#but I doubt that particular thing is gonna be much of an influence here is it XD

[beardedhandstoadshark]

I've never owned a DS before and I'm really interested in purchasing one but I have no idea which one I should go with. I know there's the regular, the 3ds and the XL, so which one would you recommend?

Depends on your preference! I‘m gonna go a bit into detail here so you know what you’re buying, and there’s a TLDR in bold at the bottom, but if it’s still too muddled please don’t hesitate to ask!

Also, disclaimer, whenever I talk about pricing it’s from my own perspective, so for all we know, I could buy something super cheap that’s really expensive for you and vise versa, so it’s better to check it for yourself still.

For starters, there‘s quite a lot of different versions of the console, with the og DS and 3DS even counting as their two separate lines.

Generally speaking I’d say go with a 3DS, as they can also play every DS game on top of their own (which doesn’t work the other way around) and the hardware’s only half as old, so it’s less likely to die on you in the near future. However that makes them more expensive, too.

XL just means bigger screen/console. It’s just like when a phone comes out in regular and big size. For some folks the added space is too much to properly hold it anymore, for others the regular size is too small to do anything. Depends on your preference. For comparison:

The DSi and New 3DS are both kinda like "upgraded“ versions of the DS/3DS, respectively.

Left is a DSi, right is a New 3DS XL. They both have the same sizes as their normal counterparts, so the size comparison still works. (Ignore the low screen light on the DSi, I just didn’t bother changing it back lol. On Max brightness they‘re the same.)

If you don’t plan on playing any Gameboy Advance games, absolutely go with a DSi instead of a regular DS. They go for the same price (at least here) but the DSi has better hardware and way more functions, while being way less of a brick compared to the og DS. Apparently the max screen brightness is also higher than the og? Idk tho.

Theres also the DS lite, which is a DS that looks like a DSi, but again. Same price, might as well go with the upgrade. In any case, they’re also both harder to accidentally snap in two than the og model lol.

The New 3DS only has better hardware but no new software compared to the regular 3DS. But it’s got extra buttons! Very rarely used, but they exist. It’s kinda like 60 fps vs 30 fps, if that makes sense? The hardware difference is noticeable especially right after you switch, but you can also live without it, and sometimes it doesn’t make that big of a difference.

Like, if I play Hyrule Warriors, the regular 3DS is barely holding it together on 20fps and can’t even do 3D while the New one‘s playing pretty smooth and lets you play with 3D. And only THEN does the N3DS goes down on the same level as the regular 3DS because it’s essentially playing the game in double for the 3D effect to work. Meanwhile Mario Bros 2 plays the exact same on both of them.

What you could also do, is get a 2DS. It’s like a 3DS, but in 2D. All the features of a 3DS except for the whole 3D gimmick, so it’s basically like the Switch Lite. You also can’t fold it like the other ones, unless you get a New 2DS XL, which is foldable again, but that ones‘ price range is all over the place. The normal 2DS seems to sell generally cheaper than all the other 3DS consoles, at least.

TLDR: your options are a

DS

DS Lite

DSi

DSi XL

For the regular DS line, and for the 3DS line a

3DS

3DS XL

New 3DS

New 3DS XL

2DS

New 2DS XL

If you only have under 100 bucks or don’t care about 3DS games,I‘d say go with one of the DSi. All consoles of the DS go for more or less the same price, and it’s got the best hardware and features of them.

If you’ve got extra pocket change, go with any of the 3DS consoles instead, as there’s just more games for it on top of a better hardware and less age. Your cheapest option is a 2DS, but a regular 3DS isn’t that far off either. They might even go for the same price, if you’re lucky? If you wanna, you can go also with a New 3DS if it’s a lot of pocket change.

And if you vibe with a bigger screen, take the XL version of whatever line you chose! Except for the 2DS XL, somehow its 3D counterpart is cheaper than the 2D XL again.

Also, ALL of these consoles come in multiple colors!

TLDRTDLR: DSi for price or any of the 3DS line for more games, imo

…and if you get any of them and the shoulder buttons are broken, that’s completely normal. You can drop them 100 times and the console is fine, but play Mario Kart too often and the shoulder buttons stop working lmao.

[pyroy3]

Compiling additional proof against Wilbur into one, easy to understand list.

I'm making a simple list that anyone can refer to when faced with doubts about Shelby's and other victims claims. I don't know if this will reach the right audience, or reach anyone at all, but i'd like to get it off my chest.

Why do I care so much? Because i've followed Wilbur since his day on the Jacksucksatlife channel. He had a great influence over me as a teenager, and it sucks that he was an asshole all along. I want to see him fail, that's all.

Main points are all in Shelby, Nikki, Minx and other creators' videos on him. These are just small details that are easily missed.

Wilbur being abusive towards his friends

The first video in particular really highlights the amount of power that Wilbur holds. "Tell them about how awful I am to you" seems like a dangerous thing to say as someone who is actually abusive, but it's likely that he knows he can get away with it. He doesn't expect anyone to call him out on his behaviour.

The other problem I have with this clip aside from the taunting, is the vacuum cleaner. He asks her to tell the people watching about her experience, and immediately starts vacuuming for no reason which drowns out the noise of her speaking. Feel free to tell me i'm looking into this too much, but this is how I feel about it: It's him (knowingly or unknowingly) showing off his power. Showing that he's in control even when she's talking about the biting, creating an understanding that it's not a serious issue and that it's just a joke. His humour makes the audience laugh along at an issue that we now understand wasn't funny.

A clip talking about how Wilbur threw Niki because she playfully said she was big and strong. His quick sentence "you were saying you were stronger than-" could either be him misremembering, deciding to ignore that detail, or literally saying that he interpreted her actions as claiming to be stronger than him. He says it was a "consensual throwing" but we already know how terrible he is with consent. TLDW: Niki said she was big and strong so Wilbur threw her "to assert dominance" (and show that he was stronger than her).

Niki has confirmed that she "knew wilbur in that way", but aside from mentioning the biting habit, she doesn't want to talk about it. She just said that that period was a dark time in her life. No one should ask her to talk more about this (or even bring it up around her), but it is unfortunately possible that she carries even more horrible experiences about Will with her.

In Tommy's disneyland vlog, there is a short clip where Tommy playfully unties Wilbur's shoelaces and gets his hand stomped on. Thing like these flew under the radar because of their brotherly bond. You'd expect two young brothers to react like this, but not a grown man and his teenage friend. Tommy tells him that his finger got cut, and instead of apologizing, Wilbur says it was because Tommy was gonna untie his shoelaces. He essentially says that Tommy had it coming, that it was his fault he got hurt.

The biting behaviour wasn't exclusive to romantic partners. This is a clip of him biting Tommy's hand "for content", despite Tommy repeatedly shouting no. The biting isn't bad here, but it once again proves that this was something he genuinely did.

The story starts at 0:38. Here, Wilbur tells the story of how he helped Techno pick apples by gently throwing them so Techno could put them in the basket. Techno says that Wilbur is very bad at throwing. In response, Wilbur says that he threw an apple as hard as he could, aiming for his stomach. Instead, he accidentally hit the shoulder that his surgery was on. Anyone who's been hit in the stomach should know how painful it is. If Wilbur were to throw an apple has hard as he could at his stomach, it would seriously hurt. But he laughs it off. Wilbur once again claims that the person he hurt deserved it, because techno made fun of his throwing ability. I've heard that Techno's dad yelled at Wilbur for doing it, but even then, he still laughs about the story.

Wilbur's music and separating it from the artist

It's completely natural for a musician with a history of bad mental health to blame himself in his music. One of Wilbur's biggest inspirations, Crywank, have lots of songs about being a bad person. A symptom of depression is to believe you're a bad person. But as far as we know, Wilbur's music actually told the truth.

I can't find the tweet, but we also know that one of wilburs old friends(?) came out with the info that Lovejoy's song "concrete" was based on their experience, and the song explains Wilbur's neglectful behaviour.

You should know what Lovejoy's music is about. A lot of it is based on toxic relationships, being cheated on, being abused. It is a complete mockery of the people that he hurt. "Call me what you like" is clearly about being in an abusive relationship where his partner takes advantage of him and cheats on him. She forces him to "bump his head into every doorway she sees suitable for them to go through". Not that he knows what the song he wrote is about though, since he couldn't recall a single thing about the song during the genius interview. Yes, he was high, but he may as well had someone ghostwrite it for him.

Singing "you claim your ex-boyfriend's a policeman, I say you need better standards" in the song Perfume is crazy when his standards are allowing abuse to happen.

When listening to Scum, you repeatedly hear him admitting to being scum and waste. Concrete is about how he's a piece of shit. Consequences should remind you of the actual consequences of his actions. I already explained what's wrong with "your sister was right". His parody songs are direct reflections of his real personality.

However, if you still want to listen to him - spotify has a feature where you can put local files into your playlists. If you have his music downloaded, you can listen to it on spotify without giving him money or views. Just saying.

Why he can get away with it

Look at him. He is an attractive white man in the UK, And pretty privilege is a thing, no matter how you look at it. He's popular and has gotten empathy from impressionable teenagers on the internet. A lot of people have put him on a pedestal after he showed support for the LGBT+ community and BLM, singing about being against capitalism. People feel bad for him because of his history with mental health problems. They excuse his actions because he was depressed during his relationships. He also has a pattern of exclusively targeting those weaker than him. Tiny women who he can pin down, throw or bite to show he's stronger than, and teenager Tommy who believed they had a brother dynamic. You will also notice that the only people who have shared their experience with him have been women who didn’t feel strong enough to fight back against him. He is a manipulator through and through.

This is not all the proof there is

If you need more convincing, watch other creator's videos and statements on the subject. Shelby, Niki, Minx, Alicenyannya. There are also more small things that he has done that add up, either violent behaviour, yelling, or ignoring people's boundaries.

You can keep uselessly arguing about why he acted this way, but the physical abuse is undeniable, and I hope that the other points in this post has shown his disrespect for consent (ignoring people saying no), manipulative behaviour (victim blaming, making it seem like a joke) and lack of care for the consequences of his actions (stomping on tommy's hand, throwing an apple as hard as he can at techno, throwing niki, biting his girlfriends).

Thank you to anyone who got this far, I hope someone will get use out of it. I'm happy to finally get what I wanted to say out there.

[monkeyzilla]

CAN I RANT ABOUT KEN SATO??? AM I ALLOWED TO? BECAUSE I WILL. ALSO LMK IF I GET DETAILS WRONG!!! LMAO!! I watched the film like 4 times I don’t think I should have missed out on anything or gotten anything wrong but if I do let me know I’m not good at writing shit like this😭

I wanted to talk about the themes of “balancing” mixed cultural identity being kinda hinted at bc it’s something I immediately picked up as an Asian living in a western country. I’m not even gonna say it’s an “interpretation” because I feel like it was quite obviously hinted at would be pretty easy to pick up for anyone that has a similar experience as mine.

In that first interview with Ami, Ken stated that people made fun of him for the way he looked, talked and behaved when he first moved to the US. Since he was born and raised in Japan for a bit, he kept most of that culture that he grew up suffered by with him and got alienated for being too Japanese or not white enough. It’s a really negative experience that I think most people, me included can relate to because you can’t control the fact that you have a particular ethnic background, or that you look a certain way.

But like I also think living in the US for a significant amount of time has also influenced the way he thinks and talks too, the press conference scene stands out with him repeatedly saying bro, as well as the baseball match where he got mocked and told that he should just “go back to America”. It’s kinda clear for most of the film that he’s “not Japanese” enough too.

It’s a difficult situation because on one hand he’s “too Japanese” in America but not “Japanese enough” in his home country. There’s this feeling that there’s no pleasing anyone here! So I believe to avoid having to “balance” his American and Japanese identity, he does things “his own way”. Or “giving the people something else to talk about” in his own words. At least that’s how I’ve interpreted it, idk if I’m stretching or yapping too much.

Him doing things the “Ken Sato” way is a kinda funny excuse for him to do whatever he wants, but I also think it’s just an excuse to avoid sticking to one “culture” (identity), because he can’t. Going back to the the first one-on-one interview with Ami, she points out that he’s eating noodles the “wrong way” and while it is just one single action, to me it seems representative of Ken’s behaviour as a whole when being confronted about tradition or culture. Am I wording that right? I’m not good at articulating complicated thoughts because I have A LOT!! It’s just difficult to type it out.

I just think the inclusion of all of these seemingly insignificant scenes makes Ken’s character seven more meaningful as a someone who’s Asian-Australian because I relate to it so much!! I just wanted to share my own thoughts and feelings about this movie and the little themes it hints at bc I don’t know any other big animated film that mentions this kinda experience😭 I’m not sure if Ken’s experience with his heritage/identity was intentional or not but it seems hinted at enough for it to be a purposeful inclusion, at least that’s how I see it.

I do wish they could’ve explored it a bit more in depth, maybe showing Ken’s life in America a lot more because I doubt they’d go back to it in the possible sequel, but I’m happy nonetheless because I feel really seen when I watch Kenji talk about his own experience. Sorry for yapping too much omfg

[crossdressingdeath]

You know, thinking about it, I was wrong before. Nico has more reason to trust Hades than Percy does Poseidon at the time of the incident in TLO!

If you think about it, Percy's only evidence that Nico should've known it was a trap is that "[Nico] know[s] what [Hades]'s like", but... Nico's view of Hades would be much different from Percy's. Remember, Nico has a room in the palace at this time; Hades couldn't send him to his room the way he does later if he didn't have a room to be sent to. He's been living there! Hades allows him to live there! At this point Nico doesn't know that Hades used to visit him, Maria and Bianca regularly or that he actively stepped in to protect Nico and Bianca from Zeus and keep them safe until the time of Titan's Curse, but he does know that Hades is letting him live in his palace. Gods don't do that. Percy has to nearly die to even get a brief visit to Poseidon's palace, and he very openly knows that Poseidon wouldn't have claimed him to begin with if he didn't need him. Not to mention Poseidon has that whole thing where he explicitly tells Percy he wishes he didn't exist, which... is the sort of thing that's gonna have a negative impact on how you view your dad.

So when Percy says that Nico knows what Hades is like, what he's saying is basically... "The Underworld is evil and Hades is evil, how could you not know that," which is kind of an incredibly shitty thing to say to the child of Hades living in the Underworld? I mean, it is kind of just "You shouldn't trust your father because I think he's evil and the Underworld is evil", if I was Nico I'd be very concerned about what Percy thought of me when he started spouting that shit. Anyway, while Hades is far from a good father at this point in the series Nico still knows him as the father who is letting him live in his palace because he has nowhere to go, stepping well outside the usual bounds of gods interacting with their kids in the process. Hell, unless I've forgotten something (possible), it's entirely possible that by this point in the timeline Hades has already told Nico about Camp Jupiter (which would show a huge amount of faith in him, again above and beyond any other godly parent). Hades can be kind of a dick because all gods are dicks to their kids, but Nico has no particular reason not to trust him! Especially given Nico has exactly zero other adults in his life offering him any support and at this point in the timeline he doesn't remember his mother, so Hades is basically all he's got and he has no points of comparison other than his also-a-child sister who kinda sorta abandoned him (not going into her reasoning here but it was A Thing that would probably influence the way Nico thought about... caregivers, I guess, for lack of a better term to describe the twelve year old put in charge of her little brother) and Minos (who is... Minos. Enough said). It makes sense that when Hades says "Do this small thing for me and I'll tell you about your mother" Nico believes him, because while Hades has been awful to Nico at times there's no evidence that he's ever lied to him. Why should Nico doubt his father who gave him a place to stay when he had nothing and no one just because that father happens to be Hades and the place to stay happens to be the Underworld?

...Also in hindsight knowing just how much Hades spoils Nico (for a godly parent at least) in the future makes the "You know what Hades is like" thing kind of hilarious. Ah yes, the guy who gives Nico a place to stay when he has nowhere to go despite gods Not Doing That, tells him at least some of the gods' most guarded secrets and essentially takes it on faith that he'll keep his mouth shut, lets him get away with breaking the law that the dead stay dead without even a slap on the wrist, promises him a place in the palace when he eventually dies (which may or may not imply that Hades intends to make Nico a god when he bites it, but it's certainly not normal procedure for Underworld kids), tells him to his face he deserves everything, and backs up that claim by fulfilling his wishes with no payment required or debt accrued just because Nico asked if Hades thinking he deserved everything meant he'd do so (because Nico is a little shit, we love to see it) despite Hades claiming that wasn't actually what he meant. Why would Nico trust that guy? (I know, I know, it's not proof of anything at this point because most of that hasn't happened yet. But it is funny how completely Percy's claim that Nico should distrust his dad is eventually proved wrong by Hades spoiling his kid rotten.)

[strange-destinations]

Kitty can I please request the Mysterious Benedict Society squad (all of them, not just the main four) as to ''who will survive castle dracula''?

(......I initially meant ''the Benedict twins and Rhonda and Number Two and Milligan and SQ'' when I said ''all of them,'' but ngl a hilarious bonus question is ''if the ten men got trapped there too what chaos would ensue'' so I'm gonna add that on as well XD)

sigh, here we go. @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula, tell me if you want me to stop tagging you.

Overall, I don't think many of the characters in the Mysterious Benedict Society series have a really huge belief in the supernatural regarding vampires and things that go bump in the night.... but then again, a lot of the plot revolves around a machine that influences everybody with subliminal psychic messages, and also there's a toddler who's inexplicably naturally psychic. And everyone pretty much takes all of this as 'a bit strange! But okay, I'll believe it!' So in general let's assume a baseline of, 'sure, vampires, why not' from the entire cast.

okay, let's go kids first. That's right, we're subjecting children to the horrors of Castle Dracula.

Reynie Muldoon - is very much a Jonathan Harker-like kid to start with, actually. May accept the crucifix out of politeness. Most likely to be able to hold Dracula's attention in conversation. I feel like Dracula is like Mr Curtain in a lot of respects, and the vibes between Reynie and him would be similar. Many tense, charged games of chess may occur. I believe in his ability to survive the psychological torment, because he's got a hell of a strong will, but I don't believe in his physical ability to escape. Either the GFs get him or Dracula himself does.

Kate Wetherall - would accept the crucifix, not out of any particular politeness or religious belief, but just because you never know when you might need a handy cross-shaped trinket! Into the bucket it goes! Least likely to hold Dracula's attention, she's way too ADHD and not really the sort of person who'd interest him apart from being an adrenaline-filled bloodbag. MOST likely to stage a daring escape using the contents of her bucket, which Dracula will not be able to steal or throw out the window because of the crucifix handily concealed within. Most likely of all the kids to survive this.

Sticky Washington - oh boy, Sticky. His encyclopedic knowledge of vampire lore will probably give him a bit of an edge... but not much. Sticky on-his-own isn't brave enough to go exploring/sneaking around extensively unless things get really dire. And Dracula himself would scare the shit out of Sticky to the point of near-nonresponsiveness, to the point where I don't think Sticky would seem that interesting to Drac after a while. Would a photographic memory and lots of vampire trivia help him survive? Probably, for a while. Would it help him escape? Probably not. Sticky's only sticking around in Castle Dracula for a little bit. Also Dracula would smash his glasses 'by accident' as a power play.

Constance Contraire - grumpy toddler showing up to Castle Dracula?Cool, it's basically vampire DoorDash! ...would be Dracula's first thought - before he realizes that she's psychic. Constance doesn't have a lot going for her, all things told. She's not particularly physically able, she's obstinate and stubborn and not a great conversationalist, I doubt she'd take the crucifix out of that same stubbornness, and also she'd compose some really unflattering slam poetry about Dracula, Dracula's castle, Dracula's girlfriends, etc etc etc. Escape isn't really an option here. It would all come down to a battle of wills between Dracula and Constance.... which I'm not sure Constance would win, on her own. Sorry, the baby's dying here without help.

To nobody's surprise, the Society would be able to survive Castle Dracula if they were all trapped in it together, and in fact that's an incredible fic idea that I don't have time or energy to write. However, on their own... they're just a bunch of kids. They're not going to do so great.

What about the others?

Mr Benedict - is most certainly accepting the crucifix, but his good luck ends there. Everything about Castle Dracula is designed to heighten anxiety and make your emotions go into overdrive. And it's definitely not a good place to go around falling asleep in random places because you get upset or overwhelmed. The moment Dracula twigs to the narcolepsy situation, Mr Benedict's pretty much fully screwed. The one thing that might save him is the fact that he's an incredibly intelligent and brilliant man, and Dracula might want to pick his brain a bit.

Mr Curtain - would most certainly NOT accept the crucifix, he's too proud for that. Assuming he somehow manages to get his wheelchair up the mountain - or going by TV!Curtain, where he doesn't have a wheelchair at all - he's immediately going to set about trying to strike up a business deal with Dracula to expand his global reach. Either the Count kills Curtain, or they make each other worse and everybody else is going to have a bad time. It's kind of up in the air on that one.

Number Two - has an incredible advantage over literally everyone else here in almost never needing to sleep. I don't think she's going to be especially happy about it, but having the full run of the castle during the daytime despite Dracula's best efforts (and, if we go by the TV show, being a completely unhinged force of destructive chaos) is going to mean that she'll probably manage to sneak out using an inventive and clever strategy.

Rhonda Kazembe - I can't think of anything that gives Rhonda more or less of an advantage than your average person - would probably take a similar approach to Number Two in escaping, with a bit more social skills re: talking to Dracula.

Milligan - doesn't need a crucifix. Beats up Dracula singlehandedly and throws him out a window because he left Kate down in the town and promised he'd be back for her. Does the same for the vampire GFs, no problem, not even a moment of hesitation. Rips up his own clothes to fashion a rope to climb down out of the castle, treks by foot all the way down the mountain. Rocks up to town several weeks later, heavily injured and looking awful but still alive.

SQ - there's no easy way to say this: SQ doesn't have anything at all going for him in this situation. He is, unfortunately, not particularly smart and not particularly agile. He's a great artist, but that's not helpful here. I think he's just a handy snack to Drac unless someone shows up to help him.

[mstarcreates]

Modus Operandi - Stake Out

A/N: For some context, in this AU Simon does not wear a full skull mask just a half balaclava with a skull print on it that covers from his nose down. The lines in this scene are a reference from the canon material, obviously lol.

****

"Twelve hour fuckin stake out..." John growled out, forcing the passenger seat back in their dispatch car almost violently.

"Easy there, J, this thing's an antique." Simon said from the driver's side, his gaze fixated on the house they were watching from down the street, tucked behind a bush. John rolled his eyes at the comment. He had neither the patience nor the fucks to give about paperwork surrounding their ancient police issued vehicle.

"Not my problem they skimped on the funding for the homicide unit.." he stretched his legs out at least, but it didn't help as much as he'd hoped it would. For weeks his canine side had been on edge, and it was always worse around Simon. He hadn't felt it under his skin like this since he was a boy, before he knew how to work with his animal.

He wasn't shifting enough, he knew that. Since he'd joined Homicide he just no longer had the time. And the various ways his superior grated against him, be it physical or otherwise, only amped up the canine inside him.

"Yer gonna owe me for this.." he said as he dug into the bag of fast food they'd grabbed on the way here. The burger for him was just barely warm now but he didn't care, he needed the substance it promised. It was his only hope of quelling his animal before shit went sideways.

"Yeah, owe you for what?" Simon replied, barely sparing him a glance from across the car. The brief gaze was enough to make John's heart race a bit. Even with his night vision, it was hard to make out all of Simon's features with only a street lamp a few feet in front of the vehicle for light. Still John found himself analyzing every feature of Simon's face.

"We're fixin each other's problems.." he replied casually as he bit into the hamburger, groaning softly. Finally, something to ease the unruly mutt that lived inside him. Sure food was only a temporary fix for what the canine actually needed but John would take whatever reprieve he could get.

"What's my problem..?" This time Simon turned to him, quirking one of his blonde eyebrows at John before he turned his eyes back to the house, determined not to miss even a second of the nothingness that was going on.

"Well that bloody mask you're wearing, that's for sure...just take it off.."

"You mean show my face?"

"Yessir." He answered as he took another bite of his food, reaching forward to grab his soda, still watching his superior as he ate, curious to see how far he could push this particular conversation.

"Not a chance.." Simon replied casually, not even looking at John this time as he stared at the house. John supposed it was a good thing that one of them was paying attention to their current objective.

"Are you ugly...?"John quipped this time as he polished off the rest of his hamburger, crumpling up the paper before tossing it into the bag. He wasn't sure why he was so damn brazen tonight, maybe it was the canine's influence on his mood. He thought he might have pushed it too far until Simon turned towards him.

"Quite the opposite actually.." Simon's eyes were full of mirth and dark promises and it made a flush creep up John's neck and face. He was very thankful indeed for the lack of light in the vehicle.

"I doubt that." But John didn't miss a bit, smiling wickedly at Simon. The other man shook his head and returned to watching the house.

[azureflamesideblog]

JUST finished reading Azula In The Spirit Temple and I actually LOVED it. Not kidding, I am so glad I went in with the expectations I did...cause I actually got MORE than what I was hoping for. At least, that is my opinion.

Gonna do bullet list of thoughts. Easier to do and quicker. Probabbly part one of several cause I doubt I am releasing all the things I have going on in my head in one go.

-The BIGGEST thing that I think mattered to me and that I liked is it seemed Azula is actually on some level aware of Ozai's negitive influence on her. She says directly to Ursa even that she was supposed to protect her from him, and that if she didn't make the choice she did she could have done that. Now just as often she says her father is the Phoenix King...not a tradior yada yada...but the idea is there. SHE says it to the vision of Ursa.

-Going off of that. Yes Azula seems very, back and forth and uncertin about a lot of things, in particular what she wants and how she feels about several characters. And I LIKE that. That's what she NEEDED. Something, anything to put the idea in her head that she isn't to far gone and can change her future. It doesn't matter really that she rejects that at this point- the stuff she heard and felt still exsist and WILL continue to linger. Hopefully allowing future Avatar stuff to pick it up and run with that.

-So, the main idea seems to be Azula wants to be apologized to for the things others have done to her but ISN'T ready to return that with any apologies of her own. Mainly because of the way she views those things as well. But that doesn't seem to stop her from WANTING to be loved by those she cares about, or from wanting them to be proud of her.

-I've seen some readers either mention feeling this book didn't take a stand really on Azula's redemption, or was seemingly overly harsh on her. I will respectfully disagree. While reading, it was actually pleasntly shocked to feel that this was a balanced and pretty fair look at Azula. Yes, she has done horrible hurtful things, but at the same time she has had horrible hurtful things happen to her as well. She needs to apologize, to take the first step if she wants things to be better, but that doesn't mean she isn't owed an apology from others as well.

-The thing I like most about the set up is honestly the fact Azula almost from the beginning knows none of what she is seeing is real. That actually is why it feels fitting there are several moments where she gets honest. I don't think, at the point this story BEGINS she'd be able to do that with the real version of any of these characters

-That said, next step is her...actually confronting these characters (Ursa, Zuko and Ty Lee spesifically). Whenever they do pick up Azula again, which seems to be what they are allowing for, she kinda needs to take what she's working through/concluded here and bring it to them to progress things.

-Also, can't say how OVERJOYED I am for this comic to kinda say 'ya know that Smoke and Shadow stuff? Yea that silly nonsense? Forget about that, THIS is her goal again'.

-The love I have for the fire warriors despite how little we get to see them ever, and how we will likely will never touch on them again is HUGE.

-Now...I've always been neutral on Ursa. I kinda feel yes, she didn't love Azula enough, but she also wasn't set up to love Azula as much as she should have with Ozai looming. And I actually am glad the comics DIDN'T seem to entirely erase URSA'S side of this story that was explored in The Search (as aweful as those comics are). The look on Ursa's face in the real part of the flashback, the one that is just looking at her daughters future as she is being taken in by Ozai...the terror is palpable. To the point even AZULA says she isn't sure if she was scared FOR her or BY her. And that is GREAT because yes, that is very clearly the case. That alone has me actually loveing and wanting more Ursa. She loved her daughter, and was so worried for her and to a young little girl it WOULD read as being afraid OF her.

-Noting here that while it seemed Ty Lee may have gotten more time to actually converse with Azula, I'm gonna say the important stuff was actually with Ursa and less so Mai. Ty Lee and what see says seems to just be meant to poke the bear, while Mai works (ironically enough) like a knife to confront her directly. While Ursa is a gentler attempt at getting through, and meant to be an outlet for Azula to be comfortable being honest. That's why it's her who Azula tells the two big, majior things to. That she feels Ozai is a bad influance and Ursa should have protected her, and that on some level she knows Ursa was scared for her, not of her.

-Also, TWICE Azula LET'S Ursa hold her and man that melts me in ways I did not expect to be melted

-I find it interesting that it's Zuko who she talks with the least, and him who kinda delivers the final question. I almost think Azula doesn't really know exactly how her brother feels? And thus the visions couldn't really pull a thread for him to say like the others. If that makes any sense, I hope it does.

-The final form of the moster bug creature? Nightmare fuel thanks I won't sleep ever again.

-THE LAST FEW PAGES! I was actually NOT expecting that, and am so glad we get to see something changed. What happened def did shake something in her, enough to make her change her mind about something she had fallen asleep uttering that she would do. Yes, I understand being disappointed the change wasn't bigger or more significant, but it IS there. And I'd be far more dissapointed had she fully accepted the offer, cause it would have been WAY WAY to fast.

[hanakosimp08]

ℍ𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕜𝕠'𝕤 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕚𝕕𝕖 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙

As much as I love Hanako, and as much as others love him, we often seem to overlook his darker side. (Don’t get me wrong tho, I’m obsessed with his dark side too 😭😂). So let’s talk about it. (Btw this is gonna kinda be a long one) (I’m just gonna post different posts cause it’s gonna be too long if I try to include it all in here)

𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓜𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓢𝓲𝓭𝓮

Hanako can sometimes manipulate others, especially Nene, to achieve his objectives. This includes not fully explaining the consequences of certain actions or keeping secrets that could put others in danger.

One clear example of this is how he often keeps vital information from Yashiro. He tends to guide her actions according to his plans, keeping her in the dark about the potential dangers or consequences. This lack of transparency can be seen as a manipulative tactic, as he is controlling the situation to his advantage. Another example is how he initially tricks Nene into becoming his assistant. He uses her desperation to have her crush return her feelings, and manipulates the situation so that she is bound to him as his assistant.

He also gaslights. Hanako may distort or deny reality to make someone doubt their own perceptions, memories, or sanity. This can be used to confuse and manipulate individuals, making them more susceptible to his influence. An example of this, is how he attempts to gaslight Yashiro during the Picture Perfect arc.

Hanako is highly perceptive and observant. He pays close attention to people's behavior, emotions, and insecurities, enabling him to identify their weaknesses. Hanako’s observant nature allows him to gather information and understand the motivations, fears, and desires of those around him. He then uses this knowledge strategically to manipulate others.

One way he utilizes his observational skills is by identifying individuals' vulnerabilities. For instance, he may notice someone's insecurities, past traumas, or unfulfilled desires, and use that information to manipulate their actions or emotions. By exploiting these weaknesses, he can steer individuals towards a particular course of action or manipulate their emotions to achieve his goals.

Hanako-kun also pays close attention to people's reactions and body language. He can deduce how someone may respond to certain stimuli or situations, and use that knowledge to manipulate their behavior. By predicting their actions, he can manipulate the outcome of a situation to his advantage.

Furthermore, Hanako-kun's observational skills allow him to gather information and keep secrets. He often holds back crucial information or selectively reveals it to manipulate others. By controlling the flow of information, he can influence how others perceive a situation or make decisions that align with his desires.

Hanako carefully plans his actions to exploit others. He assesses the situation and uses his knowledge of their weaknesses to devise a plan that will yield the desired outcome.

Hanako’s charm and persuasion are additional tools he uses to manipulate others.

One way he employs his charm is by presenting himself as a friendly and charismatic individual. He often uses humor and wit to win people over and create a sense of trust. This charm allows him to gain the cooperation and support of others, making it easier for him to manipulate them towards his desired outcomes.

In addition to charm, Hanako-kun is skilled at persuasion. He knows how to present his arguments in a convincing manner, appealing to the emotions and logic of those he wishes to manipulate. By using logical reasoning, emotional appeals, or even flattery, he can sway others to see things from his perspective or take actions that align with his goals.

Furthermore, Hanako-kun is adept at manipulating people's perceptions. He often presents himself in a certain way or crafts narratives that make others view him as trustworthy or reliable. This allows him to influence how others perceive him and the situations they find themselves in, furthering his ability to manipulate their actions.

And last, but not least, he uses his knowledge of the spirit realm to manipulate others. Because he is knowledgeable about the spirit realm, in certain situations where a normal human doesn’t know what they’re doing when it comes to the supernatural, they will often rely or trust what he says. Which gives him an advantage and allows him to manipulate the person.

[witchy-rook]

Please ramble more about the Treacle Mine revolution!

Thank you for asking! I'd be happy to!

But before I start, just for your convenience and anyone else's, I'm gonna link my answers to the two previous questions I got because it's become somewhat difficult to find them. Anyway, as always: spoilers ahead for Discworld generally but the Guards series in particular!

Now then, the Treacle Mine Revolution...What a revolution! Pratchett has a phenomenal capacity to capture what Revolutions actually feel like and how they progress, at least in my experience reading historical sources about them. Although I have no doubt that, to a certain extent, Pratchett is drawing on British history for much of the foundations of Ankh-Morpork's own history, with some Classical elements thrown in there for good measure, I think from the point of view of the city's Revolutionary History, we need look no further than the most famous (and infamous) of revolutionary lands: Revolutionary France.

Specifically, if you look at the history of Ankh-Morpork's various revolutions, I think you see a sort pastiche (if you will) for France's own myriad revolutions. There's a lot more going on in these books than a simple ripping of French history (nor is French history even the only history they're ripping!), but I think it's worth diving into the real-world comparisions clearly at play here.

Let's roll back to Feet of Clay for a second. In this book, we learn a lot about Vimes' lineage, and specifically the baggage he has inherited from 'Old Stoneface' Vimes. We learn that Old Stoneface was involved heavily in the revolution which ended the line of Ankh-Morpork's kings (certain present members of the Guards perhaps notwithstanding), and not only that, but Old Stoneface was the man that swung the axe that killed the King.

Now, I don't think it would be too much of a reach to compare this to the first French Revolution: the one of 1789 and the eventual beheading of Kings. Granted, the French Revolution is by no means the only time that Kings were beheaded, but I think it's notable for our Ankh-Morpork comparision because it was one of the first times that was done to put a kind of democratic system in place. I'd argue that the Patrician seems like more an oligarch than a president or prime minister, but I think this is also because, amongst its many influences, Ankh-Morpork and its neighbouring cities on the Sto plains are clearly vibing off the medieval Italian city states. Hell, one is even called Genua.

Anyway, with that context in mind, let's fast forward back to Night Watch. The thing you'll need to bear in mind about the first French Revolution (and the reason I brought it up at all), is that its status as a 'Triumph of the People!' and a victory for 'universal liberty' etc etc is actually quite disputed. You have to remember that, initially, all the Revolution did when they stormed the Bastille and what not is, essentially, apply a Constitution to the King - now this was still pretty avant-garde by the standards of European politics, but the British already had a Constitution, so it wasn't exactly wholly novel. Things moved in an increasingly republican direction in subsequent years, capping off in 1793 with the literal capping off of King Louis, but the legacy of the French Revolution was always rather up for debate, especially given that it ended with Napoleon, a self-styled Emperor. So if you're wondering why France saw countless revolutions thereafter, it was because, from a republican/radical perspective, it was a project that had never really 'properly' finished. Whether France should be a republic or a kingdom was something that was up for debate constantly throughout the 19th century.

Enter: the Paris Commune. I don't have the time or, frankly, the qualifications, to dive fully into the Paris Commune, because it's a little outside my time period, but suffice it to say that this event is part of the long legacy of French revolutionary politics stretching back to the first Revolution and, to some extent, the birthplace of modern socialism. As I mentioned in one of my other posts, it's probably the thing you think of when you imagine an urban revolution at all. Barricades along the streets with flags and banners flying? The Paris Commune wasn't the only one to do that, but it sure was one of the most famous.

And I think the parallels with the Treacle Mine Road Republic are very stark (I bet you thought this was just another historical tanget!) We only get a patchwork knowledge of what happened during the Treacle Mine Revolution the first time around, mainly from Vimes' attempts to pre-empt what he remembers from the history, but that's enough to build a pretty clear picture. We know that the Revolution started in response to rioting and military massacres elsewhere in the city; we know that the People barricaded Treacle Mine Road and its adjacent streets to protect themselves; we know that the military attempted both a kind of siege and an attack on the barricades; we know there was a kind of sense of community amongst those inside the barricades.

To me, this reads like a very clear analogue for events in Paris during the Commune. Granted, the reasons for the Commune were different, and the real Paris Commune last over 2 months, but the kind of 'city within a city' that is depicted in Night Watch did happen, and while I'm sure the Paris Commune is not the only example of this, it's a pretty damn good analogue.

And again, what's most interesting to me about the Treacle Mine Revolution, as I alluded to in my other post, is that, much like the Paris Commune, it was a failure. It was not the actions of the revolutionaries that led to change in Ankh-Morpork, it was the actions of political conspirators and hired assassins. But despite this, the revolution is clearly important in the minds of at least some Ankh-Morporkians, even if it's mainly just those who were involved. Perhaps some of them, like their own real-world counterparts, consider this a project that has still not 'properly' finished? Nonetheless, this sense of importance is true of many political events in our world, the Paris Commune among them: they may have been failures, but that doesn't mean they weren't significant.

So! To wrap up with some kind of conclusion, I think the Guards series frequently touches on the idea of historical legacies, but Night Watch is especially interesting because, through Vimes, we get to live through the formation of that legacy. And, if you were ever interested in reading more about this kind of thing, I'd highly recommend you look no further than France and its colourful, revolutionary history!

[lucirent]

what are some things you enjoy about 814 :) and maybe some fanned fiction recs if you've got em

omg anon where did u come from....

first of all everything that had to be said has already been said here + anything else i could say is also influenced by k. that's mandatory reading to understand any of this. but i will say more anyway.

i like 814 because i like oscar (which is because i rate him and find him likeable and endearing and it is fun to like people who you think are going to win in some sense!), and i like interesting tensiony team dynamics. when the season started i was so unthrilled by the landoscar Content because i was convinced oscar was boring (even though i wanted to like him) and lando both saw that he was boring and was pity-engaging with oscar, partly because he thought oscar was a nice guy and deserved the pity-engagement, and partly because he had to for the Sponsors. there was this sense... i had this sense that lando was "fun" and oscar was "straightlaced" and so they were incompatible, because lando would always think oscar was just Not his type of person, which is fine you know! at this point of the szn oscar was also getting dominated by lando in quali (see summer break stats - aside from lando making mistakes while those are somewhat reflective of your skills they're not representative of your capabilities on the average day, and lando is generally quite consistent otherwise) so there was nothing* oscar had on him besides being more booksmart (*this is an exaggeration for effect)

i think that mistaken perception (that i had and that i imagine lando had) is what set them up for an interesting dynamic where in a reversal of expectations oscar can and does call lando out on his bs instead of being a doormat. even when they're joking around they have BANTER and that's what i really love out of a pairing. there's a sense of equality there when you can both dish it out and take it, and dishing it out itself is so Satisfying to me personally, intellectually. they Like and Respect each other enough to praise each other when warranted and make fun of each other when they get the opportunity. and to top it off they both deliver in terms of performance, obviously with the caveats that oscar is less experienced and has to be given the benefit of the doubt in regards to his potential. but every weekend i scream when lando goes on team radio to remind the pit wall that he's faster than oscar even when he's behind - because there is a real fight between them with real stakes in driver image/confidence/prioritization/team long-term strategy, all based on how well they do this year relative to each other. i love it so much!

all that is that but the reason i'm actually insane about them is that transparent t-shirt moment where lando says something truly unhinged SO awkwardly because tinhat he's insane about oscar. oscar's "will you" and "that's a lie" in that video, the tone omg. the goggle games never-ending competition. lando telling oscar to shut up. oscar being able to get under his skin. lando strangely gifting oscar easy wins at the end of their mclaren tiktok games. the sponsored video, the concept of which was making lando and oscar stare at each other the entire time and Perceiving each other. lando telling the viewers of his karting vlog OSCAR HAS BEEN TESTING. OSCAR HAS BEEN A LITTLE SNAKE. why do they talk like this about each other. why does oscar look at lando like that "that's just how he is" yes but it's very deceptive!!!!! the line between fiction and interpreted reality is there but if i were to put a pathetic filter on lando it would look like this

i'm not gonna lie i haven't scoped out the 814 tag because i just wait for k to tell me if there's anything good. i haven't really resonated with anything so far because i am really particular about the believability of explicitly romantic/sexual relationships between characters when one or both of them are in a public r/s (in that i don't like it when "canon" fic ignores reality) ... but i'll link k's response here (EDIT: I SKIMMED SOME OF THESE THEY ARE WELL WRITTEN)

[britneyshakespeare]

So yesterday I read "Slimed with Gravy, Ringed by Drink" by Camille Ralphs, an article from the Poetry Foundation on the publication of the First Folio in 1623, a major work without which most of Shakespeare's plays might very well have been lost today, possibly the most influential secular work of literature in the world, you know.

It's a good article overall on the history and mysteries of the Folio. Lots of interesting stuff in there including how Shakespeare has been adapted, the state of many surviving Folios, theories of its accuracy to the text, a really interesting identification of John Milton's own copy currently in the Free Library of Philadelphia, and the fascinating annotations that may have influenced Milton's own poetry!!! Do read it. It's not an atrociously long article but there's a lot of thought-provoking information in there.

There's one paragraph in particular I keep coming back to though, so I'm just gonna quote it down here:

...[T]he Play on Shakespeare series, published by ACMRS Press, the publications division of the Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies at Arizona State University... grew out of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s plan to “translate” Shakespeare for the current century, bills itself “a new First Folio for a new era.” The 39 newly-commissioned versions of Shakespeare’s plays were written primarily by contemporary dramatists, who were asked to follow the reasonable principle laid out by series editor Lue Douthit: tamper in the name of clarification but submit to “do no harm.” The project was inspired by something the linguist John McWhorter wrote in 1998: “[the] irony today is that the Russians, the French, and other people in foreign countries possess Shakespeare to a much greater extent than we do … [because] they get to enjoy Shakespeare in the language they speak.”

Mainly it's the John McWhorter thing I keep coming back to. Side note: any of my non-native-English-speaking mutuals who have read Shakespeare, I would love to know your experiences. If you have read him in translation, or in the original English, or a mix of both. It's something I do wonder about! Even as an Anglophone reader, I find my experience varies so much just based on which edition of the text I'm reading and how it's presented. There's just so much variety in how to read literature and I would love to know what forces have shaped your own relationships to the stories. But anyway...

The article then goes on to talk about how the anachronistic language in Shakespeare will only fall more and more out of intelligibility for everyone because of how language evolves and yadda yadda yadda. I'm not going to say that that's wrong but I think it massively overlooks the history of the English language and how modern standard English became modern standard English.

First of all, is Shakespeare's language completely unintelligible to native English speakers today? No. Certain words and grammatical tenses have fallen out of use. Many words have shifted in meaning. But with context aiding a contemporary reader, there are very few lines in Shakespeare where the meaning can be said to be "unknown," and abundant lines that are perfectly comprehensible today. On the other hand, it's worth mentioning how many double entendres are well preserved in modern understanding. And additionally, things like archaic grammar and vocabulary are simply hurdles to get over. Once you get familiarized with your thees and thous, they're no longer likely to trip you up so much.

But it's also doubtful that 400 years from now, as the article suggests, our everyday language will be as hard to understand for twenty-fifth century English speakers to comprehend. The English language has significantly stabilized due to colonialism and the international adoption of English as a lingua franca. There are countless dialects within English, but what we consider to be standard international "correct" English will probably not change so radically, since it is so well and far established. The development and proliferation of modern English took a lot of blood and money from the rest of the world, the legacy of which can never be fully restored.

And this was just barely in sight by the time that Shakespeare died. This is why the language of the Elizabethans and Jacobeans is early-modern English. It forms the foundations of modern English, hence why it's mostly intelligible to speakers today, but there are still many antiquated figures within it. Early-modern English was more fluid and liberal. Spelling had not been standardized. Many regions of England still had slight variations in preferences for things like pronouns and verb conjugation. We see this even in works Shakespeare cowrote with the likes of Fletcher and Middleton, as the article points out. Shakespeare's vocabulary may not just reflect style and sentiment, but his Stratford background. His preferences could be deemed more "rustic" than many of his peers reared in London.

Features that make English more consistent now were not formalized yet. That's why Shakespeare sounds so "old." It's not just him being fancy. And there's also the fact that blank verse plays are an entirely neglected art nowadays. Regardless of the comprehensibility of the English, it's still strange for modern audiences uninitiated to Elizabethan literature to sit there and watch a King drop mad poetry about his feelings on stage by himself. The form and style of the entire genre is off.

But that, to me, is why we should read Shakespeare. We SHOULD be challenged. It very much IS within the grasp of a literate adult fluent in English to read one of his plays, in a modern edition with proper assistance and context. It is GOOD to be acquainted with something unfamiliar to us, but within our reach. I'm serious. I do not think I'm so much smarter than everyone else because I read Shakespeare. I don't just read the plain text as it was printed in the First Folio! The scholarship exists which has made Shakespeare accessible to me, and I take advantage of that access for my own pleasure.

This is to say that I disagree with the notion that Shakespeare is better suited to be enjoyed in foreign tongues. I think that's quite a complacent, modern American take. Not to say that the sentiment of McWhorter is wrong; I get what he's saying. And it's quite a beautiful thing that Shakespeare's plays are still so commonly staged, although arguably that comes from a false notion in our culture that Shakespeare is high literature worth preserving, at the expense of the rest of time and history. It is true that his body of work has such a high level of privilege in the so-called Western literary canon that either numerous other writers equally deserve, or no writer ever could possibly deserve.

The effort that goes into making Shakespeare's twenty-first century legacy, though, is a half-assed one. So much illustrious praise and deification of the individual and his works, and yet not as much to understanding the context of his time and place, of his influences, forms, and impacts on the eras which proceeded him. Shakespeare seems to exist in a vacuum with his archaic language, and we read it once or twice in high school when we're forced to, with prosaic translations on the adjoining page. This does not inspire a true appreciation in a culture for Shakespeare but it does reinforce a stereotype that he must be somehow important. It's this shallow stereotype that makes it seem in many minds today that it would be worth it to rip the precise language out of the text of a poet, and spit back out an equivalent "modern translation."

[raxistaicho]

Fantasy Invader rants about how much he hates Edelgard again

Aside from the way he states things that are clearly false, one of the strongest points that lead me to think FI tends to make his posts while under the influence of something is the utter spontaneity of them.

Many of his posts are just him repeating past points stream-of-consciousness style. These ones in particular lead me to suspect he was brooding about Edelgard or Dorothea or Claude before leaping to his keyboard to bat out another post to own them again. He’s certainly dedicated at it, I’ll give him that, he usually gets at least one post out every two days. I’d run out of ideas if I tried the same.

I agree, but I doubt it’s the same way you do.

Nobody’s claiming being a victim, in and of itself, would make her good. What makes her good is the better future she’s fighting for.

No, her route represents the bonds between people improving us as people. It’s the exact same message conveyed by Awakening and Fates. For as much as Edelgard haters cry that Crimson Flower is anathema to the rest of the series because you kill a tyrannical dragon, they don’t seem to know very well what the rest of the series stands for.

Only if you deadass listen to everything Dimitri says without a moment’s evaluation would you believe she ignores the pain her war is causing. Edelgard herself is fundamentally aware of what she’s doing.

Claude doesn’t become a villain in Hopes, either. The point about him being written “out of character” comes from dev interviews from Hopes where they said they took a different angle with writing Claude’s character arc to better convey how much of a schemer he was supposed to be in Houses. It would be out of character if Hopes Claude is supposed to be the same person as the end of VW Claude.

Hopes Claude is as out of character as Hopes Dimitri, which is to say, he isn’t. His haters are just angry he chose to defy Rhea openly in Hopes rather than subtly as he does in Houses.

See what I was talking about? He’s not arguing a point, he’s just angrily stating assertions.

Evidently she continues dancing to their tune even after killing them, if that makes any sense. Thales is playing 5D chess, don’t question him, worm.

Also, to take from a future post:

I’m pretty sure he was referring to Cornelia’s last words in CF, which is well-understood to be a mistranslation by now. But FI is nothing if not consistent in his wrongness.

Edelgard never ducks responsibility for the things she actually did (by which I mean not fucking Duscur...), nor is she an oppressive tyrant.

Yeah, I’m just gonna stop here, lol... I probably shouldn’t have done this post to begin with, but I’d rather not lose the work I already put into it. It’s just a frustrated rant by a hateful man who wishes the option to side with Edelgard doesn’t exist. It’s actually uncomfortable to read, much less respond to.

[woltourney]

ROUND 1 / SIDE B / POLL 7

K'pehli Tia / Sae'pheli'ehva (@hallowed-nebulae) v. U'zula (@mischiefmilly)

K'pehli Tia / Sae'pheli'ehva:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. K'pheli Tia or Sae'pheli'ehva (he has two names for worldbuilding reasons); he/they, but usually uses he/him.

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Miqo'te!

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Started as Dragoon and Scholar, did Bard, is now primarily Dark Knight or Atrologian. If in doubt, Astrologian.

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. Aether data center, on Faerie!

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. To sum up what would otherwise be a huge ramble: he is the vessel/reincarnation of an eons old god. He's chronically ill, has chronic pain, and gets attached to A'aba Tia, Aulie, and the other scions who all die in the waking sands incident. (He and Arenvalds are bros). He and his cousin Mehka trade on who's doing WoL things based on who's got the ability. K'pheli embarks on the crystal tower expedition with NOAH and falls head over heels for G'raha along the way. He has no strong feelings on being a hero, but does what he does because "I refuse to let Fate create more tragedies". In his free time he enjoys writing and trying to figure out how to lead Mor Dhona (the people all decided that the god should be the one in charge). He's a very self-indulgent self-inseet where I toss in a lot of worldbuilding that no one but me cares about. Also very important he has chronic aether sickness and chronic pain and simply refuses to die or go mad from said aether sickness. Rip to everyone else but they're different.

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. "It would make Raha happy to see me win. Also I was encouraged by my friends to do this, I didn't beat away my anxiety with a stick just to lose this competition."

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. As said before he's a very self-indulgent self-insert. He's bisexual, afab genderfluid, and has chronic pain and is chronically ill. Because I made him to play with divinity tropes, there's a religion that worships him! (G'raha started it because dramatic bisexual history nerd fell in love and decided if he's gonna love a god then everyone else should know that his god is a god. Because fun tropes and metaphors and such. Also worldbuilding potential.) He's called the Crystal God and he can expell excess aether as aether-filled crystals. Also he made a pact with a voidsent (a friend's oc) who eats his aether as well, so even though he's still got way too much aether for his body k'pheli has avoided death this far. He's just here to be bisexual and love G'raha a lot. As one does.

U'zula:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. U'zula, he/him

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Miqote

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. DRG through Stormblood, GNB afterwards

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. N/A

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. U'zula is a miqote from the U tribe - he leaves his tribe behind a short while before ARR begins to see more of the world. He became a hero through the story, and he enjoys it - in particular, he loves meeting little kids who recognize him and will always take the time to speak with them. He loves to cook and dance in his free time, and the Scions enjoy varying latin music, phrases (read: curse words), and dishes thanks to his influence.

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. Well, I should win because I'll host the best after-party you could hope for - good music, good food, and good people!! You wouldn't want to miss that, now would you?

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. He's more aggressive and brash in the early expansions, but has mellowed out by ShB and EW!!

[hungrydolphin91]

@v-voeux RIGHT so. This is gonna be MASSIVE spoilers for my ongoing post-game Zestiria fic Falling Awake, that one i started over a year ago that Nash made beautiful art of ;_; I still have plans to finish it someday, but currently I'm struggling because there's 11 characters I'm trying to juggle at the same time 😅 not to mention I haven't played zesty in a while, so some the scenes I'm trying to write feel a little stale or unfocused. I WILL come back to it though I SWEAR I wanna finish this story because this premise drives me insane hhhhh

I kinda lied in the fic tags calling it a berzesty crossover because it's much more Zestiria-focused than Berseria, set in zesty post-game in a world where humans can suddenly see both seraphim and hellions which causes lots of problems (not to plug my own work but I would recommend reading what's been posted so far, the text itself can do a much better job emotionally conveying the context than I can here). Mikleo in particular is struggling ('cause that's what we're here for, mikleo angst 😅) because their former group is falling apart over various issues, such as a lack of purification powers/Shepherd and whether it's ethical to kill hellions/dragons since basically no one has the ability to purify them anymore. Mikleo is lonely, desperate, and depressed, but he's still holding out for some kind of long-term solution to the malevolence hidden in the past, when humans and seraphim coexisted.

And while's he's researching he discovers the true nature of a powerful but long-forgotten Empyrean, Innominat, who has been sealed away inside the earthpulse. He takes the steps needed to free him, and is rewarded by being immediately devoured. RIP.

Except the twist is that he fucking planned this. I took the idea of Empyreans being influenced by the souls that are sacrificed to them and ran with it so Mikleo DELIBERATELY fed himself to a god in order to reincarnate as said god (kinda similar to his seraphic rebirth actually), and with the powers of an Empyrean he'd be able to cleanse the land's malevolence himself and Sorey could awaken.

EXCEPT it's not quite enough yet. Innominat is a forgotten Empyrean so no humans are giving him their prayers and therefore he is much weaker than he was in Berseria. So despite Meebominat devouring as much malevolence as he can for now, it's not gonna be enough to really purify anything unless he gets even more powerful.

It's worth noting that up until this point, Mikleo hasn't really done anything amoral yet, other than traumatizing Zaveid who witnessed his 'murder' and letting the others think he's evil 'cause he doesn't expect them to be onboard for his plan. He fights the others when they confront him but he always leaves them alive because he doesn't want to hurt them, he just wants them out of the way. His goal is to find Sorey again and more importantly, Maotelus.

At the same time as Innomeebo's galavanting around and dealing with his angry friends, Sorey and Maotelus wake up because Maotelus has sensed Innominat's awakening and wants to personally stop him. They depart from their own pocket of Earthpulse on borrowed time (not canon compliant but who cares fight me) in order to track him down or at least warn someone that he's a threat, because few alive today even know who he is, much less how dangerous his return is.

A bunch of things I have yet to write happen but ultimately Sorey and Mikleo end up reunited, initially delighted to see each other again until Sorey starts to realize Mikleo's domain is on par with an Empyrean, maybe the exact Empyrean he was looking for actually. Sorey starts to doubt whether he can even trust Mikleo or if this is just Innominat wearing his face to torment him. Meebominat, meanwhile, is arguing firmly that yes, it's really him, and he doesn't have any of Innominat's old evil plans for the world like the Ceremony of Suppression. He really does want to save the world. He just needs to devour Maotelus first-- after all, Maotelus is a part of Innominat, and with their powers combined and consolidated he should be able to purify the world fully.

Cue Sorey's sort of BSOD moment, trying to figure out if this is all a lie, somewhat swayed by the logic of it since Maotelus wouldn't even technically die, he'd just become a part of Innominat like Mikleo already has. But Maotelus absolutely does not want this (picture lil babby Laphicet telling Innomeebo to fuck off) and of course Sorey doesn't want to sacrifice one person, even if it would save the world. But now he's not sure if he has to stop and maybe kill Mikleo to save Maotelus, or if he can actually be reasoned with and saved somehow.

Eventually Sorey gets the idea to solve this problem the way he addressed the last major antagonist he came up against: get to the truth of the matter, using the Earthen Historia. He witnesses for himself what led Mikleo to this point of voluntarily sacrificing himself to gain power, and comes to the heartbreaking conclusion that this is, in fact, pure Mikleo, genuinely asking him to hand over Maotelus so he can eat him.

Again it's worth noting that Mikleo is motivated by more than just loneliness and longing to see Sorey again, although that's a big part of it. He's confident in his own abilities to be in charge and ambitious enough to embrace Empyrean levels of power. He's seen how much the world is suffering and wants to change that and fulfill the dream the two once shared. But Sorey's own words ("My dream will live on, so long as I don't forget,") are part of what inspired him to do this, though twisted through his own lens of desperation, and that's how Sorey realizes Mikleo WILL still listen to him. Mikleo has the power to fight and maybe take Maotelus by force, but he doesn't. Even if he's not consciously aware of it, he's handed over his moral compass to Sorey, and as long as Sorey approved of his actions, they'd all be worth it, no matter who was hurt along the way.

So of course Sorey doesn't approve, because he can't let Mikleo down even though he's begging him to. Mikleo is heartbroken and for a second Sorey worries he might lash out after all, but he doesn't, because Mikleo trusts Sorey more than anything else including himself. He willingly surrenders Innominat's power using the deus ex machina that is Siegfried, all while utterly grieving the eventual parting that's coming, since ultimately nothing has been fixed and Sorey will still have to go to sleep.

And that's the emotional climax of the story, the part that drives me insane every time I reread it 😅 I have ideas for more to follow afterward, hopefully a happier ending because even I hate to leave Mikleo exactly where he started after how far he went to change things, but between the confusing, inconsistent lore of berzesty and the endless possibilities of endings here I am once again overwhelmed. Thanks for reading this far though, I hope my sormik angst was to your taste 😄

[nocturne-overtures]

Kinktober Day 5-Bad Influences

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk (BTOB)/Lee Felix

Prompt: Daddy Kink, Spanking, Cumming From Punishment

WC: 2k+

Genre(s)/AU(s): Smut, Idolverse, Fluff

TWs: Swearing

SWs: Daddy Kink, Pet Names, Spanking (Hand and Paddle), Marking (Imprints), Bratty Sub, Teasing, Semi-Public, Sexual Punishment, Stoplight System, Dominant Idol, Submissive Idol, BDSM Overtones, Praise Kink, Pain Kink, Crying, Aftercare

Everything here is Safe, Sane, and Consensual as always, folks

A/N: I also have the tagged folks according to your preferences so if you’re someone who asked to be tagged in btob works, skz works, or both and included member x member works, then beep boop you’re gettin tagged. Also this is set during Kingdom filming

AO3

New! taglist moved to the bottom of the work. if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this or my other works, feel free to fill out the form here after reading the full post. ©Nocturne-Overtures. do not repost, translate, or use my works.

Kinktober 2021 Masterlist

Day 4                  Day 6

Network Pings: @kdiarynet @kwritersworld @kpopscape

Minhyuk was many things. 

Easily riled up, was not one of them. 

No, he was a very meticulous man. Took his time analyzing situations with a deceptive smile on his face, feigning aloofness while he sorted his thoughts. 

Think, before you act. Always. 

It was a lesson Felix hadn’t quite grasped yet, deciding he was going to follow after his friends’ footsteps and try provoking Minhyuk into action. 

Had he been learning bad behaviours from Wooyoung, Sanghyuk, and Sunwoo? Definitely. 

Unfortunately for Felix, Minhyuk had the benefit of age and experience on his side. He loved his boyfriend, no doubt, but he wasn’t so swooned and whipped that he’d crack like San. He wasn’t a switch in any capacity, so the tables didn’t get turned on him like with Youngbin. And he surely didn’t get flustered or caught out by misbehaviour like Sangyeon. 

So when Felix took to subtly brushing against him as they passed backstage for filming, when he sent him suggestive photos while changing costumes, the times he’d appear at Cube, an innocent smile on his freckled face as he sat directly in Minhyuk’s lap, pouting and chattering about how much he wished he could have fun with Minhyuk whenever he wanted like the others-

Minhyuk only hummed, kissing the top of Felix’s head. Today they were in the older man’s home, resting before the upcoming field day event.

“We only have a few more weeks of filming. I’ll be sure to stop by more often.”

“I mean...we have time now so-”

Felix pouted and looked up, shifting beside him on the couch, his freckled cheeks slightly puffed out. 

“Are you going to keep doing that?”

Minhyuk cocked a brow. 

“Doing what?” 

“Not…” Felix trailed off, making a small frustrated noise. Minhyuk cocked a brow, an amused noise leaving his lips. 

“Not what, baby? Fucking you?” 

Felix nodded and Minhyuk set the pen he had in his hand down, closing the notebook to the raps he was writing and humming. 

“Why do you think I haven’t fucked you, Felix?”

“I don’t know! I’ve been trying and-” he cut himself off, lips pursing.

Minhyuk couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips, a deep rumble resonating from his chest as he looked at Felix in amusement. 

“C’mon to my room. I’ll tell you why it didn’t work.” 

Felix perked and nodded eagerly, hustling after him, practically on Minhyuk’s heels. 

How he ended up here, sprawled out across Minhyuk’s lap with the older man humming and rubbing his ass was another story. Felix blushed, looking up, expecting Minhyuk to finger him and prep him. Instead, he had his head lightly tilted up, looking into Felix’s eyes. 

Instantly, the younger man realized-finally-that he may have been in trouble, eyes widening. 

“Um-”

“Would you like to explain now? Or would you prefer to take your punishment as I explain to you what you did wrong?"

Felix shrunk a bit, cheeks flared. 

“I can let you go and let you explain yourself. Or I can spank you and I tell you why you’re in trouble.”

Felix looked into his eyes. Minhyuk never moved his gaze from his. He was giving him a choice. He always did. Felix looked back, finding a small leather paddle sitting beside Minhyuk’s thigh while his large hand lie rested on Felix’s ass, unmoving for now. 

He shied and nodded. 

“I’m staying here.” 

“Do you remember our system?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Minhyuk nodded, a pleased sound leaving his lips. 

“Good.” 

He grabbed the paddle, rubbing Felix’s ass in circles before he brought the paddle down hard on his ass. Felix jolted and yelped, though Minhyuk kept him in his lap with his free hand wrapped securely around Felix’s waist. 

“You don’t have to count this time. But Daddy wants you to know that following after the other Brats is why that pretty ass is in trouble.”

Felix yipped at the second, then third hit, cheeks flushing as he felt the leather rub over his sore cheek between Minhyuk’s talking. 

“I j-just wanted you t-to….to…” He flushed and lowered his head. Minhyuk tapped his ass with the paddle. 

“Lift your head. You wanted me to what?”

“F-fuck me. They...they said being bratty and teasing works all the time for them and-fuck!” He cursed and jolted when his untouched cheek was struck, Minhyuk’s grip still strong around his waist. 

“There’s a difference between their Doms and Daddy, kitten.” he lightly scolded, his voice never going above the volume of his normal speaking tone. Felix bowed his head down. 

“S-sorry, Daddy.” Minhyuk hummed and rubbed his ass. 

“Are you?”

Felix nodded before whimpering and dropping his head once more when another hard spank fell to his ass. He could feel something on the paddle, like...an outline? Though the paddle was never pressed to his sore ass long enough for him to distinguish what it is. Minhyuk took care to rub him between spanks with the smooth end of the paddle. 

“Pick your head up, baby.” Minhyuk reminded him. Felix shuddered and muttered a quick apology before Minhyuk paused. 

“Are you alright?”

Felix nodded. 

“What’s your color, baby?”

“Green.” 

Minhyuk kissed his head before he continued. 

“I’m not San, or Youngbin, I’m not Sangyeon either. Who am I?”

“Minhyuk-hyung.”

A light tap to his ass from the paddle had Felix’s hips jolt, anticipating a full hit before he blushed. He realized he was hard, his cock pressed fully against Minhyuk’s leg. 

When had he gotten hard?

“Who am I, Felix?” He asked again. 

“M-My Daddy.” 

“Good. So Daddy is going to tell you, the best way to get him to fuck you, is to ask.” the paddle was discarded without a word, Minhyuk’s calloused hand squeezing and kneading both of Felix’s cheeks. 

“I won’t reward you with my cock for being a brat, Felix.” he scolded him, his hand coming down on Felix’s left cheek. A scream of surprise left his mouth and he nearly scrambled out of Minhyuk’s lap, his cock jumping against the fabric of the older man’s gym shorts. Minhyuk loosened his grip, giving him the chance to get out of it if he wanted to. 

Felix shook his head and settled back down, slightly panting as tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. 

“Color?”

“G-Green.”

Minhyuk hummed, sitting in silence for a few minutes, just groping and kneading the heated skin under his hand. Felix kept his head up like asked, though his thighs shook from his position across Minhyuk’s lap. The older man took notice, pulling him forward a bit more, spreading his long legs so he could support Felix a bit better. 

Once Felix had stopped shaking as much, Minhyuk continued. 

“Do you want to be a brat, Felix?”

Felix shook his head, groaning at the next spank, the tears rolling down his cheek as he clenched and unclenched his fists. 

“N-No, Daddy!”

“No? Not gonna try and be like Sunwoo and grind on me backstage like he does with Sangyeon?” 

Felix shook his head quickly, his hair stuck to his face and neck from the sweat that began to build up on his body. 

“What about sitting in my lap during meetings with the others? Mmm? Is it fair to tease Daddy like the others do? Do you think you should have my cock after being such a tease like that?” he inquired. Felix shook his head once more, biting his lip and all but thrusting against Minhyuk’s leg with the next jolt from his spank, his entire body flushed. 

He’d gotten hard, painfully so. Part of him feared he’d cum just from this. 

“D-Daddy-”

Minhyuk’s hand froze midair, attentive brown eyes looking down immediately. 

“What is it, baby? Do you want to stop?”

“N-No I…M...maybe? I feel like I’m going to cum and I don’t wanna be bad.”

Minhyuk’s eyes twinkled with mirth. 

“You’re gonna cum from your punishment?”

Felix shook his head quickly, embarrassed. 

“Felix. Be honest baby.” 

He flushed before nodding a moment later. 

“Do you want to cum?” 

He lifted his head, looking back at him with big eyes still teary from the pleasured pain thrumming through his cheeks. 

“I was bad.”

“I think you learned your lesson, personally. So I’ll ask you again. Do you want to cum?”

Felix nodded. 

“Yes, Daddy, please?”

“See? Those are the manners Daddy is looking for.” Minhyuk grabbed a few pillows, letting Felix rest his head on them before he resumed his spanking, growling between each strike. 

“Your ass looks pretty like this, baby. The red makes your freckles stand out. Go ahead, you can cum for me.” 

Felix could barely decipher his words between the sound of skin hitting skin and his own moaning and pleasured cries, his cock painfully hard between his legs. Minhyuk had growled something in particular, along the lines of Felix being his ‘cute pain slut’ before the younger man saw stars, cumming messily all over Minhyuk’s lap, his legs and thighs shaking as he nearly slipped to the floor from the force of it. 

Minhyuk held him tighter, keeping him steady as he picked him up, laying with Felix settled in his arms. 

He was careful, brushing Felix’s hair back and cooing sweet nothings to him as he sobbed against his chest. 

“You’re alright, baby boy. You did well for me.”

“B-But I was a brat-”

“Mmm. You were. And you took your punishment well. So, you’re a good boy. Hey, look at me,” Minhyuk waited until Felix’s sniffles subsided into little hiccups, the pained pleasure an overwhelming first time feeling for him. Minhyuk wiped his cheeks and kissed him gently. 

“You did so well. Let Daddy take care of you, okay?”

Felix nodded and held onto his arms as he stood, carrying him off to shower off. Minhyuk laughed and waved off the hasty apologies as Felix noticed him putting his shorts in the wash. 

“Don’t apologize to me, baby boy.” 

One magnolia scented, aloe-infused bath later, and Felix was on his stomach, eyes closed as Minhyuk gently massaged lotion over his cheeks. 

He was careful of his strength and there was no skin broken, but Felix had noted-in sheer delight-that Minhyuk’s paddle actually did have indentations, and they actually were hearts. Now his freckled bottom sported not only Minhyuk’s handprint to the left and a row of hearts to the right. 

“So...I think I have a spanking kink.” Felix mused tiredly as Minhyuk got him settled on his chest, putting on Deadpool for them to enjoy, since it had been one of Felix’s favorites. Minhyuk laughed and kissed him, holding his waist once he was sure Felix was warm and covered by the blanket. 

“I noticed.”

-xoxo-

So the field day was a completely different experience. 

Minhyuk felt a sense of pride as Felix waddled forward amongst the cheers that he had been voted as one of their top three visuals. The man looked around, pointing at himself through his slightly overgrown sweater and the older couldn’t hold back the happy exclamation of Felix’s name as he shuffled forward. 

He genuinely was surprised when they announced him for the number one of their visual kings, but he took it nonetheless, catching Felix mimicking his showboating from the corner of his eye.

How cute.

“They ended up voting for each other!”

Minhyuk turned, pointing at Felix as the younger man bowed deeply, flustered at having been chosen. 

He should have known Minhyuk would’ve chosen his baby boy above all else, but that’s beside the point. 

“Hey Felix, good boy.” 

Felix flushed and bowed again, and Minhyuk was approached later as they began to help staff clean up, the sun having gone down and the festivities over. 

“Hyung?” 

Minhyuk looked up at him, tilting his head. 

“Yes, Felix-ah?” he inquired, glancing around. The others were busy hustling to help staff so they could all rest up, leaving the two relatively alone. Felix adjusted his pink sleeves and looked up at him. 

“Uh...can I come over this weekend? For...um…’practice?’”

Minhyuk took it for what it was, a proud and knowing smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Taglist----

@not-majestic-bluenicorn @kimnamshiks @atiny-dazzlinglight @queenofhimbos @daisyhwa @gettin-a-lil-hanse @yunhofingers @stormiestories @billboard-singer @sweetutopia @lovely-devil6 @babiebumm @jacksons-goddess-gaia @storytimedragon @netcookie @seomisaho 

[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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