. Let's hope I can keep it up lmao

Read on AO3 here

“Open the door,” Virgil muttered softly, leaning against the door, his eyes squeezed shut. “Please. I- I’m sorry. Please… let me out?”

His voice was weak, strained from having protested for what must have been hours. He was sat on the floor of the closet that the other side had trapped him in. It was small and dark and he felt so trapped and he just wanted to get out but he knew he couldn’t get out unless they wanted him to.

The first hour had been the worst. It always was. He’d panic and cry and beg to be let out, knowing that his pleas would have no use. The others never listened. But it was fine. He deserved it for being a nuisance. It was his own damn fault he’d been trapped in there.

To be fair, Virgil wasn’t sure exactly what caused this punishment this time. He remembered being in his own room, in a discussion with the other sides about whether they should let Thomas take part in an audition for a role in Phantom of the Opera – an audition for the Phantom –  or not. Virgil argued against it, as the mere thought of it made his anxiety grow. The Phantom was such an iconic role, there was so much to it, and if Thomas messed it up… it would be a disaster. He would be ridiculed. All eyes would be on him. Everyone would want to see the Phantom. And if Thomas got the role, there would be so much pressure on him. Virgil wasn’t sure he wanted to agree to that. Even just going to the audition would be nerve-wrecking. Who didn’t dream of playing the Phantom of the opera? Everyone would want to try out for the part. There would be tons of competition. How could Thomas compete with that? It would only make him more anxious and insecure, Virgil just knew this.

The next thing he knew, the door was forcefully opened, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Virgil flinched as he spun around, just in time to see Pride approaching him quickly, anger burning in his eyes. The anxious side stumbled backwards, until his back hit the wall, already preparing for what was about to come.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” Pride hissed, getting uncomfortably close to the other side. Virgil tried to shy away from the side in front of him, but all his exits were blocked off. Pride placed his hands on either side of Virgil’s head, making sure the other could not escape him. Virgil shook his head, not daring to look up at Pride. Instead, he focussed on the dark red sash the side wore over his black shirt, hoping the dark colour would somehow calm him down. He had no idea if it would work, but maybe, if he had something to focus on, then-

Pride roughly grabbed Virgil’s jaw and pulled his face up, forcing the two of them to lock eyes. “I asked you a question, Virgil.”

Virgil tensed up. They never used his real name. They always called him Anxiety. They only used his name if he was in big trouble.

“I- I- I don’t…” the side stammered, as his panic grew and his heartbeat accelerated. “I… I’m sorry. Plea- please don’t…”

He cut himself off before he could finish the thought. His pleas would not be heard anyways. There was no point in trying anything; if Pride had an idea, he would go through with it.

“Please don’t what, Virgil?” the prideful side asked sharply. “Please, finish your sentences.”

“I don’t… know.” Virgil averted his eyes as he spoke. He couldn’t hold Pride’s gaze for any longer without feeling like he’d burst into tears – not that he didn’t feel like this when he looked down, but it made everything just a tad better.

“You don’t know?” Pride chuckled mockingly. “My, you really are useless, aren’t you?”

The prince released Virgil’s jaw from his grip and the anxious side dropped his head, looking at the ground as he waited for whatever the other would subject him to. He hated this so much. He hated the dark sides; he hated this place; he hated himself. But obviously, he couldn’t tell them any of that. They’d be angry. And his self-loathing they’d use against him. It was better to just stay silent and accept his fate; that would cause him the least pain – he hoped.

The next moment, a hand made harsh contact with Virgil’s cheek. His head snapped to the side as he vaguely registered the stinging in his cheek, but it was oddly numb. Just ignore it, he told himself. It would be over soon. Just don’t show any response.

Two hands grabbed his wrists in a tight grip and Virgil seemed to snap out of his trance, looking at the dark side in front of him with panic in his eyes. It was never good if they grabbed his wrists. It would never lead to good things. Pride was taking him somewhere else so he could hurt him more, he didn’t want to go he didn’t want to get hurt he didn’t want to be here he didn’t want to- he didn’t want to- he wanted to leave why couldn’t he leave why wouldn’t they let him leave?

In his panic, Virgil tried to pull his wrists out of Pride’s grasp. He knew he wouldn’t succeed; the other side was much stronger than he would ever be, but at the moment, he didn’t care, he didn’t register this. All he cared about, was releasing himself from Pride’s iron grip and run. He didn’t know where to run; the other sides never let him go to the other side of the mindscape, where the lighter sides resided, but he could think of something later. Maybe he could go to the light side without them noticing. Maybe he could sneak out.

Pride sighed, hardly impressed by Virgil’s pathetic attempts to escape and held the side’s two wrists in one hand, leaving his other hand free to grab a handful of his hair to hold his head in place. Virgil quickly stopped his struggling and looked at Pride, his eyes filled with fear.

“Listen up, Anxiety,” the dark side spat, “I am going to give you a choice here, okay? You either cooperate and I will be easy on you, or you don’t and you’re going to have a bad time. Is that clear?”

Virgil nodded, not trusting his voice at this moment. His heart was going faster than before and breathing started to become painfully difficult. He didn’t know where Pride was taking him, and to be fair, he would be fine with never finding out. But he knew he had no choice. He was outnumbered. He had nowhere to run. He was no match for the side before him. Had had no choice.

So he nodded and followed the other side, ceasing his protests.

 And now he was in the dark. He hated the dark. Nothing good could ever come from the dark. Deceit always played tricks on him. Made him see things that weren’t there because he thought it was ‘funny’ to see Virgil’s frightened reactions.

He was trapped in a closet in the common rooms, hardly big enough for him to stand. He felt the sides of the closet pushing against his shoulders, constantly reminding him of the small space he had been trapped in. Reminding him of the fact that he had been trapped. He wanted to get out. He hated the dark. He hated small spaces. He hated being trapped. He hated this.

Virgil had no idea how long he had been there. Occasionally, he would hear the voices of the dark sides passing by and sometimes, he’d try to ask them to let him out. But they never did. They never listened. The anxious side buried his face in his knees, softly sobbing and praying to be let out soon.

 By the time the door finally opened, Virgil’s limbs were numb and stiff. The lights from the common room blinded him for a second, but when he was used to them, he carefully got out of the closet, fearing there would be another trap waiting for him. But, to his surprise, he found nothing.

When he stepped out of the closet, he remained seated on the floor for a bit, his legs too numb to carry his weight for now. Pride stood next to the closet, eyeing Virgil with a raised eyebrow.

Feeling his burning gaze, Virgil looked up to the side for a second before averting his eyes again.

“Thank you,” he muttered softly, knowing that was what the other was waiting for. His voice was hoarse from the crying and yelling from the past few hours. His throat hurt, and a hand absentmindedly shot up to massage his throat – as if that would ease the pain in any way.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Pride asked with a smirk. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Thank you,” Virgil repeated, a little louder this time. Pride nodded, satisfied with the answer and turned around without a word, leaving Virgil behind.

 All in all it’s just another brick in the wall