#depression!virgil

[casart]

..•Perception Distorted•..

[sandersontheside]

My hot take is that if Roman were to "duck out" the way Virgil did in Accepting Anxiety, the result would be something akin to clinical depression. Roman has always been more than Thomas's creativity, he's also Thomas's drive, his passion, his desire. The motivation and ability to make art, or work, or even build relationships. All of that is wrapped up in Roman.

Sure, there are other motivating factors as we've seen in the videos on the topic. Logan motivates with the knowledge that work puts food on the table, Virgil motivates through fear. But Roman is the only one who motivates through love and joy, through hopes and dreams. Because while Patton is driven by emotion, he's more impulsive, more driven by what will make Thomas feel good in the moment, as opposed to Roman who while fanciful and emotional, is ultimately driven by plans and goals for the future.

Therefore, without Roman, Thomas would have no drive. No passion. No desire to make or do anything beyond base necessities for staying alive. No ability to see past immediate survival or imagine a possible happier future. No hopes and dreams. No spark. I don't even think Virgil's strongest panic could override a complete lack of passion for anything. Thomas would feel anxious and awful, but he still wouldn't be able to do anything.

And that's basically what clinical depression is. It's not just being sad--it's being exhausted, and numb, and unable to get out of bed in the morning because you just don't care about anything anymore. It's not finding joy in the things you used to love the most. It's feeling paralyzed because there are so many things you should be doing or you want to do, but you simply can't. Depression is, at its core, a lack of passion, joy, and drive.

[halfhissandwich]

I was thinking about this: Logan implies that only feeling-based sides are able to duck out when he explains to Thomas that he, as logic, can’t duck out like Virgil did. And in the EXACT SAME EPISODE, Patton is described as the “core of a lot of Thomas’ feelings.” I THINK that Patton is the only other side that can duck out, and if he did, c!Thomas would experience what is essentially depression (apathy, a loss of interest in previous interests, etc)

(Bonus headcanon: If the orange side does turn out to be Rage, he will also be capable of ducking out.)

[cookiecrumbconundrum]

six months since || just another day, thank god

and i am glad, so deeply glad, that six months since the worst day it is just a normal day. i feel normal. i am on meds now. i am happier. i am in therapy. and i am no longer in the space. a thousands times happier and a thousand times more stable. i do things that make it easier for me to move through the world instead of just pushing through. it is another day and tomorrow will be another days and those days will bleed into a future.

when i was done dying, dan deacon | tired, ramón casas | “letter to violet dickinson”, virginia woolf | interior, model reading, edward hopper | sand and foam, kahlil gibran | burn it down, brian luong |tim kavanagh | grant howitt | the aeneid, virgil | jujutsu kaisen, gege akutami |undertale | nickie zimov | please stay, lucy dacus | suzanne siegel | rhythm of war, brandon sanderson  | stranger things, matt duffer & ross duffer | letter to an old poet, boygenius | sower at sunset, vincent van gogh | oathbringer, brandon sanderson | everything everywhere all at once, daniel kwan & daniel scheinert | once a lady told me, nikki giovanni | poet’s loft, david hettinger | kurt vonnegut | downtown express 72nd st. station, subway, new york, 1977, willy spiller | thanK you aIMee, taylor swift | daughters of the dust, julie dash | loose lips, kimya dawson | vincent van gogh | letters to vera, vladimir nabokov

[princeanxious]

Finally got to finish a sketch in over a friggen month. @this-is-ske has been an awesome support 💜 (art pose referenced saved from pinterest)

Bonus progress sketch of virgil being a gremlin under the cut

Virgil: kiss? More like ‘mlem’

Janus: i hate you

[zel-zo]

Apartment Depression

---

Also known as 'fur affinity is down so you guys get Virgil today. Drawing my hyena boy is as close to coping as I plan to get

[hebuiltfive]

Thundertober Day Seven: Alive

Please, please check the warnings for this one.

I've tried to cover enough to be on the safe side but it does delve into some darker thoughts, so please be mindful of that. I hadn't planned on this getting quite so... depressing. It was supposed to have an uplifting end. Fair warning: it doesn't.

AO3 here

Days: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six

Warnings for: Suicidal Thoughts; Depression; Major Character Injury. This is set post-Hydrofoil. Gordon is having to come to terms with the cost of surviving an accident that should have left him dead. Tagging: @thunder-tober @skymaiden32 @idontknowreallywhy (just going to put it out there that if you want to be tagged in any future Thundertober pieces, or future pieces in general, let me know and I'll tag you too!)

What was the point of being alive if it meant you could no longer live?

The mirror was his enemy. He refused to even take a glance because who exactly would be staring back at him? What had he become? Life or death and he had chosen to live because he was strong and his human survival instincts had kicked in, but what was the cost?

His legs were currently immobile, his arms cocooned in casts. Most of his body was either bandaged or strapped up in some way, metal rods and plating fixed inside him as though he were a bionic man. There was probably some sort of joke in there somewhere, but Gordon failed to see the funny side. He failed to make a joke about anything as of late, and for good reason.

He had survived, but now he was facing a life of… this. 

Apparently, there was still a chance he might have been able to return to his old life, but the odds were against him. According to some of the doctors, there was a slim possibility of Gordon being able to walk again. It was a tiny glimmer of hope, but he chose to not think of it. To think of it, to hope for it, only for it to likely be ripped away from him all over again? He’d rather remain solemn and bed-ridden without the dream, thanks.

Because that’s all it was now. 

A dream of a past life and a possible future that was no longer within his grasp.

Whenever his brothers came by to visit, usually once a day, they’d reassure him, or try to, but none of them had ever been good liars, at least not to Gordon’s face. He could tell instantly when Scott blinked excessively and barely offered him a simple glance in his direction; when Virgil took great interest in the way his booted feet twisted and moved across the shaggy carpeted rug beside his hospital bed; when John’s fingers would not stop fidgeting with the zipper on his hoodie and would give only an uncharacteristic shrug as an answer whenever Gordon asked him a question.

Late at night, when the wing had fallen asleep and the only sounds that filled the area was the soft humming of machines and the padded feet of nurses doing their routinely hourly checks, Gordon would allow his mind to wander away on whims and what-ifs. 

What if he’d never joined that stupid test programme?

What if he had instead followed his dreams?

What if he had never got in that damned accident and still had a body that worked?

Never again would he be able to join his family on their hikes through the canyons near home. Never again would he be able to swim laps through the foaming waves on the West Coast. He had once considered taking up surfing more seriously, to add to his list of water hobbies, but now Gordon knew he’d never have the chance.

Wrapped up in cotton strips and constantly having to warn airport security of the additions to his body… This wasn’t living. At times he even question whether striving had been worth it.

Gordon eventually found the strength to confide in Virgil those thoughts which constantly ate away at him. His empathetic nature made Gordon feel like he would be the only brother who could understand, and who wouldn’t bat away his concerns with a simple don’t even think like that, you’re going to be fine, even with the odds stacked against him.

“What will make the surviving worth it, then?” Virgil had asked him, cradling a plastic cup that had once held the contents of a coffee vending machine. He’d slowly sipped his way through the warm, comforting drink as Gordon had bared his soul.

To his credit, Gordon hadn’t allowed a single tear to stain his cheeks. In his eyes, that was a win. He managed to open up to his brother without breaking down. It wasn’t that he thought Virgil wouldn’t have been able to take Gordon’s meltdown. He just didn’t want his brother having to witness it.

“I don’t know.” He replied honestly after a moment of quick, silent reflection. “I don’t think anything will.”

He couldn’t look Virgil in the eyes because he knew how it sounded. As a family, they never gave up. After everything they’d been through, they always found a way to continue fighting through the dark until the light appeared at the end of the tunnel again, but this time, Gordon felt exhausted. To him, the tunnel had caved in and there was no escape from the endless gloom.

“Walking again.” Virgil answered for him. “That would make it worth it. Running again. Standing again. Swimming again.”

The word made Gordon tense. It also made him lock eyes with his brother. For the first time in that conversation, there was a glossy sheen to those orbs as tears threatened to fall regardless of what Gordon wanted. “Don’t.” He warned carefully. “Don’t use that as a—”

“Gordon, the chances aren’t zero.”

And there it was. So much for believing Virgil wouldn’t try and reassure him with those ridiculous odds again.

“They’re as good as, Virg!” Gordon hadn’t meant to raise his voice. He knew his brother was only trying to help in the best way he could, but the pain was still raw and Gordon didn’t want to think about possibilities. “Don’t give me hope only to take it away again.”

“I’m giving you facts.”

“The fact is,” Gordon shuffled himself a little higher in his bed, ignoring the protest from his lower spine, “that no-one knows what the fuck is going to happen because I shouldn’t even be here! I should have died in that wreck, but for some unknown, Godforsaken reason, I’m still here and I wish I wasn’t!”

Gordon had never once regretted speaking to any of his brothers. He’d never once regretted choosing to open up to them, least of all Virgil, but as he sat there, taking in his brother’s horrified expression at his claim, Gordon regretted ever opening his mouth at all.

He didn’t let up. He couldn’t. To apologise or to backtrack would only offer two choices: Virgil would either accept his outburst as a mistake and not take any action, or he wouldn’t buy the act and would begin to put an action plan in place to tackle Gordon’s supposed way of thinking. Gordon wasn’t sure which option was worse.

So he continued.

“If it was you, Virgil… if you suddenly lost the ability to use your hands, your fingers, and now your painting and your piano playing was just a distant memory of what you could once do, how the fuck would you feel?”

He wasn’t sure what Virgil was thinking as he just stared at his younger brother. He wasn’t sure if any answer was going to be given, let alone an honest one. All of those doubts dissipated when Virgil leant forward. His elbows rested on the sheets of the bed, his hands holding as best he could onto one of Gordon’s casts.

“I would fight because the alternative isn’t better than this. That is never better than having some sort of life, Gordon. Death is death, but life… No matter how bad it seems now, life has variables and possibilities, and you should never wish for anything else.”

Gordon didn’t bother trying to hold back the tears any longer. He knew Virgil was right, but accepting that meant accepting a whole lot more pain.

“I’m too tired, Virg.” He whispered, head hanging lowly in defeat and shame.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that when you’ve still got fight left in you, Gordon. I know you have.” Virgil tilted Gordon’s chin upwards with two gentle fingers. “You’re a Tracy. We don’t give up. So long as you are alive, there is hope, whether you think it’s worth believing in or not. So long as you are alive, you can fight, even if you believe you’re too tired to keep going. So long as you are alive, I will help you as much as I can because you are my brother and I’d much rather have to wait on you hand and foot than attend another gravestone, okay?”

It wasn’t a question to ask whether Gordon understood.

It was a question to ask whether Gordon would accept that unspoken promise.

“We take each day as it comes, but we never give up. So long as you are alive, Gordon, promise me that you will never give up.”

“I’m not great at promises, Virg, but…”

He trailed off his sentence, hoping his brother understood that he would try. 

Trying was all he had left to give. 

[typically-untypical]

Nobody talks about how Logan has begun to drink a concerning amount of alcohol in recent episodes. Maybe a fic about his new found coping mechanism?

You my dear anon are a person of a discerning palate. I have been thinking about this for a while but didn't think about writing anything on it. Apparently, I had a lot to say though because this fic ended up being a little over 2.7k

That being said there are a lot of Content Warnings: Alcohol Abuse, Violence, depression, isolation, and self-hatred, so everyone please read with caution!

PS to my Tag list: Sorry I didn't tag y'all in all of the other ones I've posted this week, I wasn't using my own computer so I didn't have easy access to the list!

Logan didn’t have a problem. A problem would constitute that it was affecting him in ways that were unexpected. Logan knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how it was affecting him, and exactly what the outcomes would be. He was logic, and he was smart enough to make the choices that needed to be made to make him most efficient. His new founding coping mechanism might be less than healthy but addictions were tied to emotional triggers, and he was Logic, he didn’t have emotions. He wasn't addicted and the moment that this wasn't the most logical option for processing his stressors he would stop.

He would have no problem stopping.

Looking down at the empty bottle of wine that sat on his desk, Logan sighed, pushing himself out of his chair. He was desperately trying to lie to himself. Even he wasn’t convinced it hadn’t become problematic. He was spiraling, and Logan was aware of it. It used to be that a single glass at the end of the day would help his frayed nerves but now he was drinking at least a bottle a day, if not more. Whatever it took to keep himself from feeling the world around him. He wasn't supposed to feel. He just wanted to be numb.

Numb was so much easier than the screaming echoes in his head. 

With a snap, Logan cleaned up his room, looking around what used to be a calming place for him. At one time his room had been his pride and joy, awards from childhood, Thomas' diploma, everything that Logan had worked hard to build. Now it was a monument to his failures, a life they could have had that was abandoned along with him.

After cleaning up his room, Logan had to sit back down. That was a lot of energy for someone not completely sober, and a lingering thought in the back of his head told him that he had earned another glass of wine but he could feel that maybe he needed a glass of water, just this once. Cleaning up his room felt like giving himself a new perspective. He summoned himself a water, sipping at it lightly. It was nice to have everything looking so clean, it was relaxing. It made him feel better to have the area looking clean again after so long. There was a small bit of hope in him that maybe he could keep his room clean, but he knew it wouldn't last. It wasn't just the bottles, it was his mental state, the things he was constantly trying to pretend that he wasn't feeling. However, maybe for just a little bit longer he could pretend like everything was okay, like he wasn’t being ignored, like his function hadn’t been relegated to ‘comic relief’, like he had actually found his answers at the bottle of the bottle. 

Time wasn't kind. He couldn't sit there in his world of fantasy much longer. Despite all of the turmoil in the mindscape, Patton had been trying to maintain movie night, a tradition that had started when they had accepted Virgil. Things had felt simpler back then. Watching Big Hero 6 with everyone else after Virgil had convinced Roman that his choice sucked, had been entertaining. Now, everything was strained. Patton let Roman get away with everything he wanted, Virgil was on the Prince's side, and Logan was left to fend for himself, if he wanted to fight at all. Honestly, he had a feeling all of this was going to fall apart. The sooner the better, he didn't want to have to deal with the three of them but he continued to out of obligation. It served no purpose for Thomas to continue to fight himself. In what little ways he could, Logan wanted to support Thomas' growth as a person, even if it meant he got left behind. 

“Hey Logan!” Patton said with a smile that looked a bit forced. He was trying his best, but they all knew it wasn’t enough. As Logan looked at the fatherly side he could only see the panicked look of frustration and fear as he hit the "Skip All" button, as he shoved aside Logan's commentary.

“Patton,” he responded with a nod, sitting down on the couch in the same spot he always took. He didn't want to add to the stress Patton had been experiencing. Logan was trying to be the best logic he could be, he wanted to support everyone's mental health, he had been trying to change, but it didn't feel like enough. 

He could already feel his buzz wearing off and he rubbed his temples, debating on if he was going to try to make it thought movie night as he continued to grow more sober, or if he was going to continue on his bad habit? Roman was glaring at Patton, refusing to say a word to him. Virgil refused to make eye contact all together and Logan felt his headache grow. “You look awful, nerd.” Roman had always been like this, he pushed and teased and did whatever he wanted. He said cruel things not because he was cruel but because he had so little of a filter. HE was more like his brother than he realized sometimes. Normally, Logan just let it brush off his shoulders, much like he brushed off Remus' morning star but today... he just couldn't handle it anymore. He conjured himself a glass of wine, sipping at it slowly. He didn't want to feel anymore.

As Roman put on a movie, Logan could feel Patton staring at him. Logan was sure that Patton was judging him, silently trying to figure out how to bring up the conversation without being rude. Well the joke was on him, that wasn't possible, not if he wanted to get the information he thought it was so important he needed. Logan ignore him, just like everyone else had been doing to him. At least, he did until he had finished his glass and Patton continued to stare. At that point it was just annoying. “Is there something you need?” Logan snapped, eyebrow raised, irritation written into every harsh crease on his face.

Patton hesitated, if he had any good sense about him he would drop it, but of course he didn't. Logan knew only a few of the sides had brain cells and Patton wasn't one of them... maybe he was being to harsh... no, after everything that had happened Patton deserved worse, and it wasn't as if he was saying any of this out loud. "You've been drinking a lot of wine recently, are you... are you enjoying it?" He chickened out of the question he was going to ask. Of course he did, it was Patton. 

"This was a decent vintage, I have it simulated from one of Thomas' memories." 

"Oh, well... I'm glad you are enjoying it. You should be careful not to drink too much though, it's not healthy for you."

Logan looked at Patton, eyebrow raised. "Patton we are metephisical beings, drinking doesn't even make us drunk unless we choose for it to do so." He stated, waving his hand as if that fact was obvious.

"Well... it's um... it's just unlike you kiddo."

“First of all, I'm not your child, and second of all, I am allowed to pick up new habits as they suit me.” If Patton wanted to continue to dance around his point, the Logan wasn't going to entertain him and give him the information he wanted. 

And apparently Patton wasn't going to ask. “Yeah, you're right, I just... I wanted to make sure you were aware of the change. You know sometimes we start picking up habits and we don't even realize it."

"Leave the nerd alone," Roman called, "If he wants to drink let him drink." Logan was both thankful that Roman cut in and frustrated.

He was aware, he was drowning and all the three of them could do was push him aside as they continued their next fight. Roman came to his defense, but he was completely ignoring the fact that Logan needed help. Silence once again fell over the room, the only sound being that of the TV in front of them. The wine in Logan's stomach churned and the itch to grab something stronger ran up his spine. There was a part of him that was thankful Patton had dropped the subject, a part of him that was thankful Roman had stopped their conversation. He didn’t want to talk about the unhealthy nature of his coping mechanism and all of the other things he already knew. He just wanted to be left alone. However, there was another part of him desperately crying out, begging for someone to notice he was in trouble and needed help. He was desperate for the care which might make him break and truthfully answer the question Patton refused to ask. “I’m very much aware," He answered, gripping the side of the couch. How could he not be?

He was aware he had a problem; he was aware he needed help, but the numbness was so much more preferable to the pain. Loud intrusive thoughts plagued him during the day, and if he didn’t self mediacate, they would almost assuredly win. What was a side to do when they realized that they were no longer a useful part to the human they cared for? He needed to cope more than he needed to stop himself. He wasn't willing to admit the truth that waited for him in sobriety. 

No one was going to offer him a helping hand, so he was going to do what he needed to do.

The quiet was no longer the calm of a movie night but the tenseness from an unfinished conversation. Patton was fidgeting and Roman and Virgil eventually looked back at the two of them. There was something in both of their eyes that Logan couldn't pin point, but he wasn't comfortable under their gaze. “I will be returning to my room.” He stood up, pushing himself from the couch, maybe that wine had been a little stronger than he thought. It was fine, he could continue to pretend, he had a lot of practice in it. Honestly, he was thankful to have an excuse to leave anyway. He hadn’t come down to be judged, and he had no intention of staying here if all they wanted to do was stare at him and make him feel guilty for the way he was coping with the pain they caused. 

He swayed a little bit as he reached the top of the stairs, hand on the wall to keep himself up. It didn't feel like they were staring anymore, maybe this was just one more time that they wanted to get rid of him. He summoned a bottle, drinking a heafty swig before disappearing it.

He was fine. Everything was fine.

The world was spinning, but he had nothing else to do tonight. He didn't have to work and he could just slip into unconsciousness. As he entered his bedroom, he found the whole floor covered in empty bottles, glasses, any kind of container that had once held alcohol. What was more, he knew each one, the bottle he had just drank from a moment ago was sitting on his desk. They were all staring at him, mocking him and he recoiled, hand on the door handle. He had just cleaned his room, all of this should be cleaned, instead in was meticulously placed as if to mock him. Was he really so drunk that he was starting to hallucinate? He knew he had a problem, he just didn't think it had gotten this bad.

“Hello Chemisty Solution, get it? Cuz that’s what you smell like.” Remus was laying on his bed, looking at him. There was a smirk outlined on the chaotic man's face. He didn’t normally have issues with Remus but after the incident with Thomas’ schedule…. After one more person had helped him be pushed away!

“Out,” He growled. Logan snapped to get rid of the bottles, but they didn’t move. This had to be some fuckery that Remus was pulling to prove a point. Fine, Logan would just do it the old fashion way. He began picking them up one by one.

“Now where is the fun in that?” Remus watched him like a hawk, this was the exact reason that Logan had left the Movie night. He didn’t need to be judged. He wanted to cope in peace where no one else could give their two cents into how he could fix a problem they caused. “Y’know, Jannie says you are going to come to your sense and reach out for help, but I think he underestimates how stubborn you are, so I’m taking over.”

Why should he reach out for help from a prince who never listened to him, an emo who called him the least favorite, a father who refused to listen to anyone's voice other than his own, a gremlin who wanted him to suffer, or a snake who benched him? Why would he reach out to any of them?!

“Get Out,” Logan stated again, frustration and anger pouring over him as he fought to grab one of the bottles that was sitting on his floor. Bending down like that was hard, he almost lost his balance but he refused to lose his dignity in front of Remus. He refused!

“Nah, I’m here to stop you and force you to look at the consequences of your actions or some shit.” Remus was acting nonchalant, laying in the bed as if this were a normal conversation between friends but he didn't get that privilage. 

Logan could feel his blood boiling, his anger pouring off of him in waves as he threw a bottle towards Remus’ head. He shouldn't have done that, but the anger felt so good. The bottle shattered next to Remus and Logan could feel his body getting hot. “You don’t get to play the hero when you are part of the problem!” Logan went to grab another bottle, ready to throw it again, but Remus wasn’t on the bed anymore. Instead, he stood in front of Logan, holding onto the other man’s wrist tightly. He was stopping Logan from expressing his anger, stopping him from lashing out but this was the most he had felt in weeks. He wanted the anger, because it was the only emotion that didn't leave him feeling like a gaping hole had been shot through his chest. He didn't want to see the pity in Remus’ eyes.

“I want you to go crazy," Remus' voice was surprisingly calm and quiet, "but this isn’t what I meant. You need to throw that anger somewhere where it will be constructive, or you’re just going to get consumed by your own flames.” No, he didn't get to lecture Logan. He didn't get to try to be a savior.

Logan fought and struggled against Remus hand. He didn’t want to hear this. He had been fighting alone for so long, when he was hurt no one reached out to him. He wasn't going to lay down his weapon just because someone was finally acknowledging that there was a problem.

"Remus, let me take over." That was Janus, his voice also smooth and calm as Logan felt Remus disappear. Janus took his place, but he led Logan's hand down, no longer raised in a form of aggression. "I'm sorry Logan," He whispered, and for a brief moment Logan almost felt like he was going to get the apology he wanted, but instead, Janus continued. "This is going to hurt, but you need to let yourself feel all of it."

Suddenly the buzz and the anger were gone, instead replaced by everything both had been trying to mask. Tears began pouring down Logan's face as he almost collapsed to his knees, caught by Janus' other arms.

"Please, I don't want to feel, I don't want..."

"I know," Janus cooed quietly, "But you need to. If you are going to get over this, you are going to have to feel all of the pain you've been hiding."

Logan collapsed into Janus' chest, his legs having already given out.

"Please, I don't want to feel anymore."

Tag List: @simplestoryteller @fantasticfangirl21 @joylessnightsky @melaniidarling

[manybrokenquills]

To the poor people who followed me for my two sander sides posts and checking my profile and just seeing me vent...

SORRYYYYY

[streets-in-paradise]

My dad never speaks to me, but when he did today was just to provide the perfectly on spot comment triggering my depressive thoughts.

I'm now writing the most angsty piece of Troy fic I ever wrote instead of the request I wanted to finish.

[perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare]

Virgil: People are always like “Well if that bad stuff didn’t happen, you wouldn’t be who you are today.”

Virgil: I don’t want to be who I am today!

Virgil: What I want to be is mentally stable!

[halfhissandwich]

“Expressing an unhealthy amount of concern.”

[jaratedeguadalupe]

sleepxiety as someone who's been on both sides of the sleep spectrum with extreme insomnia and sleeping 12+ hours a day and STILL being tired is hilarious to me

[captainshadowgirllostfan]

OMG WHAT KIND OF FUCKING EPISODE AM I WATCHING!!!?

Garfied's arc deals with depression right.

In episode 16 of Season 4, Static Shock, Blue Beetle, Wonder Girl, and ...some robot (whose name idk because idk Doom Patrol that well tbh) stage an intervention per Miss Martian's instruction to help Garfield get help for his depression and see a psychiatrist...

and you know what their fucking method in doing that is!!?

Guilt-tripping Garfield in failing them all because he's depressed over Conner's death along with the many deaths he had to fucking himself up from including his mom, Rita, Tula, Jason, Wally, and now Conner...and there were other names too but I forgot

like wtf is that really how you help someone with depression and help them seek help? Guilt-tripping them and making them feel like THEY'RE THE VILLAIN for failing everyone else.

I don't blame Garfield for not responding to those sorry-ass speeches. EVERYONE and I mean EVERYONE made those speeches about themselves. All about themselves. Yes they were talking about Garfield and how he inspired them...but ultimately it was about how they needed him

NOT about what he needs.

And M'Gann....she just ends it "It must feel nice huh...dismissing them all like that"

ugh fuck this bitch I swear. She should be no one's psychiatrist or guidance counselor...even her way of dealing with Harper and her domestic abuse problem was questionable a bit now that I'm seeing how she's dealing with Garfield

I thought M'Gann was a trained guidance counselor

She fucking sucks!

[romantichore]

wish i could travel back in time to talk to 15 year old me and ask her how she managed to write so much without having a semblance of an organization system

girly howww were you keyboard smashing titles of files and still writing thousands of words and somehow remembering all these ideas

[mimssides]

Insecurity

Here's my first late submission to the @loginceweek2023. Have fun and stay safe!

Read on AO3 | Masterpost

He had seen many girls like her; she carried herself as if she was better than anybody sitting in this room simply by default. Her red hair was pulled up in a neat high ponytail, her pastel green dress looking like it cost more to get professionally ironed than a single dinner for his whole family of eight. Her low heels clacked delicately on the floor as she walked from the club leader back to one of the tables which was still free.

Anyway, Logan had no time to pay her too much attention. He had to scan all the students and see if there were people he actually needed to steer clear from. People who would harass him for things beyond his control and would not take kindly to the fact that he was here not because of connections and money but because of his intellect alone.

It didn’t take long and he had spotted a group of one man and two people with nonbinary patches, who eyed him suspiciously. Their looks were stuck on his, admittedly, walked out running shoes. He had them since his feet had stopped growing during ninth grade, so they had figuratively seen some shit. He tried not focus too much on it and steered away from them. There were enough other people around, so he most likely would be able to keep his distance even if they would get put into the same group for their defence team.

A little chatter went around the room. Logan ended up standing with some women who all weren’t from the area and kept quiet and to himself but agreed and smile more or less at the right time.

Patton better be proud of him for playing nicely. It wasn’t his strong suit and he felt relief wash over him when the club president took a stand and welcomed them all. A charismatic man introducing himself as Jeff and said they would go right into it and choose their first topic to debate.

“Does living in the dorm facilities help students in their studies at the Academy or is it harmful for the students studying progress?”

They would be divided into four groups, two for living on campus and two against. Giving them 15 minutes of time to figure out their arguments and choose two speaker for each group, so they could have eight debates in total.

Logan could work with this. He got put into a group which was to debate for living on campus, and while he himself didn’t live here he had no problem to come up with arguments and help assess which ones would work the best against the other groups’ possible counter arguments. Indeed, he was so good that the others in his group quickly decided that the should be their first speaker and Logan was pleased with himself. He had proven to be competent enough without even having to prompt them to consider him.

The 15 minutes ended rather quickly and Logan walked up to Jeff with his group mate. They all repeated their names and Jeff made the match ups for the eight debates. Two rounds would go simultaneously and the first pairing was already announced as Jeff revealed that the second pairing would be: “Logan Sowa and Jewel Choi! Please get your facts ready and go over to the right side of the room. I’ll be with you in a second.”

Curiously Logan looked around to see who Jewel Choi was. And with him to the right wandered the redheaded woman from before. Here eyes, suprisingly dark, landed on him and she simply raised an eyebrow.

Well. He could work with this. He would put her down a notch or two, Logan silently decided and took his place behind the podium.

Patton didn’t like this. Logan had promised he would be done by six and come and go to dinner with him by twenty past six. It was 18:46 now, his phone display said and he nervously paced up and down. He was aware that his friend tended to be a little late for everything except for work and school related things but for Patton he usually made an excpetion and was at most five minutes late.

“Uh, do you want to call this guy?” Virgil, Patton’s third newest friend asked. “This seems to stress you out.”

Patton turned to him and smiled up. The lanky man, completely in black with eyeliner smeared under his eyes was flanked by his boyfriend Remus, Patton’s second newest friend. The pair was a rather odd one, Remus with his bright pink dyed hair and his revealing clothes with neon accents and Virgil with his dark as the night aesthetic. And yet they seemed to get along well and that was all Patton could wish for the two of them. They had already endeared themselves to him and he wanted to pat them on the head and maybe give them a second cookie or two.

“It’s okay, kiddos. Logan sometimes has troubles with punctuality. I shouldn’t worry. He’s not a child anymore after all,” Patton waved their concern off and looked back to school building.

Despite his words, Patton couldn’t help himself. He knew how Logan struggled to make new friends and that the Academy, even though he had dreamt of coming here, didn’t feel safe to him. So Patton had made it his mission to take care and check up on Logan today. Which was rather hard when his friend wasn’t here to be taken care of.

A big, gloved hand pulled him out of his thoughts. Quickly Patton turned and saw his first new friend of the year stand before him. Or well, tower over him. Patton wasn’t particularly tall and Janus Andreà was about the same height as Logan, which was pretty tall in Patton’s book. But that was where the apparent similarities of the two ended already. Janus had a rather burly statue, big chest, big arms, and a bit of a gut. His clothing was almost as dark as Virgil’s but it leaned more into a refined, toned down goth look; black blouse with some soft ruffles around the collar and a pair of two very pretty golden clasps connected with a delicate chain. He did think that the black pleated pants with thin golden stripes and the black bulgariens were a little over the top but Patton couldn’t deny that it did look good on Janus. Well, all of him looked good but that was besides the point.

“It seems you aren’t being quite honest with us,” Janus said smoothly.

Patton could not help but pout at his new friend who simply raised his eyebrow. He was surprisingly resistent to his puppy eyes and Patton was not happy about that. It also didn’t help that he looked at him with those nice brown green eyes. Really, far too distracting.

Enough with distraction though. Patton was worrying about a friend, not being strage about his new friend.

“I might be a little worried,” Patton said and pulled away from Janus’ big hand, “but it’s alright. Logan is very capable. I know he can handle himself.”

“So why are we waiting for him, if he can handle himself so well?”

Patton’s look grew stern. The pretty eyes were forgotten and he told Janus very, very calmly: “Just because people can handle themselves and are strong and independent, doesn’t mean that they don’t need to be checked upon from time to time. Especially if they are used to never being asked about how their day went and are expected to shoulder everything just because nobody has the time to look after them. So, I will wait for my friend. If you are cold or hungry and want to leave, you may. But I will wait for him and that is final. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” it came from all three men at once and Patton quickly turned back to look to the academy facilities.

A shiver ran down Patton’s spine. He hadn’t meant to-

Relief spread throughout him at the sight of Logan finally showing up around the corner. Without thinking he ran towards his friend, promptly lowering his speed as he noted the downcast look on Logan’s face. His shoulders hang low, as he pushed his bycicle next to his side, which was odd enough in itself, but damming with the fact that he didn’t even lift his eyes from the floor. No, that wouldn’t do.

“Logan!” he called and latter looked to him.

But there was no relief as he registered Patton. No, Patton realized quickly. Logan wasn’t looking at him; he was looking at his new friends and he could see his friend’s mood turning sourer by the minute.

“Logan.”

Logan had stopped in his track. Patton stood in front of him and pouted at him. Damned shall be that pout and he pulled his eyes away from him or the other people behind him.

“I’m afraid you and your new ... camerades waited for naught. I am not in a good condition to go out for dinner. Excuse the inconvinience,” Logan said blandly.

“Logan.”

Logan’s eyebrow twitched. His jaw clenched and he glared at Patton’s patronizing tone.

Angrily he tried to pass Patton and hissed: ”Let me spare you my company and just go off with your - your whatever! I’ve gotta get home now.”

Patton gripped him gently by the wrist. Of course gently, as it was how Patton did all things. Gently as the rich would all speak when they would take the last coin out of his families pocket.

“Has someone been mean to you?”

Why did Patton always have to sound so genuine? Why did his gentle not seem so damning than the others?

“It’s not worth mentioning. I made a fool of myself.”

Patton winced at the coldness of his voice. He knew his tells far too well.

“I’m sure it’s not so bad. And even if it was; there are many more days to come where you can prove how smart you really are.”

Of course, that got the tiniest smile out of Logan. Patton let go of his wrist and slung him in an awkward hug with the bycicle pressed between the both of them. Awkwardly as well Logan hugged back and looked at the people who had waited with Patton here.

“I’m still not going to eat with them,” Logan said bluntly when he pulled away.

“Logan!”

“In how many different tones are you planning to say my name tonight? It is getting rather ridciulous at this point,” Logan deadpanned at Patton’s appallment.

“They are nice people! My three newest friends! I want you to meet them, I’m sure you’ll get along great,” Patton insisted.

Logan just raised his eyebrows.

“Patton” - he pointed at the emo’s shoes - “this man’s doc martens could pay for my family’s meals for a month. We’re eight people. I’m not going to to argue with more rich-”

“They’re fakes!”

Logan blinked. The smallest man smiled brightly and pulled the emo towards him and Patton.

“Uh, what Rem means is,” the emo stuttered, “that I thrifted these and modified them to look like actual doc martens? Because I don’t make enough at the bar I work at on the weekends and my parents don’t approve of me spending their money to look, uh, like this. But you’re right. Rich people suck.”

“YEah! We suck! Down with the rich fuckers!” Rem giggled and went to high five the emo who grinned sheepishly but high-fived back.

“My fathers do not suck,” the last man said bemusedly and met Logan’s gaze. “But I can be quite the bitch.”

“Language!” Patton whined.

That was what managed to get a laugh out of Logan and the three weird individuals, who Patton had aggressively befriended, laughed with him. Maybe going to dinner with these people wouldn’t be too bad after all.

It couldn’t be true. That couldn’t be it.

Who was she trying to fool though? L30N_the_L30 was Logan. Patton had given her all of their alters. He had given him Logan’s too but she had been sure that she must have misremembered the name. That she must have messed up the numbers. But today Leo had told her that he would like her to meet his friends if she felt up to it. He had told her their alters.

It were exactly the same names that Patton had given her this lunch. To Jewel’s credit, she hadn’t flinched at Leo’s - Logan? - words. She had continued as if nothing had happened, had sung a song, had joked, and laughed with him until it was time to call it a night.

Now the rest of her life lay in shambles in front of her. The one guy from her real life friend group, who very obviously didn’t like her, who very obviously wanted her to be someone else’s problem, was the very same guy who had started chatting with her two months ago. The very same guy who made her feel okay with being himself. Who made a person out of that string of random numbers he had chosen to represent himself with. Who made his life much more bearable than it had been for years at this point.

The man who Jewel was starting to actually love so much that he wanted to take care of himself. So, that he wouldn’t worry Logan. Or Leo? Was Leo to Logan what his own alter was to Jewel? Or was Leo just a game to Logan? Was all of this just a game to him while it was the world to Jewel?

No. No, 25 - the nickname Leo/Logan had given him, knew that it wasn’t true. To Logan this world wasn’t just a game. It was his take at freedom and happiness. His chance to not be fighting for survival with some shard of decency left but to have fun and be young.

It was not the same to what 25 got out of it, but it was meaningful and special nevertheless.

This world was for Logan to be happy in. It wasn’t the only place where he truly existed, no, not how it was for 25. 25 who was just a number and would never be real. He would never breathe and joke and be happy and sing outside of the academy when he felt like it.

No, 25 would at some point simply disappear in the world of 0 and 1’s whereas Jewel would leave a few remains of some sort.

Not that it mattered. None of the people she cared about would be there. Her mother wouldn’t let them come to a funeral if there would even be one. Who knows? Maybe they would never learn of her death.

Nothing of that was important or certain though. Certain was just that Logan didn’t learn who 25 was. He should just be happy and safe in the VU. He should get a friend to whom he could vent about his amazing friends, which could get a little much or never truly understood what it felt like to feel the constant pressure of lacking money and perspective, like Logan did.

It was tragic and unfair. And yet, had it not been clear from the very beginning? Even before Jewel had met Leo, she had met Logan. Over a year ago in the debate club when they were paired off against each other. There she had seen that Logan was just so much better than her.

Yes, she might have won the debate, might have been a little more succinct, just a tad more charming. But no one in that room ever would try to go against Logan again, after he had roughly shut down stupid Kensington the II and his fan troupe. They had badmouthed him and a girl who also came from a low income family in a not very subtle way all during their first round of debates. Just after Logan and Jewel had finished up, Logan had stepped down and walked right up ahead to them. She never could grasp what it had been, how he could have done it, but for once in their life Kensington the II grew quiet with fear.

“Laura or Choi might defeat me when I stutter. But you won’t win against me when I’m black out drunk.”

Nothing else had to be said. Not a single other word was uttered about the incident and Logan won his second debate with flying colours.

How was Jewel supposed to keep up with that?

She cried into her pillow. Cried and cried as her little ice floe melted under her frozen legs and frostbitten hands. As she slowly got closer to the ice cold water until it hit her hard and rough as she knew it would. She cried and cried as the last little bit of her self curled tightly into itself and tried to not be washed out of her body.

It couldn’t hold on.

Jewel never could hold on.

___

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