#made them a bit more cat like than I intended in this but I'll fix that in the future

[joltrify]

(In a very american accent) Esas Crituras >:)

#the fact that I've only drawn rook like 3 times should be a crime... should probably fix that ;w; #also debuting my version of the andalites! #when I was younger I intentionally skipped the books that had ax on them because I thought he looked scary #WHAT A FOOL I WAS! #made them a bit more cat like than I intended in this but I'll fix that in the future #:) #art #digital art #doodles #doodle dump #fanart #ben 10 fanart #ben 10 #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 rook #rook blonko #ben 10 aliens #upchuck #big chill #waterhazard #NRG #stinkfly #animorphs #animorphs fanart #andalite #animorphs reread #end my suffering

[poke-me-with-a-stick]

Chapter 31 of 'Artificial Wingman!'

for the entire story, click Here!

Enjoy!

---

Jason eyed Danny from his position on the couch, pretending to be completely engrossed in his book. Ever since the other morning, the teen had been acting... weird. At least, weirder than normal.

It had started when Jason had got up the day prior. As per usual after a gruling patrol, after breakfast and a shower, he had passed out as soon as his head touched the pillow, and stayed asleep until the sun was just an hour or two from setting. He probably would have slept in longer, but his stomach had made it's need for food known, and his bladder wasn't too happy with him either.

When he walked into the kitchen, intending to put together the world's greatest sandwich to tame his hunger, he had come in to the sight of the Demon brat and Jazz fast asleep, Jazz curled up like a content cat in the arm chair and Damien sprawled ungracefully on the couch. Both had been covered in throw blankets, and a Disney movie played on in the background. The only person not asleep had been Danny, who on first glance seemed to be back to working on his gun. And Jason would have left it at that, if not for the teen seeming to panic as he walked into the kitchen.

He had startled, flailed a bit as he whirled around to face the man. The gun had been hastily shoved under a pillow, out of Jason's line of sight. "Heeeey," The kid had drawled, his midwestern accent making the word roll off his tongue naturally. "I, uh. Didn't hear you get up?"

"...Okay?" Jason had raised an eyebrow at the teen, still not awake enough to deal with whatever was going on with him. "I got hungry. It's almost dinner time." He pointed out, his tone dry.

"It is?" Danny blinked owlishly at him before looking at the time. "Huh, I guess it is."

Jason couldn't help but smirk at the kid. "What, to absorbed in your work or something?"

It was meant to be  a joke, just some light ribbing that was natural between him and his friends and family. Instead of laughing or rolling his eyes, like Jason was used to, the teen seemed to grow tense. His eyes drifted to the wall above Jason's shoulder, obviously trying not to look directly at the man, as he tried to laugh it off. "Me? Absorbed in my work? Psh, nah! I would never! Haha..." his laugh was audibly strained.

An awkward silence fell between them, Jason staring as the teen figited in place. "Uh-huh. Right, okay." Jason had to force himself to break the silence. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starved. How's about you wake those two up, and I'll make us all some sandwiches?" He had barely finished talking before Danny nodded enthusiastically, practiacally leaping to wake the others in the room.

Jason didn't mention Danny's weird behavior to either his sister or Damien, but he couldn't let it go either. And the more he observed the teen, the more he was convinced that Danny was hiding something.

That led to now. With Jason's face half-burried in his book and Danny fiddling with the gun's casing. Fiddling, not actually doing anything besides screwing and unscrewing the screws that fixed everything together. Every few minutes, he would put down his weird glowing screwdriver and pass his hand over the odd glass beakers on the back, almost as if checking for a change in them. Jason was left to assume he didn't find what he was looking for, as he would flip the gun and pick up his screwdriver again and repeat the process.

Finally, Jason had had enough. He closed his book and set it aside with an overly loud sigh. Just like he knew it would, his movement drew Danny's attention immediatly. "Okay, I can't stand this anymore." Jason let the exasperation leak into his tone and he stood from his arm chair, only to walk a few feet and flop down next to the teenager.

Danny let out a startled half-chirp, half-wheeze sound that shouldn't be possible for human vocal cords, quickly shoving the gun under the nearest pillow. "W-what do you need?" He asked, clearly trying for casual.

Jason shot him a look, one that conveyed just how much Danny wasn't fooling him. "What I need," Jason began, "Is for you to tell me what the Hell is going on with you. You've been acting off since yesterday, and I want to know why."

"Nothing is going on!" The teen answers, a little too quickly. He looked away from Jason, his eyes going his hands. It was way too obvious that he was lying. 'We definatly have to work on that,' Jason couldn't help but think, frowning at him.

Sitting up, Jason sighed. "Yeah, alright. The thing is, you see, when you look away like that, it makes it kinda obvious that you're lying to me." The teen jerked his gaze back to Jason's immediatly, swallowing hard as he met the deceptivally relaxed facade that the man wore. "Now that I have your attention, lets try this again. What happened between  yesterday morning and now that has you so..." He trailed off as he tried to think of the word to descripe the teen. "...Paranoid?"

Danny seemed to hesitate, guilt shining through his unnaturally blue eyes. "I-" He stopped, as if searching for the words. Sighing, he seemed to deflate in defeat. "I've been lying about something." He admitted, his voice quiet.

Caution rose steadily in Jason. "Lied about what?" Had he lied about his feelings? Or maybe the potion? Was this about the 'cure' they seemed to have? Or maybe the original Love Potion? Jason's mind ran wild with thoughts and theories. "Is it something to do with you and Da- I mean, Robin?"

The teen seemed to sense the double meaning to the seemingly innocent words. "No!" He shook his head frantically. "No, no no! Nothing like that, I promise!" His assurences, despite the desperation in how he expressed them, seemed genuine enough.

A small sigh of relief escaped him as he nodded at the teen. "Okay, not to do with that. Then, what is it?" His suspision fell back to the gun, stashed not even a foot from him. "Does it have to do with that?" He gestured to the weapon, where it barely peeked out from the cushion.

The halfa's flinch was all the comformation he needed. "Y-yeah." He mumbled, his head dropping in shame.

"Is there something wrong with it?" God, Jason hoped not. The kid was the only one who seemed to understand how it functioned. Heck the only person that Jason could think of that might be able to help would be Tim, and that was if he didn't have an anrism at the spare parts that were used to make the damned thing.

"No, there's nothing wrong with it." Danny chuckled sheepishly as he reassured the man, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck nervously. "The opposite, actually. It's, um..." His other hand came up in a slighly aborted gesture. "It's fixed. Tada?"

Relief that he didn't have to try and understand whatever rocket science went into that abomnible creation temperarily stopped him from realising the full impact of the teen's words. "It's...fixed?" The teen nodded, not looking at him. "Like, fully functional and ready to use?"

"Well..." Danny's hand fell from his neck as his other came up in a so-so gesture. "It's functional, but it can't be used yet." Finally, the teen's head came up, though he still refused to look Jason in the eye. "It has no energy to function yet, so it's in power-collection mode, I guess." Turning slightly, the halfa pulls the gun from under the pillow, handing it to Jason for a closer inspection.

"So, it's fixed, but you can't use it yet?" He turned the gun this way and that, examining the Sci-fy weapon for anything odd. Well, odd-er than a gun that's soul purpose was to shoot a hole in the fabric of space and time.

"Nope. It's basically like a toy without it's batteries. It's cool, and fun to goof off with, but it doesn't do any of the things it's supposed to." His fingers grazed over the glass tubes on the back. "It'll take a few days for it to absorb the needed ecto for us to get home, so it's basically just a waiting game." As he spoke, a slight green sheen formed along the glass's surface, seemingly following the motion of his hand. When Danny pulled his hand back, the glow faded, but didn't disappear.

Satisfied, Jason handed the gun back to the teen. "Okay, so it's fixed. Why does that have you acting all weird?" It didn't make much sense. The whole reason they came here, to one of his more secret safehouses, was so that Danny could fix his gun. Why would he try and hide the fact that it was done, charging up and safe to use?

Obviously, Danny thought the answer was more than obvious. "Your serious?" He asked, his face screaming his disbelief. "You can't think of the one reason I wouldn't want to tell everyone?" When Jason shook his head, Danny let out a shocked giggle. It faded a bit into a whine of distress, making Jason eye the kid worriedly.

Before he could try and comfort the kid, as awkward and stilted as it would be, he spoke up. "If mine and Jazz's way home is ready to go, then what excuse do I have to stay?" The words were whispered, and wouldn't have been audible if Jason hadn't been right beside him.

The words struck him like a wooden plank to the head. Of course, how dumb could he be? Of course the kid would see it like that, like the only reason he was there to begin with was because he had no way home. To suddenly have a way home again? Why would he stay? He had no reason for remaining in this dimension. No reason, other than the fact that he was falling in love. But someone like the kid, like Danny, wouldn't see it that way. Especially if he still thought that Damien's feelings were purely caused by that potion.

Jason bit back a curse. Shook his head. Now was not the time to figure out the thought process the teen had gone through. Not when he was actively curling in on himself. Jason got the feeling that the kid hadn't really processed what completing the gun meant either. He knew what it meant, obviously, but it hadn't sunken in until his hand had been forced. Until he'd had to say the words out loud. The look of desperation and despair and acceptance on his face was heartwrentching to look at.

"Y'know, you don't necessarily have to have a reason to stay." Jason pointed out, speaking in a hushed voice.

"What do you mean? Of course I have to have a reason!" Danny turned to look at Jason again. "If I don't have a reason, that means I have to leave. I have responsibilities, a home, a life! I can't just up and disappear without having some sort of excuse for it! People would be worried, or want to know where I was!"

And that was the root of the problem, Jason realized suddenly. It wasn't that Danny thought he needed a reason to stay, it was that he needed to justify his absence to others. "Danny," without meaning to, Jason's voice softened, something that ususally only happened when comforting small alley children. "You don't have to justify yourself to anyone. If you want to stay longer, then you can. No one would blame you for it, and if they did, then they shouldn't be important to you anyways."

Danny huffed out a laugh. "I know that," He admitted. "I know I don't have to have a reason. But it just feels..." His words tapered off as he tried to think of what to say. Groaning, he burried his face in his hands.

"It feels wrong, because you think it's selfish."

"Well, yeah. It is selfish, isn't it? Because first I was staying because I didn't have a way home, and then it was because Robin needed my help with the potion's effects. But the cure is done and ready for Robin to take, and I have my way home charging up as we speak. The next step should be to just... go home." His hand rested on his chest, gripping tightly at his shirt. "But it, it hurts to even think of leaving. The thought of leaving Robin behind, or Robin taking the cure and me being right? It makes my core ache."

Jason could tell the teen wasn't really paying attention to just what he was admitting. The confusion on his face as he basically poured his heart out, the way he clutched at his chest as if the pain he felt was phyiscally effecting him. It took everything Jason had not to smile as he realized just how far the teen had fallen for his demon of a younger brother.

'It's like he came straight out of a Young Adult romance novel.' The thought, while true, was not helpful in the moment. Instead of bemoaning that his younger brother got to live the fantasy, he tried to think about what would get through to the kid.

Jason wasn't the best at comforting people in dire situations, he was basically flying blind here. Talking out feelings was not any of his families strong suits. But listening to this scrawny adoption bait practically wax poetica about his little brother, the one everyone was sure would either end up filling the mansion with cats, or marrying Jon, because of poor social skills(a distinct lack of interest in pointless civilian matters), made him search through all his people skills for the right thing to say.

"You know, you don't have to stay gone." That was part of the problem, right? Danny didn't want to leave Damian and never see him again.

"...what?" The confusion broke through the heartbreaking agony that the kid had been wallowing in.

"Yeah, you've got that gun fixed, at least enough to get back home. What's stopping you from coming back?" The panic and pain faded from the kid's face for a moment, before returning.

"But what if I'm right, and the potion works? Would Robin even still want to see me again?" The teen pulled his knees to his chest, tucking his feet beneath him and burying his face in his knees. "I know that after the love spell that made me fall in love with Sa- I mean, one of my friends, things were super akward between us. Would he still want to hang out around me?" If the kid didn't have density shifting powers, then Jason would be sure he coulnd't shove his face any further into his knees. He winced in sympathy, knowing that the kid would feel the imprints of his jeans later.

"Well, that sounds like a lot of 'What if's' again, kid." He decided that he'd question that 'Love Spell' bit later. Right now, he had to pull this kid's head out of his own doubts. "And we did talk about that already, didn't we?" Danny made a relunctant sound of agreement. "Right. So what changed? What made that conversation fly out of your head?"

"..." Danny was silent, his chest barely rising as Jason waited for an answer. Finally, a noise barely above a whisper, so quiet that Jason almost missed it. "I don't know."

"You... don't know what brought on all these thoughts?" The man tried to gently press the teen to think about it more. "There must have been something that made you spiral, right? It's not just about Robin not wanting to be around you, is it?" Danny hesitantly lifted his head, side eyeing Jason as he continued to prod. "And it can't be because your scared of what people would think of you. No offence, but you seem more of the 'doing things regardless' type."

"...well, I did mention that thing about my core, right?" The teen brought up hesitantly.

"Yeah, you did." Jason remembered. "The way you talked about it, you made it sound like it was your heart or something."

Danny laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, something like that." The teen sighed, uncurling slightly. "Okay, so to just call a core a heart is a massive understatement. A core is... like a heart and a brain and an immune system and a filter all in one." Jason couldn't help but blink blankly at the teen, his brain trying to process the amalgamation of words that he used to describe whatever a 'core' was.

When he felt like he had a handle on it, he nodded for the teen to continue. "So, cores do all these things for ghosts that the human body does for normal people. It's super important, and if anything happens to the core, it can hurt or even destabilize a ghost, which is basically like a more painful second death, one where you fade from the world instead of existing as a different entity." Jason nodded, focusing more on the core thing than the teen infront of him hinting at dying at some point.

"But it's not just physical injuries you have to look out for. Ghosts are emotional beings. My parents think that ghosts are just emotions imprinted on ectoplasm, not thinking or feeling being. They only got one thing right in all of that." The agony had faded from the teen's face finally, and in it's place, an intense focus as he tried to explain. Jason was counting it as a temporary win.

"So ghost are made of emotion?" It was the only thing that could make sense out of all of that, if only one part was right.

Danny snapped his finger and pointed at the man. "Got it in one. Ghosts are born from ectoplasm rich areas and an intense emotional output upon death. Smaller, less sentient ghosts that are born from emotions imprinting on ectoplasm without a death are blob ghosts."

"Blob ghosts?" Jason asked.

"They have a more technical name that Frostbite uses, but I usually just call the blob ghosts. 'Cause they're litteral blobs with faces that float around. They actually have an important job, keeping ectoplasm from getting stale or too thin in places close to portals and such..." The halfa physically shook his head, black hair fluffing up in a small cloud before settling messily again. "That's something I'll get into later. I was talking about cores."

"Right. Cores, something about... emotions?" The man leaned forwards a bit, resting his elbow on his knee as he reminded the teen where he had diverged from the original topic.

"Oh! Thanks. So, ghosts are made partially from emotion. We have obsession, things that we liked in life, or bring forth a particullarly strong emotional responce. Like, I have two, a main one and a passive one. Both are really good at bringing up emotions like contenment and excitment, which helps to generate ectoplasm and feeds my core. Because I'm half human, I don't have to rely on just my obsessions or the 'Zone to keep my core running. But just as much as emotions feed ghosts, the wrong emotion can hurt them. Things like rejection have to be handled delicatly, or you risk a core cracking. And ghosts being emotional being, we tend to get... attached, pretty easily. Even when we try not to." The kid let out a bitter laugh, running his hand through his hair.

"Wow. That's, uh. Definatly a lot to take in." Jason leaned away from the teen a bit. "Okay, so we should probably do a 'Ghosts 101' sometime. But for now..." Jason sorted through all the information he had just been given, internally thanking his bat training as he did. "So bad emotions hurt you, and things that bring up strong bad emotions can hurt you just as much as a physical injury?"

"If not more so, in some cases." Danny nodded. "Actually, emotional hurt is way worse than any physical injury. We can litterally lose limbs and regrow them in a day or so."

"I'm... gonna think about that later." Jason steered the conversation back on track. "Anyway, negative emotions are bad for ghosts. And you tried not to get attached, right? So you wouldn't hurt when you had to leave?"

"Lot of good that did me!" Danny huffed, crossing his arms.

"So when you think about leaving... oh. Oh."  That made a lot more sense. "Huh."

"Yeah," Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't really register it until a few hours ago. I thought that it wouldn't be as bad with me, because of my, ah, unique situation." He gestured to himself vaguely. "But it appears that still being mostly alive does not exclude me from the side effects of emotional attachment." The way he said those last two words made Jason's lips tip up at the corners.

"So leaving would physically hurt you?" Jason clarified the true situation at hand. Danny looked like he wanted to protest, but let his shoulders droop in defeat as he nodded.

"Leaving without knowing if the emotional bond is truly broken or not would be like slowly being poisoned, especially if I never saw him again. And having the bond break quickly would be like breaking a bone." The teen grimaced, rubbing his hand over his chest again, as if he could feel the sensation. Knowing what he does now, it honestly wouldn't surprise Jason one bit.

"Well, what if you left before he took the cure?" Jason didn't know where the thought came from, but it made the teen pause and think again. "You could leave knowing the bond is mutual, and come back later when your more prepared for a negative reaction. Would that work?"

Danny considered it for a minute before hesitantly nodding. "I...guess that would work? At the very least, I could talk to Frostbite about it. If anyone knows how to safely break an emotional bond, or at least prepare for one to break, it would be him." Danny's face screwed up in a mixture of very identifiable emotions as he spoke.

"Hey, chin up." He gently bopped the teen's head, grinning at the indignant look he was faced with. "It would be good to talk to this Frostbite person, whoever that is, and be ready for if it happens. But," he looked Danny directly in the eyes, "that doesn't mean you have to focus on the bad outcome. Robin could be right, and he might keep his feelings, or he might not be in love with you, but still want to be friends." The halfa didn't look totally convinced, but he nodded anyways.

Jason sighed, leaning back into the couch. This was the best he could do on that front for the time being. Deciding to drop the topic for now, the man changed subjects. "You know that you'll have to tell Robin and your sister about the gun, right?"

Danny flinched slightly, but nodded. "Yeah, I know. I had planned on telling them...eventually..." He ducked his head again, this time out of embarrassment. Jason cracked a grin before forcing his expression back to a serious one.

"Well, I won't say anything." The teen perked up, a look of disbelief on his face. "But you need to tell them. Perferably sometime soon." He gave the teen a pointed look as he finally stood up, stretching as he turned towards the kitchen. "The other two should be back soon, so I'm going to get started on dinner. How do you feel about spagetti?"

----

Dick stared in horror at the mess that had been made in Alfred's kitchen. The man had gone out shopping randomly, stating that he had run out of some ingrediant or another that he needed for dinner that night. Barely thirty minutes later, and there were bowls and mixing utinsles littered over every surface. A pot bubbled threateningly on the stove, steam thick enough that Dick almost mistook it for smoke. And right in the middle of it all, sat Stephanie.

She barely looked up from where she was trying to cut a pineapple, the knife making a sawing motion as it stuttered through the fruit. "Steph?" He asked cautiously, making sure that he stayed firmly out of the kitchen. Alfred was not going to be pleased when he came back and saw this mess, and Dick did not want to be incriminated by setting a single toe into the disaster zone.

"Hey Dick!" She called out happily, not looking away from the mess she was making of the pineapple. "What's up? Did you need something?"

"Uhh, no. I'm alright. But what are you doing?" Wait... "Does Alfred know you're in here?" There was no way Alfred knew she was in here. Practically all of the family, barring Jason and Cass, were banned from the kitchen.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" She asked, expertly dodging the question.

'It looks like you're making a huge mess.' "Um, I have a good idea. But I might be wrong! So can you tell me what you're doing?" His smile was slightly strained as he tried not to grimace from the smell of burning sugar.

Steph turned around, letting out a startled noise as she moved to remove the bubbling pot from the stove. Turning off the eye, she set it aside on a pot holder, she grabbed a spoon and stirred vigurously before dumping half a cup of what Dick could only assume was milk into the pot. A horrible hissing noise arose, making the man take a step backwards. Steph completely ignored the terrible noise, using a fork this time to whisk the mixture.

Finally, she set the nightmare concoction aside and turned back to her butchered pineapple. "I told you, after I ruined your suit, that I would find a way to make it up to you!" She sent him a smile that in any other situation would be sweet, but now it only doubled the dread building in Dick's stomach.

"So you're trying to... cook for me?" It was hard to call whatever this was cooking, but he wasn't going to rain on the girl's parade. Alfred would probably chew her out once he gets back and sees what she's done to his domain.

"Would you call this cooking?" The qustion was mumbled, low enough that Dick barely heard it. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she smiled a bit wider as she spoke up. "I'm trying my hand at homeade candy! I tried to make you some homeade cereal, but..." Her gaze drifted over to a baking tray covered in black little balls that Dick now knew was supposed to be one of his favorite comfort foods. It was hard to keep the grimace off his face. "When that failed, I decided that caramel sounded like a great alternitive! But the recipe that Alfred had was a bit boring, so I thought, hey, doesn't fruit go good with caramel? I wanted to try apples, but Alfred said we were out. Then I saw the pineapple and thought, hey, that's kind of the same thing, right?"

Oh, she had to be doing this on purpose. Did he do something to set her off here recently? Siding with one of the others over her? A joke that irritated her? A villian that she had to take care of instead? No, nothing like that had happened. So what was it? What did Dick do to piss her off this badly? She didn't even look like she was mad, which was infinitly more terrifying than her being openly hostile.

"Riiight," Dick drawled out, taking a small step backwards as she brought the knife down with more force than necissary. "I'm just gonna... go look for one of my spare suits... they aren't where I left them last..." Slowly, he backed away from the doorway and down the hall, until he was out of sight of anyone that could be watching from the kitchen. Once he was sure that Steph wouldn't be able to see him, he turned and rushed back down the hall.

He had done something to invoke the scarrily petty side of his baby brother's ex, and if he wanted to survive the next few hours with all his hair and a settled stomach, then he needed to call in some backup. Normally, he would try and hide behind Damian, but with his littlest bat MIA, he had his second option avalible to him. "Duuuke! I need your help!"

---

(I know that there are probably spelling errors/grammer mistakes, but it's okay because I tried my best!)

For the amazing person who made this prompt, as well as the lovely people who have been following along!

@halfblackwolfdemon @manapeer @xxwintrynightzxx @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @blu-lilac @academicpurposes @secretdestinywerewolf @passivedecept @naluforever3 @postit-nope @spiteismymiddlename @2t-productions @plague-daisy @feet-achy @bubblecookies16 @thesapphiredragon13 @justwannabecat @magicalcollecter @adeniumdream @amuseofminds @lupagrim @readerkayden @dr-syko-pharm-4 @ladythugs @angelheartgamer @markthespot68 @kyrianclawraith @michikoy-yuki @servasvictoria02 @your-emo-nightmare @vala-dreams @scarlett-green-rose @t1dwarrior-of-earth @charlie-the-frogie @akikoyuii @mysticalcomputerdetective @roseuniverse999 @im-totally-not-an-alien @thefearfullone @weird-droplet-309 @jaytriesstuff @raventao @jacquelynwinchester @dragongoblet @tlise21 @longlivethefallen @the-archer-goddess @temple-of-jalebi @adepresseddwightsblogofjunk @plainly-colorful @the-legalHe-shipper @49saltpeppershakers @igotafewbadideas @tumbling-darkling @sparklygardenbouquet @sarcastic-yami @blueneko9314 @starscreamlover @liedboutmurder @do3y @roze-realm @some-mildly-happy-human @yinari-uchiha @azuera @chaoticmistake @altairsarts @kawaiikenna @heartsong18 @thetoyboxs @tricksovertreats @mnemovoid @lim4b3ans @horribly-lost-and-gay @keimiwolf @dryeraseslime @joey394

#dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #batman x danny phantom #dead serious #danny phantom x batfam #danny phantom x damian wayne #love potion #miscommunication #long post #fic on ao3 #dcxdp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp fanfiction

[captainseamech]

//I mentioned a few days ago that I had some things going through my mind and that I was building up courage to tell you guys that and... I think this is finally the appropriate time for such. It's nothing against anyone here, I promise you that. It's more about myself, really.

This post is written with small text font to make it faster to read (since I typed a lot), but if you want me to leave it all on a regular font feel free to tell me so and I'll fix it. And if there's any misspelling or grammatical error bear with me since I do be a bit sick still and... I might fix later (if I remember to do it) so my English might be worse than ever in this post. I'm sorry in advance.

.... for the past couple days since New Years hit us in the face I've seen my mutuals just... moving blogs and all that to start fresh aside from ships, relationships and the like and honestly, that kind of motivated me to do such since I'm... frankly unhappy with how this blog is looking recently, but I'm also in quite a big dilemma since I hate making choices and I wanted to be more open with you guys for a moment. Again, I've been thinking deeply on whether making this post or not but I think it will be worth it in the end (or I just wasted some of my time typing, who knows.)

On one hand it'd make me feel better and refreshed to move from here, starting with a theme, carrd and all that fancy stuff; especially with a better organization of my tags from the beginning since I feel my tags are... all over the place as of currently in comparison to my other blogs; as well as I'd have a way better sense of making my verses since I just... well, kind of hoarded lots of them with some that I barely dont use (if not straight up abandoned behind one starter call and/or headcanon post since I made them specific to one 'dead' fandom or whatnot). And also that I, somehow, get some quite mean/meaningful intended anons here for things that I did or not so hopefully moving places would make them disappear or even just appease them.

But on the other hand... this blog of mine has so much memories!! This is my oldest blog (November 2017!!) on this website, old peeps that were mutuals with me that still lurks in my followers list because the good times!! I had with them in the past!! before my hiatus are just!!!! And like, recently a few old mutuals of mine have been coming back to this site on a way or another with their older tumblr blog, or even just!! Keeping them there!! For the memories!! I put so much hard work on this blog and my writing over the years, especially with Cat (@/faultfindingfirebot) being such an old mutual of mine and developing our characters together!! All the memories with that ship is just!! Lurking here!! Everything is here!! With a simple mouse scroll through their blog tag!!

I know that moving blogs doesn't necessarily mean having to delete this blog, but still!! All the memories (even the cringe ones) are here and I just!! Don't want to lose this treasure y'know? I started on tumblr with this blog and I hoped to die on this hill still here! Maybe I'm just unnecessarily being emotional over this clusterfuck of a messy blog, but still! There's development from both me and the way I write my character with so much joy and not carrying much about fancyness! But apparently fancyness has become a major point in every rpc, to the point of really making me feel legitimately scared and/or hesitant to approach because some writers really despise mobile writers somehow... and it doesn't do wonders to my anxiety honestly.

So... Again, it might sound stupid of me to be emotional over this blog instead of quickly moving on like normal people should but as I mentioned repeatedly before... The memories that lures around this blog are one of the most important things that I could've asked for and this is why I'm opening up to you guys because I want to establish more communication with my mutuals publicly since I always sucked at keeping a stable conversation with each and everyone.

I reckon it might sound straight up weird for me to feel attached and just not do it like a normal person would and move blogs already without letting one's mind out but... I really, really cant help it at all. And I just couldn't stop it from happening too, even though I tried my best to avoid it. But scrolling back on this blog sometimes to see all the good and bad things me and High Tide has gotten through is just... developmentally nostalgic in a way, and sometimes I like to relive the old times no matter how cringe it seemed with both new and old time mutuals.

TL;DR: Should I just stop whining around and move on to try new experiences or stay here where I always belonged?

#🛳 | outside the ship / ooc #📱 | stuck in my datapad / mobile posting #long post tw #tw long post #[ it's under read more but still snbdndkf ] #[ and also I tried to not make this reading boring my yeeting icons here and there... hope it worked ]

[autumnslance]

How did you start writing for Aeryn as only a fanfic/short stories? How do you not want to Rp with her? Also how do you play multiple characters?

In the order I felt like answering and it got long so:

Also how do you play multiple characters?

Irresponsible use of my free time. I am happily single and have no kids; just a roommate and our two cats. I also have a steady 8 to 5 Mon-Fri work schedule and currently work from home, and am a natural introvert who'd rather hermit than go out anyway. So I have the time and money to do as I like right now; it's kinda novel, actually.

Iyna and C'oretta do languish in older content (Stormblood and Shadowbringers respectively right now), and only unlock some things as I slowly catch them up, and I feel free to buy boosts as needed. I do most things on Aeryn and Dark, and even then I end up focusing on one or the other, or alternating. I'll likely get to the alts later in the patch cycle.

Having played WoW where multiple alts were an expectation of that set up (and before things were shared across one's account), and wanting to replay the MSQ before New Game+ existed, it didn't seem that alien a concept to me, nor did developing stories and roleplay personalities for them as well. C'oretta was a surprise who formed over a few months of playing her. Iyna came to mind with a solid backstory and personality already, just a few new details here and there cropping up as time goes on, as I never meant to make a viera at all.

As a note, all my WoW RP characters had not only backstories I wrote, but also reactions and interactions with the main storylines, or stories I made up each expac, that were not RP but solo fic adventures. I should really make a pseud and throw a bunch of them on Ao3 sometime.

How do you not want to Rp with her?

I've fallen out of love with open world roleplay entirely. While it was much of my time in WoW, and I initially intended to, I found I didn't have the energy or interest in joining the FFXIV RP community and all that would entail. The time and commitment requirements, not to mention all the petty dramas, felt like too much. I'm fairly shy and awkward (like a lot of RPers!) and I simply hit a point where the effort wasn't worth the cost anymore. I'm old and tired.

I do sometimes RP little scenes with my FC, cuz most of us have played and written together for about a decade and a half now, but it's really just hanging around our house between queues and discussing headcanons and sometimes doing some collaborative writing (or just signing off on someone's use of a character in their stories). I very occasionally take Dark to RP events.

Some folks can do two versions of their character; a roleplay version and the Warrior of Light version for MSQ. I couldn't do that with Dark Autumn once I set her story and role in my mind, and C'oretta wasn't even meant to stick around past the Ul'dah intro, but similar deal there.

Aeryn was written specifically to be a Warrior of Light, going through the MSQ as Hydaelyn's Champion. I never asked my FC to see her as anything but another Echo-having adventurer when we hang out together, but they do what they want.

I get my roleplay fix in D&D games played with friends for a couple hours most weekends, using online virtual tabletops even before the pandemic. I've never liked Tumblr RP--this is a terrible medium for it--though Discord's worked out decently a few times.

How did you start writing for Aeryn as only a fanfic/short stories?

I go over it a bit in the one link in my Pin Post. I was noticing how folks were perfectly OK with having their own Warriors of Light, the way I'd seen folks have their own Shepherds and Wardens/Hawkes/Inquisitors in Bioware fanfiction. Having come from a different RP and fic writing environment on my old WoW server, it was new and something I mulled over, as I never wrote fics for my own Bioware OCs. Then I found out about the CGI Midlander Woman, and mulled some more. If some folks made male Meteor lookalike WoLs, why not a lady WoL using that base image? I did make a few adjustments (not so pale for one) but overall she's inspired by that image, as is some of her lore in regards to Ardbert and her own brother.

Her backstory IS set up so that if I ever DID RP her as an "Echo-having adventurer" in public RP, it all works just as well without the "specialness" of being The WoL, but my creative outlet is satisfied just writing and being totally in control of her story and development, creating her as able to stand on her own. Well, barring unexpected relationships, anyway.

My intent was to go through the MSQ again and see what an actual WoL, played fairly close to the game's assumption of a helpful, brave, eccentric, altruist would react like--not my own reactions, playing through it on RP characters who weren't actually the Hero themselves--and not have her be in a romance with any NPC cuz wouldn't that be different from so many WoLs I saw? I couldn't fathom OCNPC shipping anyway, it was a cute thing others did but not for me.

We all see how well that last part worked for me (Dammit Thancred), but it's turned out OK, I think.

So to summarize: I specifically built my characters so I could RP if I chose, but am also happy discovering their stories and personalities by writing fic on my own for them. My priorities and how I enjoy RP have shifted with time and life situations, preferring familiar, small closed groups over open world community RP. I'm lucky to have longtime RP groups I can indulge that hobby with, as well as a current adult life that lets me play and write as I like.

#Lyn Prompts #About Me #Blogging #Roleplay #Writing #Character Development #long post

[blackasmidnightcats]

Book 1 Nostalgia

WARNING: This post will have spoilers to the SGE series

The first book in any series will always hold a special place in anyone's heart I think. There is just something beautiful, whether the writing was phenomenal or lacking, about the introduction to a new world and the characters that you're going to know. After reading further into the series, sometimes you just wanna go back to the start, where everything was a lot simpler.

SGE kinda falls into this feeling for me.

I don't think I'm ever going to get over the interactions between the characters (and we haven't even explored most of them) because, personally, Soman is incredibly good with how he does character intercations but the story and plot have a lot to improve on.

And now comparing TSY with TCY it's very glaring.

Soman really has a problem with his plot so much so than with his storyline. It's very repetitive and the storyline suffers from it.

After Book 1, every plot seemed to be the same case; Sophie is an important piece to the main villain, Agatha tries to fix everything, Tedros is getting more crap than needed, annoyingly unhealthy romantic relationships are explored, and the other characters do things.

The last of these examples are really the only things that varies. Everything else is almost always the same in one way or another.

The first book doesn't really follow that pattern. It's a introductory book and I wish Soman did the same vibe as it in QfG.

Though Book 1 wasn't perfect. My biggest main problem with it was how Soman handled Agatha's development from thinking herself a freak and realizing that she was just a beautiful as anyone else (and Tagatha, of course. They had a very unconvincing start) compared to the detailed and precise handling of Sophie's decent and eventual acceptance her wickedness.

I said it once and I'll say it again: I miss vengeful, spited Sophie. Who made the School for Good suffer because Tedros didn't keep his promise and her very impressive Talent to summon Evil creatures at will to do her bidding.

This was the Sophie that I expected more from in the later books but might never get again. With the way that the OTK cover portrays her as the Lion, whether that would be a thing or not, it's clear that Soman wants the readers to look at Sophie in a better light and not as the anti-hero that she is but I could be wrong.

In Book 1, Sophie was incredibly selfish to the point that she wouldn't do anything for others even those that she should care about (i.e. Tedros in the Trial) and in the end, she had to pay for the selfishness by seeing just how Evil she could become and be seen as the witch that she was. Her development from Pink Princess to Witch of Woods Beyond was believable; her ambitiousness combined with her selfishness was what made her gain everything through manipulation and wickedness but it couldn't be hidden for long. Once everyone, including herself, saw what lied underneath her exterior, she lost everything and because of the things that she chooses to do, she naturally hurt and attacked the people that wronged her just as Evil does.

It was caused by a failed romantic pursuit, yes, but unlike the other later romantic relations that she had, the one in Book 1 focused more on the outcome for her character development than in the relationship itself. Honestly her relationships with Rafal, and Rhian, and maybe now Japeth, idk, make absolutely no sense with the importance that the story puts on it because these relationships didn't help further Sophie's character development. It stunted her really.

Now compare this to Agatha.

I think everyone and their cats agree that we all miss witchy Agatha in book 1 and I hope we write more of her in our fanfics like that since Soman won't do it. The thing is, with Agatha, unlike Sophie, whether she is written as a straight-up hero or as a sort of anti-villain with her portrayal as the Snake in the OTK cover, it won't be that far fetched. I don't know if Soman intended this or not but it's pretty frickin impressive with how he managed to make Agatha a pretty versatile character.

Book 1 did not to good with how she went from Graveyard Girl to Fairy Tale Princess. At most, we saw her heroic characteristics but Soman didn't put much effort with making it believable and we were left to our own imaginations with how she could have believably developed and grown into herself. It should have taken more than one chapter to make us believe that Agatha suddenly grew confident with herself and her own brand of beauty and how her relationship with Tedros should have started.

But because of the fact that she's now comfortable as both being a little different and unique in her own way but is still guided by the values of Good and holds it dear to her soul as well as her loyalty to those she loves, she can do great with the best of both worlds.

Agatha hasn't stopped growing since book 1 and I think that reason for that is because Soman knows that he has to square up whenever he writes her. Whether she's developing on her own or with others, she's always learning new values and finding ways to express them in the way that she's comfortable with.

Soman does express that he loves writing in Sophie's POV the most, but it can be a double edged sword if not careful. And I think Soman hasn't been careful.

Now back to the glory of Book 1.

Book one had the most simplest plot and most fluent storyline than in any other book. Even TLEA.

I think I could recall a lot more events in Book 1 than in the more recent ones because there was a lot more events and chapters that were actually necessary to the plot.

So, to go by statistics;

TLEA has the most recorded chapters in the series as of current before the release of OTK with 35 chapters and 3 parts to divide it.

It's followed by Book 1 with 30 chapters.

Then QfG is next with 28 chapters divided into 2 parts.

And aCoT follows with 27 chapters and 2 parts as well.

Last is AWWP with 24 chapters divided into 2 parts as well.

If going by this then OTK should either have a chapter or two more or less than TLEA but not less so than Book 1 because it's going to now be the official last book of the the series.

But that is besides the point. My main problem with the books' storytelling after Book 1 is how disoriented it has become.

Let me make an example with QfG and aCoT. These books are more or less very similar with each other in the number of chapters with only one being the difference while the start of the the "Part 2" portion was a bit different with QfG's starting at chapter 21 while aCoT's started with chapter 17.

But the reception and the fluency of these two books could not be more different from each other.

To say that QfG completely destroyed the fandom is an understatement. I can't tell of aCoT managed to regain the series's former glory for long enough to not let OTK flop but let's be hopeful.

Anyways, the fluency of the storytelling with TCY was wack and QfG and aCoT completely show that.

WARNING: Spoilers about QfG and aCoT will be discussed in this section.

I could not remember almost 70% of QfG because of how much I hated the plot and looking back at the chapters, I honestly could not believe that the asshat Rhian was only introduced on Chapter 21. Everything after Chaddick's POV chapter seemed to be a blur and Rhian's b*tch ass seemed to have corrupted the whole experience.

8 chapters. He was only in QfG for 8 chapters and yet it feels almost like he's been in it for more than half. Frick. He is traumatizing.

Basically, the middle part of the book, namely chapters 7 to 20, was all about the main cast trying to frickin understand wtf was happening. Agatha and Sophie were trying to figure out the Lion and the Snake thing while Tedros was back in Camelot doing (or failing or being sabotaged with) politics and also trying to understand why tf was Excalibur having a tantrum.

Then Rhian entered and I don't know why or how Nottingham and Robin Hood got involved but he did.

And then more figuring out stuff and sabotaging Tedros and then Rhian and Excalibur and then cliffhanger.

It was all very abrupt and confusing. More confusion was added all because there were more questions asked than actual answers and a sense of depression was felt in the end because nothing was really achieved.

Imma compare this with Book 1 later but first Book 5 comparison.

Now aCoT. It was just the storyline that we needed to get back to the hype that the series had. Was it a satisfying read? Yes but was it able to heal the pain that QfG inflicted? No.

The fandom did not come back the same again.

But anyways, aCoT, personally, had a lot more scenes and events that I remembered than in any other book besides book 1 but that there was the problem with this book.

Too many things happened with this book. So much so that the fluency of the story was sacrificed to tell it.

Look at it this way, several shifts in the book happened.

This all happened in Part 1 only;

Rhian became King and his regime was sort of explained.

Agatha was introduced to the First Years and got her Army.

Sophie was in some sort of GOT-esque knock off experience as Rhian's Captive Queen.

Agatha manages to save some of her friends.

The concept of OTK was explained.

Tedros's execution was on way.

Nevermind, Agatha and her army just straight-up hijacked it.

Prof. Dovey died as a sacrifice.

Okay, now to Part 2;

Reaper is a Gnome King.

The Crystal of Time was finally explained.

They finally find out about Rhian and Japeth's origins.

The Gnomes were ambushed and I feel sorry for them.

Sophie tipped Rhian off with the location because she believed that she would end it all.

We kinda get background with why Rhian wants to be OTK????

Rhian DIES?!?!?! and now Japeth's King ☠

They sort of manage to know about wtf happened with the Lady and Japeth

Tedros and Arthur have a heart to heart and he gets the Ring of Power.

Cliffhanger

It's a lot to take in and I don't really think that Soman should have cramped it all in one book.

Some of the plot points should have been in QfG so that it wouldn't be as depressing.

The whole of Part one was a book in itself and Part 2 was one as well.

At some points of the book, I sometimes got the feeling that it was gonna be the end but it just kept going and going and now I don't really know what's left with OTK. It can be both a good thing or a horrible thing.

Let's see wtf happens. I expect more action than drama Soman.

So again with Book 1.

Book 1 was a classic and the ideas easily hooked anyone interested.

It had the same unaswered questions with QfG but why did it suceed when QfG didn't.

First, is that Book 1 had its atmosphere clear from the start of the book. It was clear that the main thing that needed to happen was that Sophie and Agatha needed to realize the actual nature of their souls. There were more technical questions that needed to be answered but the main point that needed to be addressed was addressed by the end of the book.

And also the ending was also a cliffhanger but it a much lighter note.

Sophie and Agatha realized their capabilities and understood themselves but they still chose each other in the end and that sort of gave way to a much hopeful future for the two of them. (At that time, at least)

All the while, QfG was one depressing ball of events that led to one horrible moment to the other.

It was just sad.

And so I kinda go back to Book 1 from time to time to refresh myself with why I started this series to begin with and I'm always reminded with the possibilities and the explorations about good and evil and the complex duality of differences and parallels that so many things that Sophie and Agatha sort of beautifully personify.

I love reading the very first chapter of Book 1 because it so beautifully captured Sophie and Agatha and their complex relationship that I've always wanted to read in other books.

I always loved reading Sophie's amusing thought process and the reason why she does everything that she does; she does it because she believes that she deserves more and she'll everything to get it.

I also loved how Agatha was such a character that I've always wanted to read about. She's spunky and shy and lonely and reflective and despite everyone shunning her, she could still see the good and find it in herself to help them. She was simply wonderful.

I'm thankful that I found this series and I hope that a lot more books can talk about the philosophies and concepts that this book has managed to introduce. And despite all of its set-backs and nonsense, I would still recommend this as a read but to that they should also think about what they've read and maybe talk about what they've found interesting with it.

#sge #sfgae #tsfgae #the school for good and evil #school for good and evil #soman chainani #agatha of woods beyond #agatha of camelot #sophie of woods beyond

[spicycreativity]

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 2

Chapter: 2/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: Brief depiction of light dissociation Excerpt: Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV. "Uh, Princey?" Virgil said, tilting his head at them, but Roman wasn't listening. "Don't tell him," Logan advised, shoving down his own annoyance at the error.

Virgil peeled another poster off the wall and laid it down on his bare mattress. Without the sticky tack pinning it flat, it rolled itself back up into a tube shape. Quietly singing along to the music blasting from his speakers, Virgil adjusted it and rolled a purple rubber band down to its center. Then he put it with the rest of his posters, in an open-topped cardboard box exactly identical to the ones he’d been imagining up as necessary. The weight of his newly blank walls bore down on him hard and he chewed absentmindedly at his thumbnail before catching himself. He clenched his hands into fists instead and worried at his lower lip as he surveyed what was left of his room.

It would have been faster and easier to ask Roman for an assist. He could have had Virgil’s entire room moved (and renovated) in less time than it took him to wave his hands. And he would wave his hands, and give a self-aggrandizing little speech, and hold it over Virgil’s head until he found something else to congratulate himself for.

So, no, despite their fledgling alliance, despite the direct invitation, Virgil wouldn’t be asking Roman for favors anytime soon. And besides (not that he would ever admit it out loud), there was something undeniably grounding, something real, about doing the work with his hands. He just hoped his empty room would take the hint and follow him upstairs.

As he worked, he became aware of eyes on him. It was a slow dawning, an uncomfortable tingle in his spine that morphed into a full-body itch. Spite kept him from turning to look, focused on packing away the meager contents of his closet. He knew that Janus would come, and he was determined to not care. Let him face the consequences of his actions for once in his life.

From the doorway, Janus watched. He watched Virgil reverently fold imaginary band tees he would never have the courage to wear. He watched Virgil ignore him. He watched Virgil prepare to forsake the only family he had ever known.

The uneasy stalemate grew more tense by the second until they were both buckling under the weight of words unsaid.

It was Janus who broke first. Where the embers of Virgil's anger could smolder endlessly in his chest, Janus' temper reared up at the slightest provocation and struck with its fangs, and would not be satisfied until the threat was gone. "Tell me you didn't actually buy that little 'family' act."

Virgil's knuckles went white around the Paramore shirt he'd been folding. If Janus had come to patch things up, he was making a mess of it. "There's nothing to buy. They're not liars upstairs." He didn’t need to add ‘unlike here ;’ it went both unsaid and mutually understood.

Janus narrowed his eyes and doubled down in his attempt to make Virgil catch his meaning. "It's awfully sweet that you want to think that, but let's not forget that your precious Patton is the whole reason you're down here with the rejects in the first place."

"Yeah? Well, he’s also the main reason I’m heading up now.” Virgil resumed folding up his shirt. There was no sense in letting Janus upset him, not when it was Virgil who had the upper hand. He had made his decision.

"Yes, and I’m sure he and Roman weren't just being nice to spare their own feelings.”

Virgil was quiet for a long moment, methodically re-folding the shirt and placing it into the box with the others. "Would it kill you to just be happy for me?" he demanded, turning back to his closet without sparing so much as a glance at Janus. He stared at the few remaining shirts without really seeing them, heart hammering against his ribcage. He had been hoping to slip out quietly and let Janus cool down. Despite last night’s tension, he really hadn't intended to burn any bridges. But since Janus was being so generous with the kerosene…

In the doorway, Janus straightened. He dropped his hands to his sides, staring at Virgil like he'd never seen him before. Something uncomfortably like defeat crawled up his spine. "So you really think this is going to end well for you?" It went against his nature to speak plainly; even now the truth metamorphosed painfully on his tongue, becoming a venom-drenched mockery of itself.

Virgil had never liked the process of drawing the truth out of Janus. It always involved effort on one of their parts, and too often Virgil was the one left untangling the knots when Janus was the one who had tied them. He was just about sick of it. So he left the truth raveled up inside Janus' words and grabbed a shirt at random from his closet. "Yeah. I do."

Janus faltered and went still. Virgil could see it out of the corner of his eye, and the sick sense of satisfaction made him smirk. He really was tired of the eternal chess match that came with talking to Janus and it felt good to score a point for himself.

When Janus felt cornered, he struck. But this ? Virgil hadn't cornered him, he'd boxed him in . There was nothing to strike at. Just blank white walls and the chemical odor of lighter fluid.

For a moment, there was no sound but Virgil's music. Virgil imagined another T-shirt to fold. MCR. Long sleeves. Soft jersey under his hands.

Janus knew perfectly well what Virgil wanted from him. But courage wasn't in his function; neither was vulnerability. He stood still in the doorway. No motion but the rise and fall of his chest, the twitch of his irises as he watched Virgil tape up his box of T-shirts. It should have been an easy choice: his pride for Virgil's friendship. But the scales pitched and swung and refused to balance, and Janus was silent.

"Tell me why you came here," Virgil dared him, searching for yet another reason to not look Janus in the eye. He settled for imagining a Sharpie so he could label his boxes.

Janus was silent.

"I know you wanted something."

Silent.

"Say it."

Silent.

"Then go."

Silent.

Janus turned on his heel and walked away. Resentment bloomed in his chest. Virgil had gone for a weak spot on purpose, had set Janus up to lose one of two things he held dear. Let him leave, then. If it turned out to be a mistake, they would find out soon enough. And if it didn't, well…

At least Janus had his pride.

Virgil scoffed at the sight of Janus slinking away like a cat, head high and shoulders back.

Virgil had never expected to lose Janus, but he supposed it did make sense that things would end this way: not with the cheap words he threw around like a high-roller's banknotes, but with a chill and deadly silence.

"Whatever," Virgil said to no one. He picked up one of his boxes and headed for the stairs.

Janus was nowhere to be found; Virgil figured he was probably sulking in his room with the lights off, plucking at threads that would never hold knots.

That, or planning some sort of revenge. Virgil tried not to shudder. After all, there wasn't really anything Janus could do to him, not when Virgil had this much conviction in his decision. Janus preyed on insecurities, driving wedges of doubts into the cracks that already existed in the foundations of long-held beliefs. And Virgil had allowed himself no doubts. Not today. Not about this.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice Remus on the stairs.

Remus had been making no effort to hide, but, realizing that Virgil was going to pass by without noticing him, sprang forward to block his path. "Boo!"

"Fuck!" Virgil flinched and pulled the box in tighter to his chest. He glared at Remus and took in a few deep breaths, leaning against the bannister while he waited for his head to stop spinning. "What was that for?"

"Take a wild guess, Little Boy Boohoo." Remus slapped the top of the box just hard enough to make the contents shift and rattle, rage boiling in his chest. "Y'know, when you said you got Raptured, I didn't think you'd actually go through with it."

"Remus, come on." Sadness ached in the back of Virgil's throat. He hadn't wanted this. For all that Janus and Remus had teased him about spending time upstairs, he hadn't expected this kind of anger from either of them, was still reeling from their unabashed hostility. They were friends . Well. They used to be.

"Cum on what?" Remus asked, leaning in. "Your face? Your tits?" Fire blazed in his eyes and he made no effort to quell it; he wanted Virgil scared . It served him right for picking Roman.

Virgil seemed to read his mind. "You know I'm not choosing them over you guys, I just-- I can be friends with all of you. I can help. ”

"No," Remus said, meaning every word of it. "You can't."

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcing down his doubts. "But you guys are the ones making me choose. I-- Look, I'm sure if I told them how much you mean to me--"

"They'd start inviting us up for tea and orgies?" Remus bared his teeth. "Face it, Virgil. They want to change us just like they changed you," he bit the air in front of Virgil's face, "into a toothless little lap dog. And the second you stop playing by their rules, it's back in the dungeon with the rest of us wolves. And you know what wolves get: Dark screens and pens out of ink and knots that won't stay tied."

"Maybe I don't like being a wolf," Virgil said, sticking with the metaphor out of habit. It usually made Remus happy to have his ideas acknowledged. "Maybe I'm changing for my own sake."

Remus sneered at him, aiming to wound. "Patton must give really good head."

"Get out of my way," Virgil said, fury burning cold in his lungs. "I'll be back down soon for the rest of my stuff."

Remus stepped aside, but planted his boot on the railing opposite the wall before Virgil could take so much as a single step. Nothing about Remus could be repressed or contained, not his anger, not his glee, not even his sadness. It escaped now, despite his best efforts to get a leash on it. "I just never thought it would be you."

"What do you mean?" Virgil asked, studying Remus' wistful face. His heart gave a dangerous lurch. "Actually? I don't care. Move."

Remus let his boot drop with a heavy thud, forcing Virgil to step over it. "You're making a mistaaaake," he called after Virgil, pitching his voice up in a shrill sing-song lilt. A parting gift to the traitor.

Virgil winced, but kept walking. If he was making a mistake, at least it was his mistake to make.

At the top of the stairs, he batted at the doorknob until it turned enough to allow him to fall through the door. He kicked it shut behind him and paused to catch his breath.

Then Roman popped up from the couch, sweeping a hand through his hair. "Hey there, 5 Seconds of Bummer."

"Jesus!" Virgil jumped and fell back against the wall, chest aching.

"Careful, don't let Elder Patton hear you say that. What's with the box?" Roman looked Virgil up and down, examining the coal black eyeshadow and the way he cowered against the wall. Whatever he was doing, he seemed unharmed, if a little freaked out. Not that that was unusual.

"I'm moving," Virgil said, only just managing to hold back a sarcastic ' genius .'

"Really?" Roman's smile was so bright it was almost dazzling. "Say no more!" He straightened, puffing out his chest. "Let's see, where should we put you?" He paused, drawing mental pictures. "By Logan, I think. Right across from yours truly.”

Virgil squinted at him, but he realized Roman’s intent a moment too late. "Oh, I don't--"

"Shh." Roman focused on his desired effect, pictured Virgil's room and all its contents moving upstairs. He would have a bright purple door with a black iron door knob. Oh, and a little 'keep out' sign with a skull on it. And a new bedspread with purple patches, to match his hoodie. And of course, he couldn't forget Virgil's actual possessions (whatever they were) right where they were supposed to be. "There!"

Virgil ducked his head and raised his eyebrows, dropping his hands to his sides now that he had no box to hold up. He almost mourned the loss of it, the comforting weight on his chest. "'There'?" he repeated.

Roman beamed at him. "I moved your room for you!" Virgil opened his mouth, Roman assumed to complain about his precious privacy or whatever, so Roman raised a hand to stop him. "Now, now, no need to thank me." He paused, thinking it over, and regretted his choice of words. "No, wait, do."

"Uh, how about I hold off on that until I actually see my room?" Virgil stared expectantly at Roman, who bounced on his toes. "Lead on, Macduff."

"That's not the line and you know it," Roman complained, but he turned to lead Virgil to his room. "It's ' lay on, Macduff,' and--"

"Yeah, yeah," Virgil interrupted, already regretting his teasing. "And then they fight."

"Don't tempt me, " Roman said. Then he winced. "Ah, like, friendly fighting! Between bros! Good, old-fashioned, manly sword fighting between two dudes…" He paused to take a breath, faltering, hoping for a rescue that did not come, "who are friends. Friendly sword dudes." He cleared his throat and repeated, "Friendly sword dudes."

Behind him, Virgil smiled. For all his boasting, Roman really was trying to be more pleasant. Maybe Virgil should try to extend a hand as well. Unfortunately, "Sure," was all he could manage.

He followed Roman across the living room and up another set of stairs until they came upon a long corridor lined on either side with doors. "It's like a hotel," Virgil observed.

"Go in already." Roman nudged Virgil with his hip.

Virgil resisted the urge to smack him, reminding himself that Roman wouldn't know he was just playing. Instead, he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and walked down the hallway to his door. "It's purple."

"Oh, good, you're not colorblind."

"Was that a big concern for you?" Virgil didn't wait for a response before pulling the door open and examining his room. Everything seemed fine, from his band posters to his pet spider in its terrarium. Everything aside from the bedspread.

Roman kept glancing between it and Virgil, wiggling in excitement. "Well?"

"Um, yeah." Virgil forced a smile. "It looks nice. Thanks, Princey. I, uh. I like the purple."

"I knew you would!" Roman gave himself a round of applause and pushed past Virgil, throwing himself down on the bed. "Come feel. The purple patches are fleece."

"Okay…" Virgil crossed the room, trying not to look as tense as he felt. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and put his hand down on the fleece, mind frustratingly blank. "Yeah, that's soft."

Roman nodded in satisfaction. "So," he said, "how does it feel?"

"...Soft?" Virgil repeated, flicking his eyes to Roman's face for just a moment.

"Not the comforter." Roman sighed. "Your great escape! You're finally free from Bialysnake and Doom."

Virgil tilted his head. "Not your best work," he said, mostly to avoid answering the question.

"Oh, everyone's a critic." Roman examined his nails. "But come on, doesn't it feel better to know you won't have to deal with those freaks anymore? I can't even imagine how you made it this long, and that's saying a lot for me. Thank goodness you let us rescue you."

Virgil forced back the instinctive wave of anger that Roman would talk about his friends that way. They weren ' t friends anymore. And maybe it would feel good to vent a little. "I'm glad to be gone," Virgil said with conviction, imagining Janus and Remus listening at the door. "It's gonna be really nice not having to deal with all the mind games and, and random tangents and… weird communication problems."

"Go, Virgil!" Roman said, a little surprised at Virgil's candor. "That really must have been Hell for you."

Virgil, as a rule, avoided lying. Even white lies made him feel sick and panicky. But for just one incandescent moment, he lost control of his temper and let the bonfire blaze in his chest and the smoke pour out of his mouth. "Yeah." If he said it out loud, maybe he could make himself believe it. Maybe he could crush the remaining ache of betrayal, the longing for his friends. "It was Hell. I'm not going to miss them at all."

Roman gave a low whistle "I'm glad we got you out of there."

"Lucky me." Virgil rubbed his fingertips along a patch of fleece as guilt, cloying and viscous, lapped at the back of his throat.

It was funny, he thought, reflecting on the look of earnest conviction in Roman's eyes. When Janus said that 3 plus 3 equaled 7, he was getting at something. When Roman said that 3 plus 3 equaled 7, he believed it. That could be a dangerous combination someday. Maybe it was better like this. Now Virgil was in a better position to keep Roman and the others safe from whatever vengeance Janus and Remus might choose to inflict upon them.

"Hey," said Virgil, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Maybe we should get out of here. Y'know, before you go all--"

"Fright Night?" Roman frowned, bored with the idea. "That's so last episode. Can't you just turn it off?" Almost to himself, he muttered, "A nifty little Roman trick."

"Turn off my anxiety?" Virgil repeated, incredulous.

"No, no, of course not." Roman waved a hand to dismiss the idea. "Just make your room a little less kooky, spooky, and ooky." He snapped his fingers twice.

"No?" said Virgil.

"Let's see." Roman indicated the switch on the wall he had just dreamed up. "Go ahead. Pull the lever, Anxiety!"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "It's not a lever."

"I could make it a lever," Roman said, a touch petulant. "A long one, too, so you can walk into it and jab yourself right in the ribs every time you try to turn the lights on."

"Alright, I get it," Virgil put up his hands placatingly. "I'm sorry I talked bad about your anxiety lightswitch." He got to his feet and flipped the switch, all the while staring expectantly at Roman. "Feel anything?"

"Profoundly unchanged." Roman stood up as well and rocked forward onto his toes. "Ah, well. I guess I wasn't in here long enough to tell the difference. Suppose that's why we leave the nerdy science stuff to the Great Logician."

“Where are the others, anyway?” Virgil asked, longing for an escape from one-on-one conversation. His nerves were already starting to fray.

“I don’t know.” Roman leaned against the wall and fidgeted with one of Virgil’s decorative spiderwebs. “Logan’s probably holed up in his room making a spreadsheet of Thomas’ vitamin deficiencies or something equally as boring.”

“And Patton?”

“I don’t know, man, it’s not like I keep them under surveillance.” Roman rolled his eyes, annoyed with the questioning. "I suppose I should summon them up to say hello." He gave Virgil a sidelong glance.

Virgil shrugged. "I don't really care either way, to be honest. But maybe don't bother them if they're busy "

Roman wasn't listening. "Let's see, probably shouldn't do it in your room… To the hallway!" He bounded out the door leaving Virgil to follow him at a shuffle.

It was fine, Virgil had to keep reminding himself. Roman meant well, and maybe his antics would keep Patton from rolling out the welcome wagon. The thought of special treatment made Virgil's toes curl. Just because he didn't want to be insulted all the time didn't mean he needed to be babie d.

Roman's voice cut through the noise in Virgil's head and he planted his hands on his hips. "You're not listening to me at all, are you?"

Virgil gave a fake smile. "I got caught up in the sound of your voice."

"Hm, well." Roman sniffed, playing the part. "My talents are wasted on buzzkill philistines." He paused. "Buzzkill-istines."

Virgil only made a face, so Roman sighed and brought up his arms to summon Patton and Logan, proclaiming as he did so, "Look who I rescued from the dungeon!"

"Hey," said Virgil, bristling, but the chaos was already underway.

"Yay!" Patton threw his arms out wide. "It's Anxiety!"

"You never say 'yay,' when I come around,” Roman complained.

"Hi, Patton," Virgil said, not wanting to be rude.

Logan chimed in, "Roman, it would be incredibly disruptive if Patton said 'yay' every time you entered a shared space--"

"I didn't ask for a read , you pirated nerd processor. I'm just saying a little appreciation would be nice."

"Anxiety is our guest !"

Patton still had his arms out. Virgil caught his eye. "Was that-- Is that for a hug or…?"

"Only if you want one!" Patton said.

Roman threw his hands up in frustration. "It's like I'm not even here! You never offer me hugs."

"If you are referring to Patton, he hugged you three times yesterday by my count." Logan paused and pushed up his glasses. "Possibly more times than that, if I wasn't present to witness them."

"Aw, Roman, did you want a hug, too? Group hug?"

"I would prefer not to--"

"No, no, that's quite alright."

"Does anybody want a hug? 'Cause my arms are getting tired."

" I don't," Roman said, obviously pouting.

Virgil pressed his fingertips to his forehead, exasperated. Then he stepped away from Roman and let Patton hug him like he obviously wanted to.

It was hard for Virgil to not shudder at the sudden heat and weight on him. With his senses already open and taking in more information than his brain seemed to want to process, touch was an added stressor, more unwanted sensory input.

But it was important to Patton, and his voice was genuine when he said, "Thank you."

"Ugh, enough already!" Roman said, dropping his arms so he could cross them again. "Isn't anyone going to congratulate me for rescuing our dark-and-stormy damsel?"

Virgil seized upon the opportunity to slip out of Patton's arms and step a healthy distance away. "I'm sorry, which part was the rescue? Was it the part where you ambushed me in the living room and took my stuff?"

"Roman, it's not nice to take what doesn't belong to you," Patton said.

"No, Padre. Ugh." Roman groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "I helped him move all his stuff."

"That does explain the new violet variance," Logan said, nodding at Virgil's door.

Roman muttered, "That doesn't make sense; you just wanted an excuse to use alliteration," but it was barely audible under the sound of Patton screeching in delight.

"Uh," said Virgil, wide-eyed. "How long do you think he's gonna go?"

"Three," said Logan, unphased.

"What?"

"Two."

"And one," Roman said.

Patton drew in a deep breath. "Kiddo! You're gonna live with us now?"

"Yep," Virgil said, ducking his head.

"This is so exciting! We have to celebrate!"

"We really don't," Virgil muttered, backing into the wall. The last thing he wanted was--

"A party!" Roman said, driving his fist into his open palm. If he couldn't be the object of adoration, then he could at least be in charge of something.

Virgil sighed, swallowing back a swear. He suddenly longed for the safe familiarity of Janus' gentle taunts and Remus' wild-eyed enthusiasm. He had grown so used to people knowing his limits, to having his needs anticipated and boundaries accounted for.

It crossed his mind to flee, to run back down the stairs into the basement with apologies on his lips. At least his old demons were familiar ones. He knew how to handle it when Remus got too wild or when Janus got sulky and jealous. And the ache, the ache of being so cruel, well, he knew how to ride that out too.

What Virgil did not know how to handle was the rambunctious enthusiasm of three (well, two) optimists who were far too excited about being his friends.

Oh.

Realization and guilt slammed into Virgil's chest, a flying tackle of empathy. All Patton and Roman wanted to do was be his friends, and Virgil had the nerve to be put off by it.

He shook himself and tuned back into the conversation just in time for Roman to address him directly, "And you just have to sit there and look pretty." A beat. "Pretty scary." Patton turned his disapproving gaze on Roman, who was already in the process of trying to extricate his foot from his mouth. "Ah, um, pretty… scarily… pretty . Because it scares us… how pretty you look."

Virgil decided to let that one go as a show of goodwill.  "...Thanks."

"Yep," Roman said, utterly failing to stick the landing. "Anyway, enough talk! We have festivities to attend to!"

He sank out, and Patton after him, until it was just Virgil and Logan in the hall.

"I do not understand him," Logan admitted.

Virgil just shook his head, privately wondering if the same placating behavior that worked on Remus would work on Roman too. "Just go with it, I guess."

Logan nodded. "Before we join the others, I did want to tell you: Please do not hesitate to ask if there's something I can help you with."

"Hesitating is the name of my game," Virgil said, misunderstanding.

Logan adjusted his glasses, hiding his confusion behind his hand. "Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. I only meant that--"

It clicked for Virgil. "I get it, Logan. Thank you."

"You are welcome, Anxiety. I believe your presence here will be of benefit to us all." Logan sank out, studiously avoiding eye contact.

Virgil sank out after him, suddenly terrified at the idea of being alone with his thoughts.

Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV.

"Uh, Princey?" Virgil said, tilting his head at them, but Roman wasn't listening.

"Don't tell him," Logan advised, shoving down his own annoyance at the error.

"Just go with it," Virgil repeated, a reminder for the both of them.

"Took you two long enough!" Roman shouted from the kitchen. "Professor Necktie, get in here and help Patton with the measuring cups."

"I got it!" Patton exclaimed. "A third of a cup and a fourth of a cup are pretty much the same thing, right?"

"Oh," said Logan, already in motion. "No."

"What about me?" Virgil asked.

Roman popped his head through the kitchen doorway, nearly knocking into Logan. "I already told you, Sweet Coraline--"

"Da, da, da," Patton chimed in.

"--just sit there and look--"

"Scary."

"Is it Interrupt Roman Day?" Roman threw his head back and rolled his eyes.

"No," said Logan, before realizing the question was rhetorical.

"Wait," said Virgil, "So I'm just supposed to sit by myself in the living room while you guys…" He tried to remember what Roman had said before, but he really hadn't been listening.

"While I bake and Patton tries to drink vanilla extract," Logan said.

There was a sound suspiciously like a small plastic bottle hitting a formica countertop. "Uh, Roman, why don't you keep Virgil company?" Patton suggested. "You know what they say about too many cooks. Or… bakers, I guess."

"What do they say?"

"I don't remember! You'll have to chef back with me later."

Virgil winced. Roman shot him a commiserating look. "Fine, I guess we can both sit and look pretty. Comes naturally to me anyway."

"Great," Virgil said.

"Well, Simple Plan, do you want anything to drink while I'm up?"

"'Simple Plan'?" Virgil repeated, confused. "That one wasn't even a real nickname, you just named an emo band."

"Look, I can't be on all the time." Roman made a face. "Do you want a drink or not?"

"Could I have a coffee?"

"Coffee?" Roman stared at him. "It's 2:00 pm!"

"Oh, so there's a wrong answer?"

"Alright, alright. How do you take it?"

"With milk."

Roman nodded. "How much?"

"What?"

"How much milk?"

"I don't know, I don't measure it out," Virgil tried to keep the incredulous look off his face but couldn't quite manage it. "Just, y'know, with milk."

" How much milk, Virgil?"

"I don't know!" Virgil put up his hands. "Until it's a nice beige color."

"How beige?"

"What do you mean 'how beige'? Beige is beige!"

"Alright, fine," Roman huffed. "But you're not allowed to complain if it's wrong."

"Deal," Virgil said, nodding.

Roman turned to go back in the kitchen and Virgil threw himself down on the couch with a huff. Roman got wound up about the weirdest things.

Unlike Virgil, who only got wound up about normal things, like if the person at the door was really the pizza delivery person, or if they were secretly an assassin sent to kill Thomas.

Reasonable fears.

Virgil ran his hands down his face and sighed. Despite his earlier desire to be alone, and despite the reassuring sounds of controlled chaos from the kitchen, doubt crept into the corners of his mind.

He bounced his leg and tried not to look at the door to the basement. The living room and kitchen were technically common areas, even if the so-called 'Dark' sides usually kept clear of them.

Janus or Remus could burst in at any second and ruin everything. Roman, at least, seemed to be under the impression that Virgil had hated every waking moment as a Dark Side. If he ever found out that they had been friends...

Virgil forced himself to take several deep breaths. Everything would be fine. Roman, Logan, and Patton were his friends , and they wouldn't judge him for how he had acted before.

...Unless they did .

"Coffee!" Roman said, barreling into the living room with far too much confidence for someone holding a full coffee mug.

"Jeeze!" Virgil jumped and clutched at his chest, his pulse hammering against his hands. "Stop doing that!"

"Stop entering rooms?" Roman said sarcastically. He sat down next to Virgil on the couch and set a coffee mug on a mismatched saucer down on the coffee table. "There."

"Thanks," Virgil said. He thought about teasing Roman for having made it the wrong shade of beige, but decided against it. They were still getting used to each other and Virgil didn't know how far he could push without hurting Roman's feelings. "What about you?"

Roman held out his hand and he was suddenly holding a champagne flute full of sparkling water. "Don't you worry about me."

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a blithe "oops!" from Patton and a long sigh from Logan.

"How about them?" Virgil asked. "Can I worry about them ?"

Roman waved a hand and sat back. "I guess worrying is your job."

"Yep," said Virgil, glancing again at the basement door.

They fell silent for a moment, but Roman was never one to leave an awkward silence untouched. "So, what do you usually do for fun? Or was it more of a Cinderella situation?"

"You really think I'd take that kind of treatment lying down?" Virgil asked.

"Okay, so, what? Do you practice your eyeshadow for hours on end? Write angsty poetry?"

Virgil sighed, thinking about all the things he couldn't give away. "I mean, I guess I listen to music?"

"That's a great idea!" Roman said, a little too quickly and loudly. He waved his hand at the TV. "Go… Plug your phone into that, make it do the thing."

Virgil got up and began fumbling with the assorted wires at the back of the TV. "Are you sure? It's not exactly party music."

"Well, it's your party." Roman smiled. "You call the shots. And…" He hesitated, embarrassed. "Well, you know. We appreciate you, scary screamo-emo music and all."

After a fair amount of fiddling with the remote and plugging random cords into random sockets, Virgil finally got his phone hooked up to the TV.

"There!" Roman said happily, flashing his teeth again. " Now it's a party!"

Virgil sat back down on the couch and tried to make a pleasant face back. He had hoped that the music would make him feel more at ease, but all it did was bring back painful memories of bass filtering down into the basement, of complaining with Remus and Janus about their upstairs compatriots' taste in music.

Even now, the bass crawled into him and buzzed painfully against his bones, vibrating in his skull. With his heart already racing from the caffeine, the throb in his chest became almost painful. Virgil stared, wide-eyed, at the floor trying to keep his breathing in check. If he could just focus on what Roman was saying…

What was Roman saying? Virgil watched his lips move, but all he could hear was the thrum of the bass. Was this even real?

It took Roman a long moment to realize that Virgil wasn't listening, his attention turned inwards rather than outwards. Realization came with an unpleasant twist of concern in his stomach. Virgil was staring at the floor, his eyeshadow a sickly gray.

All thoughts of irritation and playful pouting fled Roman's mind in an instant. "Uh, hey. You okay?"

Virgil took too long to respond. "...Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He blinked hard, drummed his fingers against his temple. Awareness came back to him, marginally less unpleasant than it had been before. "Do you… do you mind if I turn the music down?" Surely that was no great transgression.

"Sure, be my guest" Roman said, truly ambivalent. He smiled a little and hummed to himself as Virgil fumbled with the remote.

"Hey, kiddos!" Patton stumbled out of the kitchen, Logan's hand firm between his shoulder blades. "Logan says I'm not allowed in the kitchen anymore." He smiled, unbothered, and sandwiched himself between Virgil and Roman on the couch. "Is this okay?" he asked Virgil.

"Yeah," said Virgil, unsure if he meant it. He leaned a little into Patton's side and decided it was okay. More than okay. Where it had overwhelmed him before, the gentle warmth of Patton's proximity now grounded him and calmed him down.

Like…

Like Remus did.

Roman, oblivious to Virgil's inner crisis, tossed his head. "Did you try to eat the dough again?"

"No," Logan called from the kitchen. "He tried to make glitter slime with the egg whites."

Virgil and Roman made twin faces of disgust; Patton only laughed and said, "I was egg-slime-ted to try something new!"

"Oh, no," Roman murmured, drawing one hand down his face.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and said, "Was it at least food grade glitter?"

"No," Logan answered, still out of sight. "It was craft glitter."

" What were you making?" Virgil asked, then realized his mistake. "Uh, before the egg slime."

"Cupcakes," Patton said.

"I already told you that," Roman said.

"Sorry, man." Virgil gave Roman a fake smile. "Sometimes when you start talking, all I can hear is refrigerator noise."

"Funky beets," Patton said, nodding.

Virgil stared at him. "You keep beets in the refrigerator?"

Patton wasn't listening. "Ooh! Brocc-n-roll!"

The conversation dissolved into increasingly dubious vegetable puns, which Virgil avoided contributing to. He was more than content to sit back and watch Roman's and Patton's energies bounce off each other as the conversation grew increasingly absurd.

It was moments like these that made Virgil think, maybe things would be okay after all. Change was scary but Virgil had his friends.

Logan emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, uncharacteristically ruffled. Flour left chalky marks on his shirt and tie, and glitter clung to his fingers despite all his efforts at the kitchen sink.

"Hi," Virgil said with a lazy wave. "Please stop them."

"What are they doing?" Logan asked. "I stopped listening when they started making puns." He sat down in the chair that sat perpendicular to the couch and looked expectantly at Virgil.

"Still puns," Virgil said. "Endless puns."

"It's fine," Roman said. "We can be done with puns."

"Only if you ask nicely!" Patton said. They all peered at him expectantly. "You said no more puns," he said, confused. "Should I have made one?"

"No need, Patton," Logan said hurriedly.

"Digging the new look, by the way," Virgil said by way of pointing out that Logan was covered in flour.

Logan squinted at him, puzzled, then looked down at himself. "Ah. One of the many hazards of working in a kitchen." He imagined his clothes clean and nodded in satisfaction at the result.

Unable to help himself, Virgil added, "Other hazards include: Setting your stove on fire, setting your self on fire." He paused, thinking. "Ants."

Patton took his cue to counteract Virgil's anxiety. "But if you don't take the risk, then you don't get the reward!"

"Cupcakes!" Roman said with equal enthusiasm.

The oven timer beeped.

Logan frowned. "It hasn't even been two minutes."

"I got impatient," Roman said, and kept going to try to talk his way out of a lecture on hard work. "And besides, don't we all have better things to do than sit around and wait for cupcakes to bake? Such as eating cupcakes?"

"Roman's right," Patton said.

Logan considered this, pushing up his glasses. "I suppose I could use the extra time to get some work done."

"Wow, Teach, you're leaving us just like that?" Virgil said instead of asking Logan to stay.

"Not before cupcakes he's not," Patton said firmly. "Roman?"

"Say no more." Roman made an extravagant hand gesture, and a tray of cooled, perfectly frosted cupcakes appeared on the coffee table.

"I was going to frost them," Logan said. "And I do have to wonder what the point was of having Patton and I bake in the first place."

"Oh, it seemed like a good idea at the time." Roman waved Logan off. "Anyway, Purple Menace, it's your party. You get the first cupcake."

"Thanks." Virgil grabbed one at random before he could start worrying about if there was a right or wrong answer. "So," he said, forcing himself out of his comfort zone, "since it is my party and all… Do you guys think you might want to spend the rest of the day with me? Only if you want to. It's cool if not."

"Of course we will!" Patton said, only just resisting the urge to wrap his arms around Virgil.

"Yeah," Roman said readily, "sure."

They all looked at Logan, who nodded. "If that's what you want."

Virgil looked down to hide his smile.

--

Virgil kept unusual hours at the best of times, plagued by insomnia and racing thoughts.

Tonight was no different. In fact, tonight was worse. After the day ended and the warmth and comfort of his friends faded away, Virgil found himself alone with his thoughts.

Thoughts that kept straying to Remus and Janus. The reality of their anger at him twisted in his stomach and stoked the fires of rage in his own chest until he was burning with it. Some friends th ey were, turning on him the second he tried to improve his own situation. They knew better than anyone just how much he'd disliked tormenting Thomas and antagonizing the others.

Virgil let out an angry huff and punched the volume button on his headphones. He knew better than to try to go to bed when he was this worked up, so he turned to his tried and true method of drowning out his thoughts: turning up his music until he felt it in his jaw.

It didn't work.

Virgil ripped his headphones off and tossed them away from him, careful even in his anger to not do anything that would cause them to break. He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. It was late enough that everyone else was probably asleep. He could go down to the kitchen and eat shredded cheese straight out of the bag without any questioning eyes on him.

He sank out of his room and popped up in the kitchen so focused on his goal that he didn't even notice Patton standing by the sink.

Patton in turn didn't notice Virgil until they both jumped in fright at the sensation of something in their peripherals.

"Oh!" Patton covered his mouth with his hand and took in a deep breath. "You scared me, kiddo!"

Virgil fell against the fridge, taking in a few deep breaths of his own. "Likewise."

Patton looked Virgil over, raising an eyebrow at Virgil's attire. "Late night?"

"Pretty much always. What about you?"

"I couldn't sleep," Patton said, glancing at Virgil to check in with him before continuing, "I was kinda worried about you."

Virgil shuffled over so he could nudge Patton with his hip. "C'mon, worrying is my job."

"I know," Patton said fondly. "I just… I want you to know that we care about you, and… Well, I just keep thinking about what you probably had to put up with living with Deceit and the Duke, and I'm a little concerned they might, y'know, try something."

"Oh," said Virgil, as a shot of panic rang his body like a bell.

"But don't worry!" Patton said. "We'll keep you safe!"

"Oh, dear." Janus flashed into view between them and looked at them both in turn. "Safe from what? "

"Um," said Patton, blushing up to his ears. "Heya, Deceit."

Janus dipped his chin and fixed Patton with an amused smirk that he had never practiced in his bathroom mirror. "Morality." He leaned back against the counter and waved a hand. "Oh, don't let me interrupt you. Please do tell Anxiety what it is you're going to keep him safe from."

"Ah," said Patton, fidgeting. "Um. It was sort of a private conversation."

"You can trust me." Janus touched his fingertips to his chest, expression open. "Have I ever given you a reason not to?"

"I guess not, no."

"So go ahead." Janus stared Patton down, delighting in his discomfort.

Virgil recovered his wits and only just managed to keep himself from snarling like a dog. "Leave him alone."

"Me?" Janus grinned at Virgil, revealing mismatched canines. "I'm harmless."

A sudden memory flashed through Virgil's mind: He and Janus eavesdropping on their upstairs neighbors. "Wait, were you just waiting by the door for me to show up?"

"No," Janus lied, spitting out the word too quickly. He saw no need whatsoever to let Virgil know that Janus had wanted to check on him and make sure the Lights weren't unduly punishing him for the perceived transgression of having once been 'Dark'. In fact, he'd gone into this with no intention of interacting with Patton at all, but he never could resist the opportunity to make a dramatic entrance.

"Dude." Virgil scoffed, smiling incredulously. "That's so lame."

Janus examined the back of one hand, propping up a facade of cool indifference. "More or less lame than listening to the same My Chemical Romance song 58 times in a row?" Janus teased, sweeping his gaze down Virgil's face. "By your estimate?"

Virgil was about to answer when he noticed Patton staring at him in confusion. He caught hold of his anger again and injected it into his words. "Did you actually want something or did you just come around to try to scare me?"

"This was a common area last time I checked," Janus said, pretending to look around.

Virgil would have liked to have pressed him. For all his scheming and planning, Janus had never mastered the art of the contingency plan. If Virgil taunted him, told him to carry on with his business in the kitchen, Janus would stutter out an excuse, turn tail, and flee.

But there was Patton, watching their rapport with interest and concern, and Virgil couldn't risk handing him any more pieces of the puzzle. Even Patton, who saw the best in everyone, seemed to believe that Janus and Remus had held Virgil hostage all those years. What would he say if he knew the truth?

Virgil took Patton by the hand. "Don't let us stop you, then. Come on, Pat." He sank out, hoping Patton would follow him to his room.

Patton took the hint and rose up by Virgil's door. He looked around uneasily at the spider curtains and the white webbing strung across the walls, but no wave of wild-eyed panic struck his mind. "That's funny."

"Haha," Virgil said, instantly regretting his weak attempt at humor. "Sorry. What's funny?"

"I'm not quite as scared as I was last time," Patton said.

Virgil stared at the purple-plated switch Roman had made earlier. "No way. No way that worked. Ugh, he's going to be insufferable if he finds out." Patton smiled vacantly and nodded. Virgil said , "Don't say anything to Roman, but you should be good to spend time in here with me. I-if you want to."

"Do you want to talk about what just happened?" Patton asked, not moving from the doorway. Even in the absence of blind panic, he could still feel phantom legs crawling across his bare skin if he stared at any one piece of spider decor for too long.

"I don't know," Virgil said, sighing heavily. "Are you okay?"

Patton couldn't help but shudder as he tried to tear his eyes away from Virgil's spider tank. He swallowed down his fear. Virgil needed him. He could be brave if it meant helping Virgil feel better. "Oh, don't worry about me." He forced himself not to think and crossed the room so he could sit next to Virgil on the bed. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know," Virgil said, unable to look Patton in the eye. This was his drama to worry about, not anyone else's. He shouldn't-- couldn't burden Patton with this. Lies danced on the tip of his tongue, so bitter he could almost taste them. He wondered if Janus could sense it, if Janus was laughing at him on the basement stairs. "It's over between us," Virgil said.

"Was it…" Patton hesitated. "I mean, were they… It's just that you're so sweet, and Deceit and the Duke are so scary . And… I mean, Deceit never comes into the kitchen. D'you think he was going to--" Patton broke off with a shudder. " Try something?"

Virgil couldn't even bring himself to protest at the idea that Patton didn't find him scary anymore, awash in nostalgia; half-formed memories of coffee on hazy mornings, reluctant cuddle piles on the couch, bickering for the sake of it, all warming and chilling him at the same time. "Maybe," Virgil said. It wasn't technically a lie, he told himself, just a misdirection. And if it kept Patton safe from Janus' mind games then Virgil would tell a thousand lies, never mind what that said about him. "He can be pretty scary when he wants to be.

"And you're okay?" Patton asked, still concerned. "You still seem pretty shaken up." Virgil was pale and his eyeshadow had gone dangerously dark. Patton wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and never let anything bad happen to him again, his chest ached with it.

"I didn't like how Deceit talked to you," Virgil said, and a burst of anger formed out of the fear for one incandescent moment. Janus had been playing a game with Patton, but it wasn't fair when Patton didn't know the rules. Janus would weave threats and insults into his words but never once speak impolitely or out of turn, and push and goad and tease until he found a breaking point. He had pinned Patton's back against the wall in less than a minute and would have kept toying with him just for the game of it had Virgil not stepped in. Virgil had been the victim of this trick before, in much more lighthearted circumstances. Janus would put words in your mouth and then condemn you for them with the holier-than-thou countenance of a tithe-stealing priest. "He's dangerous to talk to. Promise me you'll come get me if he ever catches you alone, okay?"

"Sure, kiddo." Patton didn't fully understand, but if it was important to Virgil, then it was important to him, too. He held up his pinkie. "Pinkie swear."

"Oh," said Virgil, softening. "We don't have to--"

"It's legally binding," Patton said seriously.

Virgil smiled despite himself and hooked pinkies with Patton. "Okay. Pinkie swear."

Patton drew his hand back and smothered a yawn behind it. "Sorry, kiddo, it's just a little be-yawn-d my bedtime. But I'm happy to stay up with you as long as you need!"

Guilt flooded Virgil's mind, choking out rationality and guiding him toward panic. "Oh, jeeze, I'm sorry. I won't keep you up."

“Aw, it’s okay,” Patton said, not missing the way Virgil’s body tensed up and his breathing quickened. “I’ll stay up with you all night if you want me to. We could even make a blanket fort. Just maybe…” He wiggled in place, thinking of spiders again. “Maybe in the living room or the hall.”

"It's okay, Pat." Virgil stifled a yawn of his own, burying his face in the collar of his hoodie. "Think I'm gonna crash soon, anyway." A small, cruel part of him protested at the idea that he would need special treatment and desperately wanted to throw it back in Patton's face. He wasn't a sweetheart, he wasn't a baby. He didn't need to crawl into a blanket fort with Dad just because he was a little stressed.

Okay, so he was a lot stressed, but he still didn't need coddling. He wasn't Roman .

"Should I go, then?" Patton asked, glancing at the door. He had seen Virgil's face go sour and adjusted his approach accordingly. It went against his nature, against his function, to leave someone upset without doing everything he could to fix it, but he was perceptive enough to grasp that Virgil wanted space.

Virgil nodded and yawned again, the ugliness draining from his face as though it had never been there at all. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Virgil." Patton stood, but hovered in the doorway. "Want me to get your light?"

Virgil kicked off his shoes and nodded. "Sure." Virgil hoped that Roman hadn't shuffled his clothing around too much. He wasn't in the mood to hunt for his pajamas in the dark. "See you in the morning?"

Patton nodded, turned off the light, and left.

#virgil sanders #spicywrites #spicywrites a place where i can breathe