#the bee is five pattern pieces for eleven fabric pieces

[tj-crochets]

Things I should be doing: finishing detective-izing the monkey or doing the ironing for the second quilt for the twins

What I’m doing instead: impulse making a purple bunny

[vincent-frankenstein]

Shatter

Chapter Twelve: I See Stars

Summary: Logic is a storm. He’s a furious fire, raging deep inside; thunder strong enough to tear the mindscape to pieces, lightning bright enough to take control. And the storm grows with each time he’s ignored or disregarded, each time his so-called “family” pushes him aside. This is a golden opportunity — how could Rage not take it?

When lightning strikes, Deceit is left to pick up the shattered pieces left behind. The light sides are the only ones who can stop Logic and take Rage off his throne, the only ones who can save Thomas. Deceit just has to fix the damage Logic wrought. He just has to bring back the light.

(And maybe, maybe fall in love with them in the process.)

Warnings: violence, manipulation, blood, corruption, sympathetic deceit, villain logan, swearing, dark side ocs, basically just logan and rage being ASSHOLES and hurting everyone including thomas

Pairings: eventual DAMP (starting with Roceit, then Moceit, and finally Anxceit)

{ Read on AO3 | Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Interlude | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven }

@dante1138 @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur @dealings-ofthe-raven @nerdypandastuff @sammy-the-eye @spirits-in-my-thoughts  @c0re0psis @just-a-baby-bee-witchblr @theultimatemomfriend @brownie-aunt (lmk if u wanna be added to/removed from the taglist!)

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Deceit had never really been in the Imagination before.

Sure, he’d bent his own corner of the mindscape to his will enough times that it, too, could be considered part of the Imagination, and he’d briefly visited on occasion when his dastardly plans called for it — but he’d never spent the time to really look, to exist in whatever fantastic place Roman had created. He’d always had a mission, a purpose, an end-goal too pressing to spend time smelling the roses or whatever.

But now… now he had time.

It didn’t take long after the sunset for Roman to fall asleep again, leaving Deceit alone in the silence once more. He tried, for a long time, to follow suit, but he couldn’t stop staring at Roman for long enough to actually sleep. Their conversation had been…

Well, it had been a lot of strange, confusing things that he did not have time to dwell on. His thoughts were already firing at a mile a minute — a swirl of that was fun, that was good, that was so much more than you’ve ever, ever had before — and he couldn’t quite get them to shut up. It didn’t help that his heart, the foolish, traitorous thing, seemed to have forgotten how to work without skipping a beat every time his gaze landed on Roman’s face.

He needed to get away, somehow. If only for a moment. But where could he go? There was no way down, and even if there was, he couldn’t leave without Roman. Without down, only up remained — so, after a few experimental stretches to test how well his leg had healed, his hoisted himself through the hole in the ceiling.

Things seemed… distant, up on the roof. Quiet. He couldn’t see the patchwork copy-paste pattern of the broken realm in the darkness of night, but the light of the stars washed over his skin, untangling the knot of worries that had taken up residence in his lungs. He let out a breath, dangling his legs over the edge, and tilted his head back.

He’d never been in the Imagination like this; quietly, softly, with nothing to do and nowhere to go. When everything had been fixed, he’d come back more often. See what wonders Roman could create when he wasn’t broken.

He shook his head, laughing humorlessly. No, no, that couldn’t happen. Roman’s tentative friendship — or whatever, whatever it was, this odd tangle of feelings and glances and thoughts he couldn’t stop — wouldn’t last any longer than it took to get him back to normal. He’d go back to being the Prince, heroic, chivalrous, brilliant in every sense of the word.

And Deceit? He’d go back to being the exact opposite of that.

His fingers tightened around the edge of the roof, and he narrowed his eyes. This was so… so foolish. He was a ruthless, manipulative bastard. These thoughts had no place in his head; he had no time for them, and he certainly didn’t have time to dwell on the aftermath, the reality hurtling towards him. It was what it was. There was no room for regret in his line of work.

He leaned backward, falling with a sigh onto the cold roof tiles. The sky above him twinkled with too many stars to name, shining through a sea of velvety black and washing the world in their cold light. He lifted a hand, lazily tracing his finger from star to star, carving out his own constellations when he couldn’t find any he knew. He looped a snake through the sky and called it his own, and in doing so felt a little less alone.

He hesitated, his hand curling and falling to his chest, an awful feeling lodging in his lungs. What would become of his real snakes while he was away? What if he never got back to them? As much as he hated to admit it, Logan was a formidable opponent. The damage he’d caused… how could Deceit ever expect to truly fix it? Sure, Roman might be easy — but Patton had never trusted him, not once, and he’d be a walk in the park compared to Virgil, who hated his guts. If he couldn’t restore the light sides to power, he couldn’t go home.

Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach. He looped a finger around the chain of his cloak and tugged nervously, panic spiking through his lungs. Admitting he was in over his head wasn’t something he did often, but…

But god, how in the name of lying was he supposed to manage this?

Deceit twisted his hand in the fabric of his shirt, trying — and failing, failing, failing — to step back from the thoughts buzzing like wasps in his mind. They weren’t his — he’d never, ever dwell this much on things so far beyond his control, he’d never doubt himself, he’d never hate himself so viscerally. It was simply the power of Insecurity’s realm.

Self-loathing sank like lead into his bones, weighing him down into the roof. Thoughts swirled through his mind — not good enough, they screamed with every frantic beat of his heart, not good enough, not good enough, not good not good not good — and he couldn’t keep them at bay, foolish as he knew they were. He didn’t need to be ‘good’ to get the job done. Besides, being good was stupid. Morally-gray villainy was far more fun.

Or, at least, it had been.

He sighed, eyebrows drawing together. These thoughts were not at all helpful. The power of Insecurity’s realm, coupled with the overwhelming goodness (ew) of the Light Side of the mindscape… it was almost too much for his wonderfully dreadful aesthetic to bear. A change of heart just did not work with the job he had to do.

Eyes slipping shut, he tried to breathe, forcing the insecure thoughts to quiet down. He pushed his usual thoughts back into place — dastardly schemes and suave one-liners and what sort of toys he could conjure for his precious baby snakes — and relaxed somewhat, a sense of normalcy returned. He could do this. He could do this, and keep his personality intact.

“Deceit?”

He jumped at the sudden voice, eyes flying open, heart kicking into overdrive. Roman peered at him through the darkness, his body halfway through the hole, his scale-freckles glimmering in the moonlight. Deceit placed a hand over his heart, shoving away the adrenaline racing through his veins.

“H-Hello, Roman,” he said, and inwardly screamed, because that was far too soft, what happened to maintaining an evil aesthetic? He shook away his thoughts, quirking a brow. “You shouldn’t be sleeping.”

Roman didn’t answer. He pulled himself onto the roof, wrapping his arms around himself as he sat beside Deceit. Deceit watched him for a moment, eyebrow still raised, head tilted as he waited for Roman to say something — but he just sat there, silent, face raised to the stars.

Deceit hesitated, a million words dying on his tongue. Quips, compliments, conversation starters… they all perished before they could live, in the face of a prince bathed in starlight. So instead he laid back down, and Roman followed suit, and for a long while all that could be heard was Roman’s shaky breathing and Deceit’s own frantic heartbeat.

He folded his hands across his stomach, and the quiet sank deep into his bones as his eyes roamed the heavens above. He stole glances at Roman whenever he was sure he wouldn’t be spotted, and each time came away more confused than before. Something stirred in his lungs — something fluttery and strange and really not enjoyable at all, like his chest had been infested with moths. He hated moths. Nasty little things.

“Did you design this sky?” he asked, after a long, long beat of silence, if only to have something to distract him from the moths. Roman blinked as if waking from a trance, brows furrowing.

“W-What?”

“Did you design this sky?” he asked again. “I was under the impression that you created everything in this realm.”

“I… No,” Roman said. “No, I-I didn’t make this place, I just, appeared here after —” His breath hitched in his throat and Deceit cursed himself to the wind. Sure, remind him of the disaster that got them into this mess in the first place, that was a good idea. He needed to change his tactics.

He lifted a gloved hand, tracing the stars with his fingertip. “That’s Salazar,” he said. “The snake.”

Roman’s gaze followed his finger, confusion swirling in his eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked, and Deceit smiled at the hint of curiosity in his voice.

“I’m not making my own constellations,” he said, never moving his gaze from the sky above them. Roman made a small, confused noise, and he continued. “If you didn’t design this magnificent view, then there are no set constellations. It is a clean slate. A… celestial game of connect-the-dots, if you will.”

He chanced a glance at Roman, and hope blossomed at the sight. A tiny hint of inspiration had broken through the gray clouds painted across Roman’s face, shining through his eyes like all the stars’ light had been gathered inside. “...Salazar?” he asked, after a moment’s hesitation, retracing the constellation with his gaze.

“Yes,” Deceit said. “Obviously, I hate snakes. I don’t have two waiting for me at home, and they don’t deserve to be immortalized in the sky.”

Roman stayed quiet for a moment, his gaze flicking to Deceit’s face and then back to the sky. Slowly, he lifted his hand. “What’s your other snake’s name.”

“Arbok.”

Roman’s hand moved carefully through the air, tracing from one star to the next, and Deceit followed his fingertip, watching as he wove a second snake into the sky beside the first. “Arbok and Salazar,” he said, “the twin snakes.”

“Very good, Roman,” Deceit said smoothly, pride blooming in his chest. Roman was creating! Perhaps bringing him back to normal wouldn’t be as difficult as he feared. “Shall we make more?”

It was slow going. Roman wasn’t exactly keen on sharing his ideas, wonderful though they were, and when he did, they weren’t quite what Deceit had been expecting. A mouse, a failed hero; ideas drowned in doubt, reflections of the prince’s own broken soul. He suggested a dragon with pain in his voice, and a jagged sword above it.

But however insecure his ideas were, they were ideas nonetheless, and Deceit counted that as a victory. Soon enough, he began to offer stories with the constellations. A unicorn who lost his way, and ended up trapped among the stars, became the centerpiece of their hand-woven sky. Deceit understood the significance. He didn’t mention it.

But then, Roman’s hand stilled in midair as he painted his own crest through the stars. His face darkened, eyebrows furrowing, fingers curling back towards his palm as he lowered his hand to his chest. He let out a long, shaking breath, and concern settled on Deceit’s face.

“Roman?” he asked, and Roman didn’t answer right away, his expression too heavy to read.

“...Why are you doing this?”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “I thought I already told you,” he said. “The sky is a blank slate here. We can —”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Roman said quickly. “I-I mean… why are you… helping me? Why would you put yourself in danger, and — and get yourself trapped here, just to help someone like me?”

Oh. Deceit paused, choosing his words carefully. Roman was vulnerable, open and afraid; however Deceit responded now had to assuage his worries rather than further them. “You’re a needed part of Thomas,” he said slowly, forcing truth into his words so they wouldn’t twist beyond his control. “I am here to restore the balance. It’s as simple as that.”

“But it’s not!” Roman said, wrapping his fingers around his sash and holding tight. “That — that can’t be it. You’re Deceit, you always have some ulterior motive. You’re a dark side! How do I know you’re not just working with Lo — with him, building me back up so he can destroy me all over again?”

Deceit scoffed. Leave it to the monochromatic prince to have such black-and-white thinking. “That idiot destroyed every ounce of balance in the mindscape. Seeing as keeping the balance is part of my job, I obviously couldn’t care less about it, and I’m not here to bring things back to normal.” He paused a moment, waiting, ensuring Roman untangled the true meaning of his words. “I wouldn’t work with him if my life depended on it. Trust me.”

“How can I?” Roman snapped. “How can I possibly — I mean, every interaction we had involved you manipulating me in some way! Every compliment back then was a lie! How is now any different? How can I trust anything you say?”

“Fine. Don’t trust me.” Deceit sat up, ignoring the way his chest squeezed at Roman’s words. “I don’t need your trust. I need your attention. Don’t trust me, but listen nonetheless. I would not have put myself through every trial of this hell without a worthy end-goal, and hurting you does not qualify as worthy. I would not have faced a fucking dragon for nothing! I am here to convince you of the truth — and that totally isn’t painful for me, by the way!”

Roman sat up too, a million emotions flashing across his face. “Truth is subjective,” he said. “Even if you are here because you think Thomas needs me, you’re wrong! If Thomas needed me, Logan wouldn’t have — he wouldn’t have —”

His voice broke, shattering into a million pieces between them. “Oh, is Logan a beacon of truth?” Deceit asked, raising an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that he was incapable of being wrong. My mistake.”

Roman shook his head, tears pooling in his eyes.

“Oh, wait, he is capable of being wrong! Logan did what he thought was right — what Rage convinced him was right. Obviously, that makes it truly right.” Deceit set his hand on the roof and leaned forward, and Roman leaned back, tear-filled eyes widening. “Thomas does need you. But that’s not the only reason I’m here. I am here because you’re a worthy, important part of the mindscape. Because you’re an incredible individual. Roman, I’m here because you’re a good person, and even I could see that you did not deserve what he did to you.”

He nearly choked on the bitterness of the truth coursing through his words, powerful enough that it hung in the air between them, buzzing in the silence that followed. Roman trembled, eyes wide, mouth agape, tears beginning to slide down his cheeks — he bit his lip, brows furrowing, grip tightening around his sash as he held it like a lifeline —

And then a sob burst from his mouth, shattered glass sparkling in the starlight, and he fell forward, burying his face in Deceit’s chest. Deceit froze, tensing at his touch, his breath hitching in his throat. He’d hugged Roman before. Why did this feel so different, so strange, so overwhelming?

Because this time, Roman had initiated it.

Error 404: Deceit.exe has stopped working. He stammered, his words lost in a sea of rushing thoughts, his arms hovering around Roman, hesitant to touch. He stared, eyes wide, barely even daring to breathe as Roman sobbed into his shirt.

“A-Ah —” He closed his mouth into a thin, unsure line, slowly lowering his arms to drape around Roman’s shoulders. He rubbed Roman’s back comfortingly, and the swarm of moths threatened to climb up his throat and spew out his feelings for all the world to see. “There… there?”

Roman made a strange, strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. His arms tightened around Deceit’s middle. They stayed like that for what seemed like forever — until Roman’s sobbing quieted down and he wasn’t shaking quite so much, until he was able to lift his head from Deceit’s chest and look at him.

“S-Sorry,” he said, his voice a barely-there whisper. Their faces were close — so close, too close and not close enough, and Deceit could see the flecks of bright gold swirled into the deep browns of Roman’s eyes and thought, rather foolishly, that he could easily drown in them. “I ruined your shirt.”

The realization hit him slowly, gently, and Deceit lifted a hand to cradle the side of Roman’s face, leaning in closer. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Roman leaned into the touch. “Your eyes are brown,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Your eyes are brown!” Deceit said, and his voice was full to bursting with hope. “You were completely black and white, Roman. Your eyes have color again!”

Roman lifted a hand to his eye, fingers gently brushing against the corner and coming away wet with tears. “T-They do?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

Deceit smiled. Brushing his thumb tenderly along Roman’s cheek, across the beautifully shining scales. “It means… you’re going to be alright,” he said, his voice ever-so-soft, and he knew then that he wasn’t a fool to think he could drown in Roman’s eyes, because no one, not even a devilishly evil fellow such as himself, could possibly withstand their power. “It means…”

And he froze, a new realization hitting him like a freight train. What was he doing? He drew his hand back, clearing his throat and turning away, and Roman jerked back, blinking like he’d just been broken from a trance. Deceit coughed, the human side of his face turning bright red.

“Right, well, ha —” He laughed awkwardly, scrambling to his feet. “We should! Get some sleep!”

Roman didn’t move. He scrubbed away his tears with his sleeve, tilting his head back towards the stars above. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his hand, tracing his finger through the stars. Deceit watched, following the pattern he traced.

In the center of the sky, Roman’s logo glowed.