#charatcter study
Text
Self-Contradiction
Summary: It's not exactly easy having to be Thomas' emotions and Thomas' morals at the same time.
…
It did not feel good when Thomas hated himself.
Patton was the heart, he got the brunt of it, and it sucked. That wasn’t to say that it didn’t affect the other sides too. Virgil got more anxious about when people were going to notice how awful Thomas was and leave him. Logan found it more difficult to make Thomas listen to him and listen to reason, and that made him frustrated, which often made things worse. Roman, who was the ego and got hit harder by this like Patton did, lost his confidence and it was more difficult to do any other parts of his job too.
But Patton felt it when Thomas hated himself, a constant thrumming shame in the background, and sometimes in the foreground, that made it feel like nothing would be okay ever again. That clearly Thomas was wrong, all the time, about everything, because he was just the worst. The feeling touched every other feeling Patton had, made them worse if they were bad, seem fleeting if they were good. It made Patton want to lay in bed until the world swallowed them all whole, and on the worst days, that felt like everything they deserved.
This… this wasn’t a worst day. There had been times where everything felt heavier than it did right now. Patton could breathe. It just didn’t feel like there was much point to it. He wasn’t surprised when no one came to knock on his door. Everyone else had to be having just as crummy of a day as he was, of course no one had space for his stupid problems.
He was planning on curling up and spending the day in bed while feeling bad for spending the day in bed, but at about 10 in the morning he felt the presence of someone rising up behind him.
“Good morning, Patton. Though it doesn’t seem like you’re having one.”
Patton didn’t bother trying to move, which didn’t help with the shame problem. Someone had come to visit him, and he couldn’t even show them the courtesy of looking at them?
“Hi, Janus,” Patton mumbled.
“Are you alright?” Janus murmured. Patton felt his weight shift the bed as he sat down.
“Do I look alright?” Patton grumbled, and then he winced. “Sorry.”
“I wasn’t asking because I was unsure, I was inviting you to talk about it, sweetheart,” Janus murmured, and Patton felt his hand start rubbing his back.
With that, he finally moved. He shifted away. “Don’t do that.”
“Alright,” Janus said, and the hand didn’t reappear. “Can I ask why?”
Patton didn’t say anything.
“Patton?”
“Don’t deserve it,” Patton mumbled. “Not today.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Janus stood up and walked around the side of his bed. Eventually, his face swam into view, looking concerned.
“Patton, what’s wrong?” he asked.
Patton didn’t say anything.
“Do you not know?”
Patton shook his head, rubbing against the sheets. “I know.”
“Do you not want to tell me?”
Patton didn’t say anything.
“That’s alright,” Janus said. “But comfort isn’t about ‘deserve,’ Patton. I would have assumed you knew that.”
Patton shook his head, rubbing against the sheets again. “No, they don’t have to earn it, but I have to earn it. Today.”
“Oh,” Janus said, crossing his arms and looked unamused. “And why is that?”
Patton didn’t say anything.
“Patton.”
Patton closed his eyes against tears welling up. “Because I’m being mean to myself,” he whispered.
Janus hummed in acknowledgement. “Can I be nice to you then?”
Patton nodded weakly. “Please?” he whispered.
A second later he felt a hand start running through his hair, and Patton leaned into the touch.
“‘M sorry,” Patton muttered. “You’re probably not feeling good either.”
There was a pause.
“I’m… not doing spectacular today,” Janus admitted. “But you definitely don’t seem to be doing worse.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not a judgment, sweetheart.”
Patton moved his head so Janus’ hand was cupping his cheek. Janus seemed to catch on and started rubbing his thumb across Patton’s cheek.
“Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?” Janus asked. “Either way is alright.”
Patton didn’t say anything for a minute.
“Nothing’s ever going to change,” he whispered finally.
Janus’ hand stilled. “That doesn’t sound very hopeful, coming from you,” he said.
“Well, you want me to be hopeless anyway, don’t you?”
Janus’ hand disappeared for a second, before cupping Patton’s cheek again. “Why would I want that, Patton? That’s not a good thing.”
Patton opened his eyes to see Janus looking down at him, seeming very concerned.
Patton looked at him a minute longer. “Do you actually think I’m good for something, Janus?” he asked.
Janus’ eyes widened in alarm. “What?”
“I mean, I’m just the stupid heart who leads Thomas astray, right?” Patton asked, looking down at the bed sheets again. “And his stupid morals that never let him focus on himself, like you want. If— if Thomas hates himself, then I feel awful because it feels bad. But then when he tries to love himself, I feel awful because it feels wrong. Whose stupid idea was it to give his emotions and his morals to the same side anyway?” Patton pressed his head into his arms and finally started crying.
After a second, Janus started running his hand through Patton’s hair again.
He stayed there until Patton stopped crying, though Patton didn’t really feel any better after the supposed emotional release.
Janus cupped Patton’s cheek again and lifted it towards him so Patton could see his face.
“Of course,” Janus said firmly, “you are good for something, Patton.”
Patton looked away.
“You are Thomas’ emotions,” Janus said. “You allow him to feel everything he needs to, good and bad. And your morals allow Thomas to recognize how to do good in the world, which he wants. It’s okay to want that, Patton.”
“Really? Because today both of those things are just making me miserable.”
“Thomas has a lot to work on,” Janus said, running his hands through Patton’s hair again. “That’s okay. You are crucial, Patton. And I do not want you to be hopeless. Your job is to help Thomas see the good in the world and feel good about it. That’s important to him, and it’s a good thing. You’re a good thing, Patton. Please believe me when I say I mean that.”
Patton reached up and pulled Janus’ hand down to cup his cheek again, and Janus obliged.
“I know,” he murmured after a second. “I know I’m important.”
“Today’s just bad?” Janus asked.
Patton shakes his head on instinct. “I’ve had worse.”
“Oh? When was that?”
Patton leans heavily into Janus’ hand. “When Thomas thought being gay was wrong,” he said quietly. “That… that was worse.”
“Mm. And so of course you’re certainly not allowed to feel bad unless things get to that point again. That is the only time you’re allowed to have a crummy day.”
Patton smiled, just a little.
“Hey Janus?” he asked after a second.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Janus said.
“You’re allowed to have a crummy day too,” Patton said. “Even if you’re not feeling as bad as I am.”
“I know,” Janus said. “I’m not saying that. I am telling you not to worry about me, Patton.”
Patton didn’t say anything.
“Patton?”
“Come snuggle with me?” Patton whispered, because he had a feeling that would make them both feel better.
Janus was quiet for a moment, and then he nodded, and pulled the covers back. He leaned back against the headboard and gently pulled Patton to his side, starting to run his hands through his hair again.
“You don’t want to get into something more comfortable than your usual clothes?” Patton asked, giving Janus a curious look. “And you can lay down if you want.”
“Baby steps,” Janus said stiffly, which was when Patton realized how uncomfortable he looked sitting there.
“Wait, you— you don’t have to stay here just to make me feel better,” Patton said.
“I’m not,” Janus said. “Just— baby steps.”
Patton nodded. “Okay.”
So they both stayed there and felt crummy together. And if things didn’t feel better, at least they weren’t alone.
#sanders sides#patton sanders#janus sanders#moceit#platonic moceit#platonic or romantic#you decide#patton sanders angst#janus sanders angst#character thomas needs therapy okay#charatcter study#my fic
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Only Thing
Summary: "I spent so many nights in that shitty prison on that freezing floor, hungry, bloody, counting the hours. The only thing, the only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you."
Author’s Note: I wrote something for @arcanefandomweek’s Arcane Anniversary event! I hope you enjoy!
There were nights Vi couldn’t sleep out to guilt. Where there was nothing she could do other than lay on the ground of her cell and stare up at the ceiling and try not to drown. Drowning had never exactly been something she’d had to worry about before, living in The Lanes. She couldn’t think of many people she knew who lived in the undercity and had to deal with near-death drowning experiences. There wasn’t a ton of water to be found. And if this was how it felt, Vi could almost say she was relieved.
It was after lights out, so it was quiet. It almost would have been peaceful if not for the weight that pressed down on her chest, choking her.
Sometimes, if she was lucky, she could blame it on the hunger, or the injuries littering her from whatever fight or beating she’d gotten that day. The worst nights, though, were the ones where she was laying there with a full stomach and a bruise-free body. Then she had nothing to blame for the empty chasm inside of her, trying to push her down.
It wasn’t only on these nights that she thought of Powder, but it was most prominent on these nights. She needed something to keep her going, and the thought of getting back to her sister was all that she had left.
This was often a double-edged sword, however, because thinking of her sister made her think of Vander, made her think of “Take care of Powder,” made her think about how she’d left, ran, left Powder alone.
Left her alone with Silco, where she could very well be—
Vi couldn’t linger on that thought for too long. She’d have nothing left if she accepted how probable it was.
Instead, she laid there on the floor, shivering, repeating Powder’s name like a mantra in her head until she finally drifted into unconsciousness.
She’d wake the next morning when the lights snapped on, drag herself off the floor, and roll her shoulders out. Breakfast was her favorite time of day to get into fights, banish the remnants of nightmares from her head. Especially on days she woke up feeling alright. She couldn’t really take two nights in a row of being physically sound.
She’ll be okay, she lied to herself as the guards approached. You’re going to make it back to her someday, and you’re going to make sure she’s okay.
She didn’t know what she’d do otherwise.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Wrong Way To Solve Your Problems
Summary: Vander reflects on how much Vi is beginning to enjoy fighting.
It did not take long for Vander to start worrying about Vi.
The girl reminded him so much of himself, and from the moment he took her and her younger sister back to The Last Drop, she had the fighting spirit he’d promised himself he’d leave behind from then on.
She started going to practice during the daylight hours, in a hole in the wall she’d found. It had a game of sorts that let her practice her punches, one she’d taken quite a liking to. Vander always told her to make it home before dinner, as The Lanes after dark were no place for a kid. She always did. That didn’t mean he stopped worrying.
She was getting very good at fighting very quickly, and Vander wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t make him nervous. Her sister Powder was too young to go off and practice along with her, but that didn’t mean there weren’t sparkles in her eyes every time Vi came home.
Vander wasn’t going to outright discourage Vi knowing how to fight. That wouldn’t be a smart idea. Once she got a little older, it wasn’t unlikely she’d be jumped from time to time by someone looking for money, or food. Knowing how to defend herself would be crucial. But there was a difference between defending yourself when you had to and using your fists to solve all your problems. It was a difference Vander wasn’t sure Vi was learning.
But between building a community in the Undercity from the ruins of the war and trying to broker a peace deal with Grayson, Vander didn’t have as much time as he liked to try and teach it to her. The addition of Mylo and Clagger as both more mouths to feed and more kids to worry about on a daily basis didn’t help things.
Well, if Vander had anything to say about it, everything would settle down with time. He’d build a peace with Piltover and an Undercity community with his bare hands, and then he could have time to teach Vi the problems that arose with coming home with bloody knuckles.
Until then, he’d settle for patching her up when she did.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Clear Skies
Summary: Pepa wants to be there for people. It’s just that she usually only makes things worse.
Pepa was very good at controlling her own emotions. She had to be, when getting too stressed could result in hurricanes that put people in danger and caused massive property damage. Fortunately, that kind of thing only happened when she was a total mess. She wouldn’t cause a hurricane if she was just somewhat anxious, the worst would often be a small thunderstorm.
That didn’t mean those wouldn’t bring problems of their own, though. Clear skies were best for everyone most of the time. Rain might have been a necessary part of life, but it couldn’t be a necessary part of Pepa’s. If people needed her to be happy, she’d have to be happy.
Her Félix didn’t seem to like that mindset, though. He encouraged her all the time to feel whatever it was that she was feeling, and not try to bury any of her emotions.
Pepa found that easier to do with Félix, since he was so open and encouraging about it. Whenever they were in her room together, she felt it easy to let go and feel whatever was coming. Oftentimes that resulted in a large rant of everything that had been bothering her up until that moment, but Félix never seemed to mind.
Pepa worried sometimes that she was leaning on him too much without offering anything in return, but Félix reassured her this wasn’t the case when she brought it up. If he did have a problem he needed support with, he said he would come to her. Pepa hoped that he meant it when he said that. She was going to take him at his word.
It honestly probably felt like more of an issue to her because, well, she wanted to be able to support people, especially her family. It was just that when she tried, the most common result was that she got them wet. She tried so hard to show her love for them, but unless it came in the form of overwhelming happiness and rainbows, it mostly just made things worse.
That was why she often showed most of her love when she was proud. It’s not like that was uncommon. Her family, and especially her children often filled her with enough pride to banish any clouds that could have shown up.
It just meant that when clouds did happen to form, she needed to get rid of them as quickly as possible. And when someone needed support, it was usually Félix that stepped in. She’d long accepted that she just wouldn’t be very good at it. She caused too many problems, and that was fine. She could show her care for her family through joy.
Clear skies were better for everyone, after all.
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
Everything Is Perfect
Summary: Isabela knows she should be happy about Mariano's coming proposal. This is exactly what she's supposed to want. So why can't she seem to stop dreading it?
Isabela did not like Mariano. She did not want to marry him. She would do so for her family’s sake, so Abeula would be happy, so there could be a new generation of Madrigal blessings, like she wanted. Although a part of her still shuddered at the thought. Five babies, was he serious?
Really though, in the end whether or not she liked Mariano was not important. What was more important was the fact that she didn’t dislike Mariano.
He was sweet, he was thoughtful. He was not bad looking. Her friendship with him was fairly genuine, and she didn’t mind his company in the slightest. She could spend her life with him, she’d be fine. She’d have everyone’s approval, she’d have the company of… someone she didn’t mind… every day of her life.
She’d make her family happy! That, she wanted. The way Abuela would smile when things went perfectly, the way her parents would be happy that she was… well.
Isabela sighed, and leaned back on her hands, looking up at her ceiling from her bed. Maybe if she stayed in here forever she’d never have to go to dinner and get proposed to.
Not that she knew what she’d do instead. Stay in here forever and grow perfectly lovely ordinary flowers? Practice her poses? Run off into the forest again to look for different kinds of plants that she’d never be able to grow?
Isabela shook herself. She’d be fine. This was perfect. Mariano was perfect. They were the perfect couple, everyone else said so. She’d be perfectly fine marrying Mariano. Besides… besides, Tío Bruno had said she’d have the life of her dreams. And this was her life, so it must be what she dreamed about.
Isabela winced. That made perfect sense.
She turned to face the doorway. Mariano would be arriving soon. Everyone would be expecting her out there.
Isabela climbed off her bed and started for the door. She had some flowers in mind she wanted to grow for dinner.
She stopped just before she reached the door and squeezed her eyes shut.
I know this is probably the life I’ll be stuck with, she thought, knowing better than to voice her displeasure out loud in case Dolores was listening. I know that there’s probably no way out of it. But please. Somehow, if there’s a way to ruin this proposal to the point that Mariano never wants to talk to me again, please someone do it.
Isabela sighed and opened the door. She shouldn’t think that way. This would make everyone so happy. It was perfect, so it was what she wanted. Everything is perfect.
Everything is going to be perfect.
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Time To Leave
Summary: Bruno looked into the future after Mirabel's gift ceremony, and he really wishes he hadn't.
Bruno hadn’t wanted to do this, and as he stared at the vision of Casita crumbling and his sobrina, all grown up, at the center of it all, he wished he’d pushed harder against his Mamá asking.
She had just looked so scared, and Bruno couldn’t help but want to do something when any of his family was hurt or scared. But if this was the result…
Bruno looked down at the vision tablet, trying to quiet any of the rushing thoughts in his head.
He knew what they would think, what this vision would mean for his sobrina. He couldn’t imagine the difficulties she had in front of her already, this would just add on to that.
Bruno felt a spark of anger. That was completely unfair. How could they blame her for something she hadn’t done yet, for something that might not happen at all, based on the odd nature of this vision.
But that’s what would happen. It wouldn’t matter that Mirabel hadn’t done anything wrong. It wouldn’t matter that this vision was undecided. It wouldn’t matter that it was his vision and he would do everything he could to shoulder the blame himself. Mirabel would be blamed. She would get hurt. She would have to deal with things that a child should never have to deal with.
There was only one way to make sure none of that happened, and that was to make sure that no one else ever learned of this vision.
Bruno dropped the vision tablet directly onto the rock below him, watching as it shattered into pieces and started to be covered by sand. He stayed just long enough to make sure the pieces wouldn’t be able to be found before he left his vision cave.
He walked across the bridge that connected his cave to the stairs, and looked back at it. The most sure way of making sure no one could get to his vision cave would be to destroy that bridge. It was sandstone, it couldn’t be that hard to break.
Sure enough, he found a relatively large rock nearby that broke the bridge after only a couple hits to it. It didn’t crumble all the way across, but enough that people wouldn’t feel safe enough jumping, and Bruno suspected it would crumble more overtime.
And now for the hardest part. He might not have been getting along with his family for a long time, but that didn’t mean he’d ever considered leaving them. At least, not until now. But if it would protect his sobrina, he would do it.
…He just had no idea where he would go.
The tiles under his feet shook, and Bruno looked down at them to see Casita shift more tiles, clearly leading in a specific direction.
Bruno followed until he reached a painting, which Casita swung away from the wall. Then, as he watched, Casita hollowed out a hole, and when it stopped widening, there was a space that looked like it stretched back a long ways.
Bruno looked down at the sound of more tiles to find Casita gesturing towards the hole.
Bruno swallowed. It would be a way to keep an eye on his family, and his sobrina. And he wasn’t sure if he could stomach the thought of leaving them completely.
“Thank you,” Bruno whispered to Casita, who lifted her tiles one more time in acknowledgement as Bruno climbed in through the hole.
He gave one last glance to Casita and the doors behind which his family slept, and then pulled the picture shut behind him.
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Benefits of Listening
Summary: Dolores’ gift can be frustrating, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate it.
Dolores had learned very young how to tune things out. She wouldn’t have ever been able to focus on anything else otherwise. At least her room was soundproof, which is why she could often be found there if she needed to calm down or breathe.
She couldn’t stay in her room all the time, though, and so had learned how to hone her gift to create more of a background hum than a constant distraction. If she wanted to hear something specifically, she could always focus on the thing in question, after all.
As a result, she often didn’t use her gift directly unless someone asked, it was just too stressful otherwise.
That wasn’t to mean she disliked her gift. She had always enjoyed knowing what was going on, and there were things her gift brought her that she wouldn’t trade for anything. She knew her Tío Bruno was here, and safe, and she could sneak him food if he was ever unable to get out to the kitchen. Everyone said they didn’t want to talk about him, and had shut her down the few times she’d tried, but now if anyone ever asked she would have an answer.
Her gift had also helped her to get to know Mariano. She’d hated the fact that Isabela got to marry him from the second she’d learned it was happening. Mariano was such a caring and kind person, who had so much love that he wanted to give, but Isabela never recognized that. She didn’t know him, didn’t hear him. She never listened.
But that was a little unfair. Dolores had learned long ago that no one tried to listen, not really. Everyone went about their days without considering that everyone else was going through things just like they were. When people asked “How are you?” they didn’t really want an answer. But Dolores knew what the answer really was. She always knew.
That, she would thank her gift for. The ability to understand that really, no one had it figured out. That everyone was trying to get through life the way they thought best. The context her gift gave her. She would thank her gift for her Tío Bruno, for the way that it had helped her truly hear Mariano, despite all the ways it hurt.
She still hid away in her room when she needed silence, of course. She still lowered her voice when she spoke, because everyone else was already being so loud and she wasn’t going to make it worse for herself. She still barely stopped herself from glaring at Isabela whenever she talked like she knew Mariano. She still wanted to go find her Mamá and her Tía Julieta and tell them that their brother missed them, and could they please talk about him just this once.
But therein lay the main problem with her gift, she supposed. Things couldn’t be solved if you were the only one listening.
14 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
filmreviewsbyjosh-blog
Joshua Mathers
enchantingstudentflowerfriend
Untitled
aetris
Ætris
ahskp
🫧DESTINY🫧
liephillipss
Lie Phillips